#she contains multitudes and i know every part of her

[awareinthevoid]

13th doctor get behind me!!

[voleuxe]

also Lu birthday. she accepts shiny things, kisses, and proclamations of enduring devotion.

[jzprncess]

love language by sza

"talk to me in your love language"

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 2/2 previous part

word count : 4,065

summary : After being apart for what felt like an eternity and discovering his girlfriend's newfound knowledge of Dutch, he couldn't contain his excitement. He expressed his appreciation in a multitude of heartfelt but also sensual ways.

warnings : just basic love making

note : not gonna lie, i had trouble writing this one but thank the world i finish this!! thanks for everyone for tuning in on my first completed series? idk what this is.

❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

 As they lingered in the warmth of each other's gaze, the world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this moment. The soft glow of the kitchen light illuminated their faces, casting gentle shadows that danced around them.

The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked apple pie hung in the air like a sweet promise of what was to come, its spicy notes weaving through the atmosphere and stirring their senses. Y/N felt her heart race as she watched the flicker of something deep and genuine in Max's eyes—something that ignited a spark within her, a yearning that had been building during their time apart.

Max took a step closer, brushing his fingers along her arms, trailing them down to her waist, where they rested possessively. The warmth of his touch sent shivers racing across her skin, igniting a warmth that spread from her core outward. He leaned in again, his breath a whisper against her lips as he murmured, "Say that again."

"Ik hou van jou," she repeated softly, her voice low and sultry, filled with the weight of her feelings. The way his eyes sparkled with delight made her pulse quicken, each heartbeat echoing the intensity of the moment. He chuckled, his lips curving into a grin that made her heart swell, an infectious joy radiating from him.

"Your Dutch is getting better, but your kisses are still the best," he teased, leaning in closer again, their lips almost touching, the anticipation palpable between them.

"Maybe I should keep practicing," she replied, her voice playful as she leaned into him, their bodies swaying slightly together like leaves in a gentle breeze, the world around them dimming in significance.

With a knowing smile, he closed the gap, capturing her lips with his once more, this time with more urgency. The kiss was a sweet melding of warmth and longing, a dance that spoke of the days apart and the hunger for connection. He pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss, his hands exploring the curve of her back, drawing her against him as if they were two pieces that fit perfectly together, a puzzle complete only in each other's presence.

The kitchen faded away, and all that mattered was the heat between them. She lost herself in the moment, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer still, as their kisses grew more fervent, more desperate, each touch a whisper of unspoken words filled with longing and desire.

"Y/N," he breathed against her lips, his voice thick with emotion, "I've missed you so much." His forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between, creating a shared warmth that enveloped them. “It’s agonizing to be apart from you,” he groaned, his voice laced with genuine pain. “The races are unbearable without you by my side.” Each word was laced with sincerity, the vulnerability in his tone making her heart ache with affection.

"I'm here now," she whispered, a soft smile breaking through her breathlessness. "And I'm not going anywhere." With a sudden burst of courage, she brushed her lips against his again, this time more insistently, pouring every ounce of emotion she felt into the kiss. He responded with an intensity that sent her heart racing, their bodies pressing together until there was no space left between them, every inch of their skin igniting with a shared fire.

In that moment, the world outside faded completely—no racing, no pressures, just them. Max's hands slid down to her hips, urging her closer still as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his pent-up affection into every lingering touch, their hearts beating in rhythm with one another.

As they pulled apart, the air crackled with an electric charge, and Y/N gazed up at him, her heart still pounding wildly. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the way he looked at her—so intensely, so completely—made her heart flutter.

"I wanted to surprise you with the pie," she said breathlessly, trying to regain her composure, her cheeks flushed with warmth, but the playful sparkle in his eyes told her he was not so easily distracted.

"Why not surprise me with something even sweeter?" he replied, his tone a low, teasing growl that sent delicious shivers down her spine as he lowered his lips to her ear, kissing the sensitive spot just below it, making her gasp. "Something like this," he continued, his voice thick with desire, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Max's presence enveloped Y/N like a warm embrace, his intentions clear as he led her into the living room. The soft, ambient light filled the space with a cozy glow, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and charged with unspoken possibilities. Every step felt like a promise, and as they crossed the threshold into the intimate space, the anticipation hung thick in the air, a sweet tension vibrating between them, as if the very walls were witnesses to their longing.

As they stepped into the living room, the warm light enveloped them like a soft embrace. Max's hand found Y/N's, fingers intertwining effortlessly as they walked deeper into the space. The couch beckoned, plush and inviting, but Max had other intentions. His eyes, dark with longing, flickered toward the hallway that led to their bedroom, a slow smile creeping across his lips.

“Let’s take our time,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine. He pulled her closer, his hands resting gently on her hips. Instead of guiding her to sit down, he leaned into her ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "Come with me."

With her heart racing, Y/N followed his lead as Max’s fingers gently tugged at her hand, steering her down the dimly lit corridor. The familiar path to their bedroom felt different tonight, every step echoing with the promise of the intimacy they craved.

The tender glow from the living room dissipated as they ventured into the sanctuary of their bedroom, the atmosphere heavy with longing and expectation. Max's eyes smoldered with a yearning that mirrored her own as he delicately closed the door, encapsulating them in a world meant only for two. "I've missed this," he murmured, his voice rough with sentiment, each syllable dripping with unspoken promises.

Y/N could feel the cool edge of the bed grazing the back of her knees, causing a shiver to run up her spine. A gentle exhale escaped her lips as Max's hands, warm and inviting, traced the contours of her body. His touch was like a match, igniting a flame within her that had been dormant for far too long. The world outside their intimate haven faded away. 

"Let’s make it count," Max purred, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down her spine. He pulled her into him with a tender strength, their bodies melding together as if two pieces of a puzzle finally reunited. Their lips met in a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of longing. The kiss spoke volumes, erasing the last vestiges of space between them, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

As they pulled away for breath, Max rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice raw with honesty. "Every day, every night... I missed the way you feel, the way you taste."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "I missed you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible but loaded with meaning. "I thought about this moment… about us, together, more than you know."

Max’s eyes darkened with desire as he brought his lips to hers again, this time with even more intensity. His hands roamed, exploring the familiar terrain of her body as if it were the first time, each touch a reverent caress. She could feel the heat radiating from him, engulfing her in a warmth that was both comforting and exciting. Her own hands began their own journey, reacquainting themselves with the lines and planes of his body.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned softly as she ran her fingers over his chest, “you drive me insane. I can’t get enough of you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied breathlessly, her lips grazing his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes met hers, filled with an emotion that made her heart stutter. "Good," he whispered. "Because I don’t ever want to be without you again."

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a sensual tango that left them both breathless. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air charged with an electricity that was palpable. Slowly, ever so slowly, they sank onto the bed, their bodies intertwined in a lovers' embrace. The soft, downy comforter embraced them like a cloud, a fitting backdrop for their reunion.

As they shed their clothes, each piece of fabric slipping away like petals of a flower, Max paused, his gaze lingering on her. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered reverently, his fingers brushing over her bare skin. "I don’t tell you that enough."

Y/N blushed under his intense gaze, her heart swelling at his words. "You do," she murmured, "but I never get tired of hearing it."

Max smiled, a tender expression that contrasted with the raw desire in his eyes. "I love you," he said softly, the sincerity in his voice making her chest tighten. "I love everything about you."

Her breathe caught in her throat, as he brought his lips back to hers in a kiss filled with tenderness. "I love you too, Max," she whispered against his mouth. "So much."

His smile widened against her lips as he kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the moment. As their bodies entwined, Max's lips began a leisurely journey down Y/N’s body, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made her skin rise with goosebumps. His hands followed, caressing her with a gentle reverence that made her feel cherished, adored.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with passion. “I don’t know how I survived these weeks without you.”

Y/N gasped softly, her heart pounding in her chest as his mouth worked its magic. “You’re here now,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. “And that’s all that matters.”

Max chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. "You're right. Let's make up for lost time."

As he continued his intimate exploration of her body, his hands gentle but firm, Y/N’s breath quickened. She bit her lip, trying to suppress a moan as his lips lingered at her hips before moving lower. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath warm against her most sensitive spot.

“Max…” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, filled with need.

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Her heart raced at the raw intensity in his voice. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I want to feel all of you…please.”

Max’s gaze softened for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against her inner thigh. "Then I’ll give you everything," he replied, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me, every part that’s been missing you."

He kissed her there, slow and deliberate, savoring the way her body reacted to his touch. Y/N’s back arched, her hands gripping the sheets as she gasped at the sensation. "Max…" she whimpered, her voice a mix of plea and pleasure.

“I love how you say my name,” he murmured between kisses, his lips tracing delicate patterns across her skin. “Say it again.”

“Max,” she breathed, her body trembling under the weight of his affection, her desire coiling tighter with every passing second. “Please…”

“Please what?” he teased, his tone playful but his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked down at him, her eyes locked on his. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw desire. “I need you inside me, Max… right now.”

Her words ignited something primal in him, and Max’s playful expression shifted to one of fierce intensity. "You don’t have to wait any longer," he murmured, his voice rough with longing. He moved up her body, their skin brushing together as he positioned himself above her.

Their eyes met once again, and in that quiet moment, the air between them seemed to hum with electricity. Max gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “I need you just as much.”

Slowly, with a deliberate tenderness, he pushed into her, filling her completely. Y/N gasped, her body arching as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. The feeling of him inside her, of their bodies joined, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

“Oh, Max…” she breathed, her voice filled with emotion and desire. The connection between them went beyond the physical—this was the culmination of all the love, the longing, the need they had for each other.

They began to move together, their bodies finding a rhythm that was slow, deliberate, and filled with passion.

Every thrust was a declaration, a promise of the love they shared and the desire that had built up over the time they’d been apart. Max moved with a controlled intensity, each motion deliberate and deep, sending waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

“God, you feel incredible,” Max groaned, his voice husky as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "I’ve missed this... I’ve missed you."

Y/N could barely speak, her mind clouded with pleasure, but she managed to whisper, “I’ve missed you too… more than you know.”

The world around them seemed to melt away as they lost themselves in each other. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated their entwined bodies, casting shadows across the room as they moved together. The tension between them began to build, the pleasure intensifying with every movement, every touch.

Max’s lips found hers again, and they kissed with a renewed passion, their breaths mingling as their pace quickened. “Max... I’m so close," Y/N whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling as the tension in her body coiled tighter with each thrust.

Max groaned softly, his grip on her hips tightening as he quickened his pace just slightly, pushing deeper, matching the rhythm of her breath. "I’ve got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you."

Her body responded instantly to his words, the intensity building to a crescendo. Y/N’s fingers gripped the sheets, her back arching as she lost herself in the overwhelming sensations. With one final thrust, the tension snapped, sending her spiraling into a powerful climax. A soft cry escaped her lips as her body trembled beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Max watched her in awe, his breath ragged as he felt her body tighten around him, her release pushing him closer to his own edge. He held on, guiding her through her orgasm, his touch tender but filled with a hunger that was only growing.

As Y/N’s breathing began to slow, her heart still racing, she looked up at him, her eyes heavy with satisfaction but still filled with desire.

"Max," she whispered, her voice still soft but laced with renewed desire. She gazed up at him, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her release, but a fresh wave of need stirred within her. "I need more of you."

Max’s eyes darkened with passion at her words. "You’ll have all of me," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, pouring all of his love and need into it. His hands roamed over her body, feeling the warmth of her skin, savoring every inch.

Without breaking the kiss, he began to move again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second. Y/N moaned softly into his mouth, her body still sensitive but craving more of the intense connection between them. Their bodies moved in perfect unison, the rhythm building again but with an aching slowness that heightened every touch, every sensation.

“You feel so good,” Max groaned, his forehead resting against hers as they moved together. "I never want to stop."

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, her fingers tracing the lines of his back as she whispered, "Don’t. Stay with me... like this."

Max’s eyes softened, his expression one of pure adoration. "Always," he breathed. "I’m not going anywhere."

They continued to move together, their bodies entwined as they rode the waves of pleasure. Y/N could feel another release building within her, slower this time, but just as intense. Each thrust from Max brought her closer, their movements perfectly in sync, the connection between them deepening with every second. She clung to him, her breath coming in short gasps as the pleasure mounted, her body trembling beneath him.

"Max…" she whispered, her voice a soft plea as her fingers tangled in his hair. "I’m so close again."

Max’s breathing was ragged, his muscles tense as he held back, wanting to savor every moment. "Me too," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you cum with me."

The intensity between them built to a fever pitch, the air charged with electricity. Y/N’s body responded to his every touch, her pulse quickening as her climax approached. Max’s hands gripped her hips tighter, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more deliberate as they both teetered on the edge.

And then, with a shared gasp, the tension broke. Y/N’s release crashed over her, her body arching into his as she moaned his name. The sensation of her tightening around him was enough to send Max over the edge, his own climax hitting him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in her neck, his body trembling as he rode out the waves of pleasure, their bodies locked together in the abyss.

For a moment, they stayed suspended in that blissful connection, hearts racing and bodies intertwined. As the final tremors of their shared climax faded, they both breathed heavily, wrapped in a warm cocoon of contentment.

Y/N gazed up at Max, her eyes shining with a mix of awe and affection. "That was… incredible," she whispered, still catching her breath.

Max smiled down at her, his fingers gently tracing her cheek. “You’re incredible,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with warmth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that before.”

She smiled back, a sense of happiness flooding her chest. “Neither have I. I’ve missed this—us—so much.”

Max leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his touch feather-light yet filled with longing. “We’ll make up for lost time,” he murmured against her lips. “I promise to always be here, to always come back to you.”

“I hope so,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I just want to share moments like this with you, always.”

Max brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, his expression serious yet tender. “You have my heart, Y/N. No matter where life takes me, I’ll always come back to you.”

They lay in silence for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside fading away. Max’s thumb brushed against her skin in soothing circles as they enjoyed the tranquility that followed their passionate encounter.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he shifted slightly, his body still intimately close to hers.

Y/N chuckled softly, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Well, I wouldn’t mind a little more kissing,” she teased, biting her lip.

Max raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Just kissing, huh? I think I can handle that.”

“Okay, maybe a little cuddling too,” she admitted, snuggling closer to him, resting her head against his chest.

“Cuddling is definitely in order,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close as they sank into the comfort of each other’s presence.

They lay together in peaceful silence, the quiet of the room punctuated only by their steady breathing. Y/N felt a sense of bliss wash over her, the warmth of Max’s body anchoring her in the moment. She felt safe, cherished, and utterly content.

“Promise me something,” she said after a while, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anything,” Max replied, his tone serious.

“Promise me we’ll always find our way back to each other, no matter what,” she urged, looking up at him with earnest eyes.

Max smiled softly, his gaze unwavering. “I promise. No matter where we are, or how long we’re apart, my heart will always come home to you.”

Y/N sighed with relief, but then a playful smile crossed her face. “You know, I’m suddenly craving some appeltaart,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Max chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Apple pie? Didn’t we just take a couple of bites? You’re a hopeless romantic and a dessert lover!”

“I am! But I can’t help it if my mind goes straight to pie after a moment like this,” she teased, her heart lightening at the thought of enjoying their shared creation together.

He laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Alright, let’s make a deal. I’ll grab us some more pie, but you have to promise me you won’t eat it all.”

Y/N grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Only if you promise to let me have the first spoonful! I did all the work, after all.”

“Fine! But only if you feed some to me, like earlier,” he shot back playfully, nudging her.

As they exchanged banter, Y/N felt warmth bloom in her chest, knowing they would create countless more memories to cherish in the days to come. Each playful tease and shared laugh deepened the connection between them, solidifying their bond in ways words couldn’t express. She imagined all the moments they would share before Max had to leave again for racing—a whirlwind of late-night baking sessions filled with flour fights, spontaneous drives along the coast, and lazy afternoons spent exploring the city together.

The thought of their future together was a beautiful tapestry waiting to be woven, each thread representing a cherished memory. She could picture them at the kitchen counter, Max attempting to teach her the perfect way to cut an apple while she playfully distracted him. They’d create inside jokes about his “expert” baking skills and her inability to follow a recipe, laughing until their sides hurt.

With a soft sigh, she turned her head to gaze up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “We’re going to have an incredible journey, aren’t we?” she mused, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with hope.

Max met her gaze, his eyes shining with warmth and promise. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see where life takes us, even if that means I’ll be racing again soon.” He paused, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to come back for my favorite chef’s apple pie.”

Y/N laughed, feeling the joy bubble up inside her. “Just remember to bring me back some trophies, too!”

His laughter echoed through the room, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “Only if you promise to be waiting for me when I get back,” he said, his tone turning serious but still filled with affection.

“Always,” she replied, her heart pounding with certainty. Whatever challenges they faced—him being around the world, random phone calls, and the anticipation of his next departure—they would face them together. The future stretched out before them like a racetrack, filled with twists and turns but ultimately leading them back to one another, fueled by love, laughter, and an unwavering commitment to their shared journey.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

[tommycorriander]

Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, And Disability

I am disabled. This is something I've talked about a handful of times on this blog and on my Twitter, and anyone who knows me knows I am a disabled man. As a result, while I do enjoy dissecting media and politics, the need to be an advocate for disability issues would have fallen on me to some extent regardless. Disabled folks are often left out of conversations regarding diversity in media, in a continued oversight from able bodied peers.

What does this have to do with the Hellaverse?

Both shows contain at least some small amount of disability representation; specifically, they both have characters that are physically disabled. In Hazbin Hotel this is Vaggie, as she is missing an eye and prior to the finale had lost her wings. In Helluva Boss, the characters would be Fizzarolli, a quad amputee, and the unnamed deaf child in the special. The only character I ever see talked about in regards to their disability by the wider fanbase is the unnamed child, and on a smaller scale in critical spaces I occasionally see remarks on Fizzarolli's disability.

This is a problem.

For as much as fans of one or both shows would love to claim diversity in their shows, the lack of disability representation and the lackluster portrayal of the minimal representation is poor. And I haven't seen any of my fellow critics discuss this, which I feel is an oversight, though I don't fault them for this as there are many problems with both shows and they tend to have their hands full. However, this angle of viewing the shows has been overlooked, which is why I wish to discuss it today.

Firstly, I'd like to specify what I mean when I discuss disability. While the conversation regarding the Hellaverse is primarily centered around physical disability as this is the only form of disability portrayed in the shows, coded or otherwise, disability comes in many different forms. Intellectual disabilities and mental disabilities are just as important for representation in the media as physical disabilities. Among physical disabilities, there's also a difference in visible and invisible disabilities, the latter of which is hardly ever shown in media compared to the former. Ideally all forms of disability would be portrayed equally and with respect, but unfortunately this isn't the case. I also don't expect every show to tackle every demographic at once; this isn't a reasonable request, and to be very clear, my issue with the representation in HH/HB does not come from every single unique experience with disability not being covered, but rather with the narrative the creatives behind the show and the show's fans continue to push: that both shows are diverse and are, in some way, more progressive than other shows.

This isn't the case for many reasons. Fellow critics have gone into depth about the show's lack of representation of women in nuanced roles, the lack of queer women, the racist ways in which the very few characters of colour are presented, the lack of trans representation, and even the way sex and sexuality is presented being rather conservative at times. That isn't the focus of this essay, but I would implore anyone who is reading this who is somehow unaware of the previous issues to seek out essays that talk about those points; Cassidy Whiskey on YouTube has a three-part series that covers a multitude of topics, not just issues of representation, and I would have recommended helluvareceipts on Twitter, but her account has sadly been deactivated. I'm sure there are others, but I'll lose focus if I try to name every single person to go to. If you're willing to trawl through general pettiness in the critical tag (which, let's be real, that is probably how you found this post) you'll find well-worded critiques as well.

Back to the topic at hand. The lack of representation of people with disabilities is already frustrating, but there isn't a complete drought: Vaggie, Fizzarolli, and the unnamed imp child do exist, after all. However, their representation is not just flawed, but even exploitative in some ways.

First we have Vaggie. Aside from the visual of her missing eye and seeing the incident in which she lost that eye, nothing comes of it. She never has to contend with the difficulties that come with impaired sight, and it's never brought up by other characters. In the training scene between her and Carmilla, it's not a factor: instead, her greater flaw in the physical realm when it comes to combat is having longer hair. This is an extreme oversight, which I believe shows that Vivienne and the various writers for the show never actually take into consideration what should be a major element of a character, that being her impaired vision. Furthermore, the loss of her wings isn't even considered at all, with her somehow gaining them back at the end of her training montage with Carmilla. This could have been an excellent vector to discuss physical disability in a coded form, with her wings being a stand in for more traditional forms of limb loss. Still not ideal, as I believe it's better to have forthright depictions of disability over metaphors, but it would have been something. Instead, it's never a factor, and worse, it's effectively cured. As far as representation goes, Vaggie might as well not even count.

That's all that exists for Hazbin Hotel. In Helluva Boss, we have two characters, and I will save the unnamed child for last, because that is where the real issue with the representation is on full display.

So, Fizzarolli. He is a quad amputee and potentially hearing impaired, though the latter is speculated on due to a single scene which I discuss later. Since that scene is the only time it ever comes up, I will focus on his amputee status. He lost his limbs in a fire, something we see on screen. I will disagree with some of my fellow critics in that this scene should have been more detailed; I feel that had the scene shown more of the damage dealt to Fizz's body it would have come across in poor taste, and focusing on the tragic aspect of disability usually ends up feeling like trauma porn in the hands of poor writers, which Vivienne most certainly is. I do not trust her to handle a more detailed scene with grace, especially given her track record (more on that later). It is ultimately for the best that the scene is mostly brushed over, even if it would have been better in the hands of someone with the maturity and sensitivity to cover such a topic for more to be shown in regards to his injuries.

Otherwise, Fizzarolli is mostly fine. He's shown not just surviving but thriving, he has a loving partner (criticisms of the portrayal of said relationship not withstanding) and generally sees success in his life while still having to grapple with the realities of his disability when it comes to his prosthetics being prone to damage and potentially shutting down. I would, in the hands of anyone else, like to see more of this character and what his daily routine looks like as a disabled man.

Unfortunately all the good will built with Fizz comes crashing down when we get to the unnamed imp child in the Fizzarolli special episode. This child is the poster child for virtue signalling. Frankly, it's disgusting how a majority of the fandom seemed to ignore how fetishistic this portrayal was. This is where the real meat of the essay comes in to play.

This unnamed child is given a single scene, and is then promptly forgotten about and never mentioned again. They are introduced as being a fan of Fizz here to view the competition, there is a brief exchange between the two, and then we all move on. And yet this scene was championed as somehow revolutionary or a sign of the top-tier diversity and progressiveness in Helluva, when in reality this type of scene has been done to death. This is tokenism.

One major stumbling block many of the people championing this scene seem to get tripped up on is a very simple question: why was this child a child to begin with? Really, this seems like a simple question, it shouldn't have much thought. Sometimes characters are kids. But within the episode it's clearly shown through multiple different avenues that this is an adult show. The performances are dripping with sexuality, several of the fans of Fizzarolli are there because Mammon sells sex robots of the guy, there is no mistaking that this is something no child should be at, let alone by themselves.

So why was this child a child? Simple: brownie points.

It's a lot more difficult for people to share clips of a wholesome moment from your show if the person Fizz was interacting with was an adult. People are ableist, this is pretty par for the course; as a disabled person I find it generally safer to assume people are ableist before proven otherwise. I can guarantee if this scene were to be between Fizzarolli and a deaf adult fan as opposed to a young child, it would not have been championed as this amazing representation by mostly able bodied fans. And that is by design: if Vivienne genuinely cared about representation, if she truly wanted to show something meaningful to her adult fans in her adult show, she would have had the interaction be with an adult. But that doesn't get her clip shared around on social media. That doesn't get her brownie points for inclusion. It's safe, it's palatable, it's sickeningly wholesome, and it's insulting for that. This is a show for adults, something Vivienne and company is adamant on, and yet they treat their audience like children. As a fan, you should be insulted to have this key-jingling one minute clip presented to you. You should demand more, demand better.

Unfortunately I do not see ever getting better from Vivienne. She has made it very clear she truly does not care about creating art, she really only stumbled into being championed as a paragon for animation because her majority white and able bodied fans saw the inclusion of primarily gay men and thought that was good enough. She does not give a damn about disabled people, and she never will. To expect good disabled representation from her is like expecting good queer representation from a Marvel movie; she is in it for the money, and it just so happens that the inclusion of that scene makes money.

Addendum thoughts that were too long to put into the tags: I would like to make it clear that disability, because it presents very differently, is experienced very differently by many different people. If you felt seen or represented by the disability representation in either show, that's fine, and I don't want you to feel bad for feeling seen. Ultimately disabled people are largely given scraps; I have not once seen someone with my particular physical disability portrayed in media. Sometimes we latch onto things that are subpar or lacking; my criticism of reception to this scene is targeted primarily at able bodied audience members who may be lacking in this perspective and to also champion fellow disabled people to rightfully demand and expect better. Thank you for your time.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Unraveled: B&N Virtual Event Summary

There are no unraveled spoilers; since we're re-covering a period of time we've already seen, there are references to specific events in Stellarlune

Shannon Messenger was accompanied by B.B. Alston, author of Amari and the Night Brothers, who asked the questions

Enjoy! (Quil note: this might be one of the best ones, lads 👀)

Shannon has pre-release jitters. Even though she's done this so many times, she'll never not be nervous

It's a different book with a different POV. She's just as excited as she is panicked. "I contain multitudes!"

Why is this 9.5 instead of 10? Why a Keefe book? Is this part of a bigger story or just a fun bonus? It's a little of both. Keefe fans are gonna love a whole book about him, but Shannon never would have taken attention away from the main story if it wasn't essential for the series, since everyone's anxious for book 10.

Be patient! She's never written a 10 book series before. She's "trying to build a bridge while crossing it."

Keefe wasn't just eating human food having fun, though Shannon would've written 800 pages of snacking if she could.

What he got up to Shannon planned/outlined that it would all come out in book 9 when he was back, but, "No, Keefe is not ready to share these secrets. There's reasons why he's gonna keep this hidden."

"That's a problem for future Shannon!"

But then everything future Shannon tried with book 10 didn't quite work. This is Keefe's story, and KOTLC is limited to Sophie.

In order for Sophie to know, Keefe would have to sit down and talk it out with everyone, and he wasn't quite ready to do that when Shannon needed him to.

So, special 9.5! So we can live that time with Keefe, see what he does, where he goes, who he meets, what he uncovers.

This way readers will be much more familiar with it when we get to all that in book 10--for the first time ever, readers will actually know more than Sophie!

Shannon confirms we're getting Keefe's middle name--she debated with herself, thought about keeping that secret forever, but she wants there to be big pay-offs in Unraveled. And what book could be more perfect for this?

Was it hard to write from Keefe's POV? Usually his voice comes super easily, so Shannon was expecting it to be word-vomit. But throughout the book and especially at the beginning, he's not himself. Everything he's been through has changed him, made him afraid of himself, more quiet and reserved. How does she balance making this interesting when her jokester character won't talk!

It was interesting diving into his head to see where he's at and why he's acting different. And it was interesting flipping it--Sophie's a fish out of water in the Lost Cities, but this time Keefe's the fish!

She had to keep reminding herself all this stuff familiar to her is new to him. "Flaming Hot Cheetos??? Is that food...????"

How has Keefe changed the most since book 1? In some ways he's lost his confidence. He's discovered a lot that's made him question if he's good, if he's causing problems, if he's putting people at risk. In his head he's not nearly as much the casual, lighthearted guy he seems.

He's also matured. He really had to step up and say, "Okay, it's time to take action. I can't just goof around. I've got the fate of the world on my shoulders in some way too." He's also trying to protect his friends and feels very personally responsible. His burden is a lot heavier than it used to be.

What's his favorite part of the human world? He definitely enjoys the human pop culture. Seeing how humans depict elves, certain (not all) human foods.

Lot of fun for Shannon as a snacker, but he's vegetarian, which makes it harder. He can't have fried chicken--but not every scene is about food.

Any places Shannon knew she had to send Keefe? She prefers to write places she's been if possible; in fantasy, if you can get the real accurate, it makes the fantastical that much more believable. So she started with places she's been, but she hasn't been nearly enough to cover all this. So she included places she'd like to, places she knows other people have been so she can get details from them.

(itty bitty seriously small spoiler from Shannon) Keefe starts looking for libraries, so Shannon googled cool libraries and went down that rabbit hole.

Keefe's been crushing on Sophie since the moment they met. What's does he like the most about her? (Lot of hearts in chat). "Keefe appreciates that Sophie is such a different perspective. He really sees that she doesn’t necessarily see herself accurately, but he understands her. He can see why she’s harder on herself with her upbringing, the bad thoughts she heard. He realized she doesn’t always understand herself."

He’s also really impressed by how brave and strong she is, and how she’s willing to risk her life and do the thing when everyone's like Sophie don't do the thing! And she’s like I must do the thing! Keefe thinks, “Wow can’t stop her from doing the thing!" It'd be great if she stopped ending up in the healing center, but he appreciates her for doing it despite the consequences. Admires her for it. He really wants to be worthy of how amazing he thinks she is. (More hearts in chat)

Can we confirm Keefe's POV of the kiss? Yes! Shannon almost wasn't able to do it. Unraveled was supposed to release November 12, but then her kids, "caught every possible virus they could possibly catch." Plus, publishing takes time, so they had to move it back. Those extra days allowed her to squeeze in the bonus story and she had a lot of fun writing it.

She knew she couldn't continue the book past when he leaves the human world, but she knew readers would really want it. She understands if you skip to the end to read it first--and there shouldn't be too many spoilers if you do, but she still recommends going from the beginning.

Why did it take Sophie and Keefe so long to get to the kiss? Did you know it would be in Stellarlune or did it happen naturally? Shannon tries not to pre-plan emotional things because it makes it feel forces. As the author she's in charge of the plot, not the emotions. Every time Sophie almost dies, that's her, but how Sophie feels about almost dying is all Sophie.

So anything emotional like this, Shannon's checking in with Sophie, and, "She really wasn't ready to see this was an option for her--she really was in the Great Foster Oblivion. She had no idea that Keefe liked her, and she wasn't the type to start developing feelings without having that piece of the puzzle. She genuinely thought Keefe was just teasing and was a flirt with everything. She didn't think it was something to take seriously."

She also had her eye on someone else for quite some time, so the story had to wait until Sophie was ready to take that step. Shannon discussed it with her editor a lot

Every week they have a zoom meeting to talk through the plot. They thought Stellarlune was probably the book for the kiss, but Shannon didn't know for sure until she got to that chapter. She's very proud of Sophie for being brave enough to take that step and bring the walls down.

The fact it took so long and tortured readers wasn't on purpose--"Torturing my readers is fun, but I wouldn't do it unnecessarily!"

It was interesting going back to write the kiss from Keefe's POV. She was worried as she did that though Sophie was ready for it now, what if Keefe wasn't? But, "then it was like oh, no, nope he’s on the same page." Keefe was screaming "FINALLY!!!" in his head.

How different is KOTLC now from how you first imagined it? The problem they're dealing with is fundamentally built into their world--it's not just an evil villain who decided to take over. "Multiple rebellions are going on because there are some fundamental injustices that have been ignored and ignored and ignored. And two groups have said enough is enough."

She always knew they'd have to reckon with this--in some ways they have, but there's more to come. But she also always leaves room for ideas to grow. Her first ideas aren't her best; they're too obvious. Now she's had a lot of time to think Keeper through.

Even still, she worries about doing it justice and, even with a plan, never knows for sure what will happen until she sits down to write it.

Shannon returned the question to B.B. He said the same thing--at a certain point as the story grows, you can really do so many more things, you have so many more villains. It builts the characters and relationships.

Shannon takes a moment to recommend B.B.'s series, Amari and the Night Brothers. She can't sing it's praise enough. "After you race through Unraveled, race through this!" There are 3 books out with 2 more to come. Maybe more.

10 books is a lot--how does Shannon do it? This is part of why she has those weekly zoom chats. But she's constantly going back to look things up, making lists of unanswered questions, listening to the audiobooks. It's all daunting. "It's all chaotic. Wonderful, glorious chaos. That's what I'm telling myself."

Readers are anxious to get back to Keefe and Fitz. How awkward would a conversation be now? Oh yeah. They've had to be around each other since all of that, but that haven't had to openly acknowledge it. But Shannon can feel the scene on the horizon and can't avoid it forever--though Keefe would love to. "Peace out!" Given Fitz's temper, Shannon fully expects there to be yelling, but sometimes he surprised her. We'll see once she gets there.

When Shannon gets too specific in outline, it sucks the life out of her story. She needs to know the rough order of the plot--this threat, then this thing, this this reveal. But the little emotional beats are more up to the characters. Talks this through with her editor too.

Can you tell us anything about book 10? Would love to be like it exists and it's coming out tomorrow! Sadly, still writing it and doesn't know the exact release date. She promises she'll get it to us as soon as she can. Obviously we left Stellarlune on a huge cliffhanger and Unraveled answers some questions but doesn't deal with it at all.

"Keefe's secrets...secrets do have a way of coming out." He can't hide them forever and it'll take something big to motivate him to come clean. "Wow, that's the most non-answer. I swear answers are coming!"

Is there any news on the movie? Earlier this year they announced Warner Brothers got the rights and Emma Watts is the producer. Currently Emma is working hard to get everything behind the scenes in a row to give the movie the best possible chance it has to get greenlit and made since it'll be so expensive.

Shannon thinks this team is one of their best shots at it happening. There's still a bit of finger crossing, but it anyone can make it work, it's Emma Watts.

Shannon is NOT writing the screen play. She's got book 10 to write, plus she doesn't think she can be objective about the changes that'd need to be made to adapt it. She's too attached. She wants to give input and suggestions, but wants something with more screenwriting expertise and distance from the story.

B.B. doesn't want to write his screenplay either--it's a totally different skill.

What's your best advice for new writers? Ooh, okay. 9 times out of 10 when a young writers asks for advice, Shannon asks "Have you written your book yet?" And the answer is no. They're just thinking about writing a book. So her advice: focus on writing! Finish that book! You can't be a writer unless you write! Then revise and revise and revise. "The work is not done when you get to the end."

When you have the best book you could possibly have, then think about next steps and publishing. But for now...write!

Shannon returned the question to B.B., who says to read widely. Read as much as you can to build up your story skills. Find what you like. As KOTLC readers, we've seen in the story how to develop characters and plots and arcs.

He also says don't put pressure on yourself. Write for the fun of writing, so even if it never goes anywhere, you still have something you're proud of.

"Once it's a job it's a job. It's different."

Shannon doesn't find books on writing helpful for her; they're procrastination. Instead she reads and asks herself what's working and why--why am I enjoying this so much?

She learned the most from books she didn't like. She asked herself why she wasn't into it--which doesn't mean there was anything wrong with it. It was personal preference, which helped her find her writing voice. She likes a lot of dialogue, a lot of humor, cliffhangers, etc.

School may ask you to read things you don't like; as a writer, take it as an opportunity to pick it apart and find out why.

How do you come up with character names? Baby name books. By the time she had to name her own kids, she was already an expert. She likes names to match the character.

Sophie was going to be named Alexandra because it means helped and defender of mankind, but it was too on the nose. She wasn't an Alex, or Alexis, or even an Alexandra

Sophie means wisdom, which is what she gives to her world. "No pressure, right?"

Fitz is from Fitzroy, which means son of the king, and his family is almost like royalty.

"Keefe means handsome. *shrugs* So. Obvious there." The book she got it from said "good-looking one" specifically.

It's the same for B.B. He likes to look at the year the character was born and what was popular, too. Amari means inner strength, and a big part of her story is learning she's more than where she's from and to believe in herself

How does it feel to write from a new POV? Would we maybe get a Fitz book? Shannon's learned to never say never. The story could throw her another curve ball, she might do a short story in his POV. If the story dictates she needs to step into anyone else's shoes, she will. "I've gotten this far by trusting the story."

Who was Shannon's favorite author/book when she was 12? Shannon grew up before the big children's media boom, she she didn't have a lot of options. She did like the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

"You have no idea how lucky you are there's so many great stories out there. Different POVs, more characters that look like more people--though still need more work on that front."

For B.B., he was a huge fan of Charlie and the Chocolate factory--but he also didn't have much to pick from.

When Shannon was around 12, she also fell out of love with reading. She had a 7th grade teacher who was very strict about reading "at your level." And she decided Shannon was at college level, so kept giving her older books like Crime and Punishment, Little Women, etc.

While Shannon appreciates the classics, they weren't what she wanted to read, and it turned it into a chore. She went from a kid who took stacks home from the library to someone who only read if it was an assignment. (Shocked faces in chat).

Shannon firmly believes in letting your kids read what they want. That doesn't mean don't encourage them to broaden their horizons, but don't take away things they love. That's how you kill someone's love of reading.

B.B. gives props to Shannon for the female main character; it's one of the reasons Amari can exists--"well Shannon did it and it worked."

Shannon's very glad Amari exists. Keeper got a lot of rejections with coded wording that made it very clear female main characters were not as marketable as boy heroes. And she wasn't an instant success--it took about 5 books to gain momentum, and a lot of that was teachers, librarians, book sellers, and the kids themselves telling their friends to read it.

Any info on the graphic novel? Part 2 is definitely coming and in the works, it just takes time. She's seen some tentative cover sketches, might see more soon, and is very excited.

Team Fitz or Team Keefe? Even though Shannon's written a whole book from Keefe's POV *she holds it up backwards, then upside down, then gets it right* and has a Keefe cutout in the corner *moves the camera so we can see him--he was gonna be in the background but it looked creepy*, she truly is Team Sophie. If she ever got a tattoo, it's say Team Sophie. But she's terrified of needles so never will.

People think they kissed so it's settled, right? "Well, the series isn't done yet. Sophie could change her mind." This goes back to what Shannon talked about with letting the characters dictate the emotions.

What first inspired Keeper? A lot of things. Hilariously, it started as a short story. Epic fail--she's what, 8,000 pages into her short story? She was working on a different book and got stuck, so decided to get to know a side character.

The side character she chose was Fitz. For some reason, she doesn't know why, the plot was he'd meet a little girl and realize she was an elf.

But "Guess what, you're an elf!" was a terrible ending and she couldn't stop thinking about it. What happened to that little girl? How could she not know she was an elf? Why would they hide her?

A few weeks later she knew "yeah, I gotta switch books." She couldn't get it out of her head, but it was daunting because she knew it would be a massive project. But that little girl would not go away.

What was the inspiration for Amari? Doing pre-med stuff is long and boring, so he was looking for something fun. He thought about Men in Black and what if there were supernatural creatures living amongst us. He was working on the world and one day Amari popped into existence.

Has Shannon ever made the Keeper recipes and what's her family's favorite? Shannon actually developed the recipes herself, which wasn't something she ever thought she'd have to do. It took a lot of baking fails, but her favorite is anything mallowmelt--but she always warns people it's SO sweet. Good, but a few bites is enough sugar for a week.

Planning any non-Keeper series? Shannon doesn't know what she'll do once she's done with KOTLC. She'll definitely keep writing because she loves telling stories, but she's so immersed in Keeper all her other ideas are on the back burner.

B.B. thanks Shannon for being so inspirational with her work and how she interacts with her fans--he learned a lot from her. Shannon says B.B.'s always one of the top people she loves to do events with.

Once again, she is begging everyone to read Amari and the Night Brothers. "Please, please, please read them! Oh and I guess read Unraveled too. *accidentally holds it upside down again*"

“Tomorrow it's out in the world. Thank you for your faith in me and I can't wait for you to learn all of Keefe's secrets. It's gonna be an adventure.”

[dina-winchester]

Echoes of Us ³

Read part two here

Pairing: Dean x you | Established relationship

Summary: Up there, with the whole city stretching out around us, sunlight in his eyes and Paris at our feet—and he looked at me like I was the view.

The morning came in slow, like the city was in no rush to wake.

You slipped out of bed to the sound of soft birdsong and the distant rumble of a scooter down the cobblestone street. Dean stirred behind you, arm reaching out to find you in the sheets, his groggy voice muffled by the pillow.

“Where you goin’, sweetheart…?”

“Nowhere,” you whispered, smiling as you leaned down to kiss his shoulder. “Just grabbing a shower. I want coffee. And croissants. Preferably the size of my face.”

He grunted in approval. “Only if I get a bite.”

You flicked his hip with a towel on your way to the bathroom.

The morning was crisp and golden, sunlight bouncing off the café’s windows as you and Dean settled at a little table outside, tucked under a striped awning. The street was quiet, just the soft murmur of conversation and the clink of cutlery from the tables around you.

You wore his flannel over your dress, sleeves rolled to your elbows, still warm from the way he’d wrapped you up in it before you left the hotel. Dean sat across from you, looking smug and cozy as hell, sipping espresso from the tiniest cup known to man.

“This is an insult,” he muttered, inspecting it like it might suddenly double in size. “I’ve had shot glasses bigger than this.”

You laughed, tearing off a piece of your croissant and holding it out toward him. “That’s why you ordered two.”

He leaned forward with a grin, biting the pastry from your fingers like a damn flirt.

Across the street, a little boy walking with his mother suddenly slowed, eyes wide and fixed on you. His gaze lingered for a second—curious, almost puzzled—before he tugged insistently on her sleeve and pointed.

You barely noticed him.

You were too busy giggling as Dean wiped a crumb from the corner of your mouth, voice low and teasing as he leaned in. “You’ve got a little something right there, sweetheart.”

The boy’s mother glanced your way—then paused.

Her expression shifted. Not alarm, exactly. Just something wary. Unsettled.

She placed a hand firmly on her son’s shoulder and guided him forward, away from the café, her eyes flicking back once more before she turned the corner.

Dean didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, but chose not to say anything.

“God, this is good,” you said, chewing your bite of croissant. “Flaky, buttery perfection.”

He raised his tiny cup like a toast. “To French carbs. The only thing worth crossing the Atlantic for.”

You clinked your coffee mug against it with a smile.

And didn’t look back across the street.

The walk along the Seine was slow and aimless, the kind of morning where time didn’t matter.

You drifted from one stone bridge to the next, the water below glinting in soft waves, the chatter of distant voices and the rhythmic echo of passing bikes filling the air. Street musicians played somewhere behind you, a soft accordion melody carrying on the breeze, too perfect to be real.

Dean walked beside you, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around yours. He didn’t say much. Just kept stealing glances at you, like he couldn’t believe you were really here.

Every so often, he’d squeeze your fingers, or brush his thumb against the back of your hand. Nothing flashy. Just quiet reminders that he was there. With you.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice light, “I still haven’t had a single macaron. That feels like a crime.”

Dean smirked. “We’ll fix that. I got a whole damn food list. Paris is basically an excuse for carbs and PDA.”

You laughed. “You would find the romantic city of lights and turn it into a buffet.”

“I contain multitudes,” he said, solemnly.

The next moment happened so fast, you didn’t even realize you’d stopped walking.

Dean tugged your hand gently and turned you toward him, stepping into your space like he couldn’t stand the distance for another second. You barely had time to register the look in his eyes—intense, adoring, like the whole world narrowed down to you—before he kissed you.

Not a peck. Not casual.

This was the kind of kiss that melted everything else away.

Deep. Slow. Full of a thousand things he hadn’t said. His hands cupped your face, warm and firm, and you didn’t even care that people were walking past you, that the street was alive around you. For a few perfect seconds, it all just faded out.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

Your breath was a little unsteady, lips tingling, heart racing. “What was that for?”

Dean smiled, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Felt like you were dreamin’… had to make sure you didn’t float off.”

You kissed him again, softer this time, just because you could.

“God, I love you.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. “Then hold onto that.”

And then he laced your fingers together and tugged you forward.

“C’mon,” he said. “I got one more surprise for you.”

You tilted your head. “More?”

“Oh yeah.” His grin was wicked. “You didn’t think I’d bring you all the way to Paris and not take you to the top of the damn Eiffel Tower, did you?”

The elevator ride to the top was slower than you expected, the metal frame humming gently beneath your feet as the city of Paris unfolded below. You leaned against Dean, your hand laced tightly with his, eyes wide as the skyline stretched out in all directions—rooftops, domes, the winding silver ribbon of the Seine.

When the doors opened, the breeze greeted you first—cool and high, laced with that strange silence that only happens above the noise of everything else.

Dean followed you out, his hand never leaving yours. You wandered slowly to the railing, the two of you alone for just a breath before the next wave of tourists filtered in behind.

“Damn,” you whispered, staring out across the city. “This is… insane.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

You turned to look at him—and found him already watching you.

Not the view. You.

His jaw was soft, lips parted just slightly, green eyes locked on yours like he was memorizing every line of your face.

“What?” you asked, smiling faintly.

Dean shook his head, then stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. “Nothing,” he said against your ear. “Just… wish I could freeze this.”

You leaned into him, tilting your head back onto his shoulder. “We can take a picture.”

He let out a low chuckle, warm and close. “Not the same.”

Still, he took your phone when you handed it to him.

“Alright,” he said, angling it just right. “Smile, sweetheart.”

You grinned, wrapping an arm around his neck as he snapped the photo. He took a few more—some with you in front of the city, some where he made you laugh so hard you couldn’t keep still, one where he kissed your cheek at the perfect second, your face lighting up like the moment itself was golden.

You didn’t see the photo he lingered on after. The one of just you, smiling wide, wind in your hair, with nothing beside you but the open air.

Read part four here

Special tags: @robynn9436-blog @beakaleak32 @candy-coated-misery0731 @pillowjj @piertomaximoffsgirl @chaoticbasicallyuselessbisexual @mrswinchester3 @cherryresidence @shanimallina87 @amourcri3s @mandee7 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @samlou @almostshamelesstale @alexfms97 @bigmoodyjoody @deanswifeyy

Since you enjoyed my last series, you might like this one too. I appreciate you guys 🫶🏻 let me know if you’d like me to remove you from tags at any point. 🥰

[vixstarria]

'Erotic misadventures'

Hello, I wrote this for an April Fools challenge, and now it is your problem.

Challenge terms: The challenge is simple - write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts, and so on!

AO3 link

So I've always had this headcanon that Tav and Astarion perform readings of really bad erotica for the group at camp. This is a depiction of one such evening.

All origin characters.

18+, humor, banter. Is this actually smut? I don't know. I hope not.

Content warnings: ...Yes.

Approx. 1,800 words

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best piece of fiction they’d ever come across.

Meticulously handwritten in a tidy script, the text filled a sizeable journal. “Her Highness’s Erotic Misadventures” read the title. “Thank you for beta reading, Harpy Quinn”, it said at the bottom of the title page, whatever that meant. 

Despite both of them having a professional interest in lewd literature, neither Astarion nor Tav had ever come across this piece before - they doubted it had ever been published. They doubted it could ever be published, for that matter. However, it must have gone through many hands privately - on flipping through the journal it was discovered that the end contained a multitude of little gushing reviews in other people’s writing.

The author must have been one strange individual, with even weirder friends. How embarrassing.

The gang had called it a day and were gathered around the campfire. Astarion and Tav had been taking turns reading from the manuscript, to their companions’ amusement (and, in Gale’s case, vexation).

Despite being seasoned experts in the genre, Wyll and Shadowheart were visibly perturbed (albeit also intrigued) by the piece. Karlach hung on to every word, and even Lae’zel had stopped tending to her weapons to listen to the strange tale spun by the anonymous author. Volo, whose unwarranted presence continued to be tolerated, although no one could quite pinpoint why, was silent, furiously scribbling notes in his own journal. And as for Gale, well…

“This is deplorable,” said Gale, weary disappointment and disdain in his voice. “The only reason I am still here is because none of you can be trusted with the pot.”

 Astarion ignored him and continued to pace around the fire, reading aloud from the journal.

As the title suggested, the story depicted a series of obscene misfortunes which had befallen a hapless princess and her loyal knight. After several chapters of delving into the princess’s tragic and salacious backstory in (frankly bewildering) detail, the narrative had at last moved forward to a scene in which the princess’s knight came to her rescue after she had been kidnapped and taken away to a cave by a dragon. The knight faced the said dragon (who had then taken a dragonborn form for some reason) and its two harpy henchwomen.

“‘Its weak spot is its bussy’, the princess cried out from the cave,” read Astarion. “What in the hells is a ‘bussy’..?” he asked, lifting his head to seek counsel from his companions. 

Everyone around the fire just shook their heads, equally perplexed. 

“Hmm… Well, it seems our hero doesn’t know that word either...” Astarion continued reading.

“‘Puzzled, the paladin took a shot in the dark, cramming her manhood-’ Wait, what? I could have sworn...” Astarion shuffled through the pages. “…Oh she’s got both sets. How convenient… Anyway. …‘Cramming her manhood into the dragonborn’s meatgrinder’.” Astarion frowned again, sitting down next to Karlach.  

“Is the ‘meatgrinder’ the dragonborn’s mouth, or..?” asked Shadowheart.  

“I… think so? There’s not many contextual clues here, it just says that the ‘meatgrinder swirled around her pork sword, stunning her and nearly making her forsake her oath of propriety’.” 

“Well keep going, we’ll figure it out,” Karlach said, impatiently.

“The two harpies swarmed the stunned paladin. A hand deftly shed the paladin’s breastplate, exposing her pearls, whilst another grabbed her by the neck, clawed fingers shredding the remnants of her clothing, as two hands groped and teased her milkbags. She felt a hand creep up the back of her thigh while another hand pulled on her hair, as another crept to her moistening oyster-” Astarion stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “How many hands do these bloody things have?! I’m losing focus.” 

“And the mention of pearls…” Wyll said, thoughtfully. “It’s peculiar, you would think a pearl would be inside the… never mind”.  

 “Shadowheart, could you and Tav assist us with a visual, perchance,” asked Astarion. “I can’t be the only one who can’t keep track.”

“Perhaps I could also be of assis-” started Wyll.  

“Perhaps you could sit right back down,” Astarion warned with a glower. “I'll step in if needed. Where was I..? Ah yes, the err… the milkbags. So there’s definitely two hands there.”  

Both Tav and Shadowheart giggled as Shadowheart stood to join Tav by the fire and reached around Tav to lightly place her hands over the other woman’s breasts.

“Nice,” said Karlach. 

“The harpy pinched her pearls, and pulled her into a deep, ravishing kiss,” Astarion read, looking up expectantly at Tav and Shadowheart.

“Uh… That is not in the book, soldier,” said Karlach, reading over Astarion’s shoulder.  

“Spoilsport,” muttered Astarion. “I was just trying to set the mood before moving forward - the author’s pace is almost too relentless even for me. But fine.” 

Astarion cleared his throat and continued. 

“Then one of the harpies used her hands to pry open the paladin’s clam.” He looked up again. “Well come on, Shadowheart, pry open Tav’s clam.” 

Shadowheart simply laughed and returned to her spot across the fire. 

“If you’re not sure how - we could show you later tonight, if you like,” Astarion called out after her. 

“I’m sure I could give you some pointers on dealing with clams, Astarion,” retorted Shadowheart. 

“Is that so..?” he purred. “Interesting… What about you, Karlach, are you adept with clams?” 

“You know I haven’t had any clams in a decade, fangs!” Karlach groaned. “But before that… They used to just fling themselves at me, already opened, yeah.” 

“Fascinating. Lae’zel?” 

“There are a number of women who have survived bedding me,” the githyanki responded, deadpan. 

“I am… in equal parts concerned and aroused at the thought,” Astarion mulled over her words. 

“I wish anyone could survive bedding me,” grumbled Karlach. 

“There there, darling…” Astarion reached out to carefully pat her on a horn. “Now we all know Gale doesn’t know the first thing about clams…” 

“I’ll have you know, in my ethereal relations with my goddess, our connection was so profound that not only have I experienced her ‘clam’, I have interconnected with it on such a sublime and intimate level, been woven so deeply into it to myself have become part of the clam.” 

Gale’s outburst failed to have the effect he had desired, as the group struggled to contain themselves, wheezing and huffing for air. 

“Thank you, Gale, I don’t believe I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind anytime soon,” Astarion continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Wyll..? How fare you with prying clams open?” 

“Well…” The warlock began, with a smile. “I find, that the best way to go about it is to allow the clam to open of its own accord, from heat. From it getting sufficiently… steamy, if I may. I would never simply invade one with my blade.” 

Astarion was about to say something but just chortled instead. 

“Wyll, you rapscallion, every time I think I have you figured out-” 

“What happens next with the harpies?” Came an impatient call from Lae’zel. 

“Yes, give me that, you’re taking too long,” said Tav, snatching the journal back from Astarion. She continued to pace around the fire as she recited: 

“The dragonborn stood before the browbeaten paladin, reveling in her anguish. Even had the harpies not had a firm grasp on the paladin and her unmentionables, she would not have known how to approach the dragonborn – the loathsome creature was covered in impenetrable scales. Its mouth sported rows upon rows of sharp teeth – the only reason it allowed the paladin’s mutton machete out unscathed must have been because it had worse yet torments in mind for it.

The creature turned its back on the paladin, to roar tauntingly at the princess somewhere in the cave. 

‘Behold, as I turn your valiant saviour into naught but a pathetic cumdumpster!’

As it turned its back, the paladin glimpsed a narrow, pink orifice beneath its tail.” 

Karlach and Wyll gasped in unison.  

“The bussy!” Lae’zel hissed in a hushed whisper. 

“The paladin drew on the last of her divine power to throw the harpies off, smiting them unconscious, and plunged her hand into the dragonborn’s puckered hole.” 

“I am going to be sick,” moaned Gale. 

“The dragonborn cackled and flexed their beef ring, tightening its grasp on the paladin’s hand. The paladin reeled in horror, as the dragonborn’s poop chute seemed to suck the paladin’s hand further in, like fleshy quicksand, whilst threatening to snap her wrist.”

A tear of anguish slid down Gale’s cheek.

“It cannot be! Was the bussy a trap?!” came an outcry from Lae’zel.

“No! It could not end this way. Her entire life and all her training had been preparing her for this,” Tav read. “What in the hells, really?” she muttered, before continuing. “In that moment, she knew that the only way out - was through. The paladin took a deep breath and PLUNGED her arm deeper into the dragonborn’s vile cavity,” Tav exclaimed, throwing her own fist in the the air, to the sound of Astarion’s uncontrollable giggling and everyone else’s gasps.

“The dragonborn yelped and tried to expel the paladin’s arm from their pulsating dirtbox, to no avail. The paladin was now elbow deep in the mud dungeon. The two continued to wrestle, the paladin’s arm pumping deeper and deeper into the dragonborn’s dank portal.”

“I fear I may need to tap out soon,” warned Wyll.

“Weakling!” Lae’zel and Shadowheart said in unison, before glaring at one another.

No one, including Karlach herself, could tell whether she was laughing or crying.

“At last, the dragonborn seemed to accept its fate, quivering and taking the paladin’s arm nearly shoulder-deep. The creature grunted and groaned, before stilling, only to unleash an earth-shaking roar, finally forcefully expunging the paladin’s arm in a spray of gooey, milky spunk, as it collapsed on the ground, convulsing, clearly too incapacitated to be of any further threat.”

“Supper is ready,” wept Gale. 

“Shall I take over while you eat?” Astarion asked, to Gale’s immediate renewed protestation.

“That’s alright, I think we should take some mercy on Gale and pause here for the day,” said Tav. “Although let me peek ahead, perhaps it’s tame enough.” She took the journal and flipped forward a few pages. “Oh my…” came a surprised murmur from Tav. “You’ll never guess what happens to the princess and her knight… This may be a problem if we want to continue to visualise this masterpiece properly.” 

“Oh? Dare I ask..?” Astarion was giddy with anticipation. 

“Well… There are now… Five… Six… No, seven! Seven dwarves, who have appeared in the cave.” 

“Goodness gracious,” lamented Astarion. “We will never keep track of all the body parts… Perhaps if Withers steps in to help..? Would you prefer to be the princess or the knight, darling? You can choose, I’ll take the other role.” 

“I am going to use that journal for kindling tomorrow,” said Gale. 

“NO!” came a collective shout from the rest of the group. 

~~~~~

Sorry about the psychic damage, come check out my other work if you dare.

~~~~~

Tagging the usual plus some people who I think might also be doing / were interested in this:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @pursuitseternal @comatosebunny09 @kittenintheden @bardic-inspo @tavyliasin

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

purely self indulgent- idk if there’s even a demand for wlw kaiju no 8 content but nobody else was going to write it so i had to take matters into my own hands <3

i’ll also probably write more of these two tbh because i’m obsessed with them.

this life and the next

Mina Ashiro x fem!reader

Summary: you really were brilliant once, one of the greatest scientists the defense force had ever had. even taking to predicting the different mutations of kaiju before they could even be spotted. with your fiancée and soon to be wife swiftly making captain of the third division to say you were a power couple was an understatement. until your illness took over and you were forced to go inactive in order to preserve your health. mina knows her job takes a toll on you regardless though and will do almost anything to keep you safe. even if it means taking advantage of her status.

Contains: scientist!reader, established relationship, wife reader, shorter reader, mentions of chronic illness, slight power dynamics if you squint, fighting, flashbacks, aaaaand for the first time ever on this blog GLORIOUS WLW SMUUUUUT (however that is only a small part of this so if that makes you uncomfortable you’re free to skip that part and still be able to read most of this <3)

WC: 3.8k because i couldn’t stop yapping about this woman even if i wanted to

I swear I didn’t breathe until the door swung open again, hands clasped in some futile prayer to a god I wasn’t sure I believed in anymore. The entire world seemed to stop the moment it finally did though. “Mina…” I breathed out in a desperate whimper as I took off towards her, immediately tossing my arms around her neck as I felt my feet leaving the ground.

“I’m here, dove.” She whispered, letting her back press against the wall as I encircled my legs around her waist. Even when exhausted still lifting me with pure ease as I burrowed my face into her shoulder. A multitude of tears finally seeping from my eyes and soaking into the fabric of her jacket. “Shhh, my darling, I’m here. I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?”

“You still scared the shit out of me.” I spoke before finally letting my legs unravel from her waist only to feel her bringing my body in to press against her own. The only comfort I ever had after a mission, especially whenever they seemed to be getting tougher and tougher by the day. I told myself she was worth it though, every single time, worth all of the anxiety and sleepless nights. Because heaven knew I had put her through the same thing over the years. Her delicate hands slid into my hair as she held my still shivering body to her chest, the noticeable thump of her heartbeat sounding in my ear causing my eyes to flutter. She was worth it. She was always worth it.

~

-seven years ago-

“I have an irredeemable amount of selfishness inside me, every time I hold you. Every time I kiss you. Every time I taste you.” She had whispered years ago, my back pressed to her chest as she traced out the lines of my fingers from over my shoulder. I stifled a moan as I felt her lips brushing against my neck, breath hitching as my hand curled into the fabric of the sheets below.

“I think I quite like that you’re selfish then.” I muttered as I slowly inched onto my back, resting my hand against her cheek. “I think I quite like having you all to myself, captain.”

“I’m not captain yet.” She brushed off with a shake of her head, the smirk never leaving her lips though as she crawled right back on top of me, a position we were both all too familiar with. “But if you keep calling me that I’m gonna have to so something about it.”

“Mina.” I whimpered, as I felt her lips grazing the skin on my neck once more, a wetness already pooling in between my thighs as her weight shifted against my body. The feeling of her knee expertly pressed against my center. My jaw dropping as she already brought a needy moan out from my lips.

“Oh dove, you crumple underneath me so easily, don’t you?” Her hand came upwards to grasp my chin while my own arms slid around her shoulders, relishing the feeling of bare skin along the path of my fingers. I was the only person in the entire world who got to see her like this, I felt like the luckiest person in the entire world. But even as she peered down at me I could see her face falling from the seductive playful expression she had, yet another side of her only I got to see. “Being with me jeopardizes your health, I know that now.”

“According to my expert research, multiple orgasms is actually really good for you.”

Mina only chuckled a bit to herself as she climbed off of me, the action only making my own expression drop however as she encircled her arms around me. “Look at you, I’m trying to be serious and you have me laughing like… some pathetic school girl.”

“Hey, your girlfriend is a pathetic school girl lest you forget.” I teased playfully as I rolled over to rest my head against her chest, both of us still bare from the activities of last night, her warm body flush against my own. “But okay, I’ll let you be serious.” I murmured into her skin, my fingertips tracing out faint shapes against her collarbone.

“Being with me jeopardizes your health.” She repeated, “I have a dangerous job, a demanding job that’ll only get worse if I become captain.”

“You mean when?” I spoke, tilting my head upwards to meet her fiery eyes. “Mina I- I know that. I knew all of this whenever I signed up to be yours. I’m not afraid.” I added with a shake of my head.

Mina curled her hand around mine where it laid balled up against her chest, “I know, and that might be the most dangerous thing about you. You know being with me could completely and irrevocably destroy you and yet… you’re still here.”

“So destroy me then.” I interrupted once more, and if was anybody else I’m sure she wouldn’t have hesitated to snap. But I wasn’t sure anybody else. I couldn’t be. I slid my arm around her shoulders, burying my face right into the crook of her neck as I felt her arms fold against my back. “Destroy me, I’ll let you.”

~

I recalled that conversation every time this happened. The years hadn’t always been kind to us but we made it work. It killed her every time the illness brought on another flare up that conveniently happened every time one of these heavier missions came about. It seemed like they were always heavy these days though.

“Dove?” She began, hands cradling my face as we inched away, my own shivering as I kept them propped on either side of her chest. Instinctively already tracing out the line of a thick scar she always kept tucked away underneath her layers of black. “Did you watch from operations even though I told you to stay here?” My heart dropped as I gulped down a heavy lump. Fuck, it was impossible to hide things from her, she saw right through me. She saw right through everything.

“Okonogi was never given orders to block my access up there-”

“Then it seems like I need to start giving her those orders then.” Her expression shifted into a frustrated one as she let her arms fold across her chest.

“I am your wife!” I finally snapped, letting my voice raise as I took a step towards her and bridging our gap once more, even though I knew exactly where it would lead. I seldom overpowered her, and some days I enjoyed it. Hell, most days I enjoyed it. I couldn’t ever explain the pride that bloomed in my chest every time I heard the words Captain Ashiro. Every time I was addressed as Mrs. Ashiro or Dr. Ashiro, Mina usually made sure it was the latter however. But in moments like these, I couldn’t help but feel like she took advantage of it.

“And I am still your captain!” Her voice carried just as loud as mine, if not louder. It demanded authority, where as mine only seemed to be a strangled cry for help. “It is my job to protect you! In whatever way I deem necessary!”

“I’m not the one on the battlefield! You’re not the one who would sit in this goddamn apartment all night… alone… just waiting to get the worst possible news I could ever get! I deserve to be in the know! I deserve to be aware of your safety!” My voice cracked, a sob breaking free just at the mere thought of some general coming up to my door. A firm salute and a neverending apology. “What am I supposed to do? Just- live without you? Find somebody else?”

“Would you want that?” She questioned, not in an attack but to genuinely ask as she finally stepped up close to me. “To find someone else?”

“No.” The answer broke through the silent sobs as I slumped against the wall, and in that moment I wasn’t sure I had ever felt more helpless before in my entire life. “It’s you or- or nobody.” I sniffled, feeling her rough hands slide into mine as she pulled me back into her. “I-I’m just scared- I-”

“I know, my dove.” She was back to being gentle, the commanding officer side of her now gone, she was back to being my wife. My gentle and caring and brave wife that I could cling to and always know I’d be safe in the arms in. I just wished she was as safe as she made me feel. “You just have to trust me, trust that I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you. In this life and the next.” Her hand caressed the back of my head.

“I’m sorry.” I whimpered softly, tears soaking into the black fabric of her casual uniform while her hands softly ran through my hair. “For disobeying you.”

“You know…” she hummed a bit to herself as she gently grasped my chin, holding it right in between her thumb and pointer finger. “There are worse things you could’ve done.” Her soft smile briefly calmed my racing heart as I glanced up at her, watery eyes and all as a tiny smile tugged on the corners of my lips to match her own.

“There are infinitely worse things I could’ve done.” I momentarily teased before lifting a hand to wipe at my eyes.

“Now… may I finally kiss my beautiful wife after a very exhausting mission?” She questioned, gentle arms sliding around my waist, and after all of this time I still blushed like mad any time she did so.

“Yes, you may, captain.” I smiled as I rose up onto my tiptoes and tossed my arms around her shoulders. Her lips were warm and soft, like finally coming home after being away for a long time. Each kiss always felt like the first one all over again, my textbooks thrown haphazardly around my dorm room on base. All intentions of her ‘helping me study’ since long gone. Even then the amount of power she held over me felt so strong, and it only lured me to her even more.

Over the years the awkwardness had melted away, we weren’t two inexperienced kids at 18 & 20 anymore. The hint of playfulness that always seemed to emerge between us never seemed to fade either however. Already reaching for the zipper at the front of the casual uniform of the defense force, finally sighing in relief as I felt her bare skin underneath. The sensations only causing her breathing to hitch against my lips as she scrambled to kick off her boots and discard the rest of her uniform. A laugh bubbling up in my throat as she slightly stumbled getting everything off, the uniform now a heap on the floor.

“You should really preemptively wear less clothes next time.” I joked just before it froze with a tiny gasp as she easily hoisted me up into her arms, legs flying around her waist as she gripped my thighs as if she owned them.

“I don’t know… I quite like you taking them off of me.” She smirked lightly before letting her lips press firmly to my own once more as the kiss deepened more and more by the second. I always caught myself craving her every time she got back. A mix of anxiety that only turned into red hot need once the two of us had settled. “Can I make things up to you?” She muttered in between kisses as I suddenly felt her whipping me towards the king sized bed.

“I thought you were tired.” I questioned, though I nearly whined at the feeling of her thumbs gently caressing the tops of my thighs.

“Never too tired for you, darling.” She whispered just before I felt my back being pressed to the plush silk sheets below. Her hands fumbled for the tie of the robe wrapped around my waist, a shiver breaking over my body the moment she pulled it open. Sometimes I still felt so vulnerable being bare for her like this, even sprawled out on our shared bed in our shared apartment. She always had a habit of doing that, leaving me completely at her mercy. “Every time I see you… I still can’t believe that you’re mine.”

A gasp lodged itself in my throat the moment I felt her hips pressing to my center, slotted perfectly in between my legs just as her lips brushed lightly against my neck. “Me too.”

“I know.” She smirked, her hands grasping my chin once more as she turned my head to look directly into her fiery eyes. “Captain of the Third Division and you’ve got her wrapped right around your finger, don’t you?”

“Still my greatest accomplishment.” I responded proudly, my heart nearly skipping a beat as I felt the low rumble of a chuckle in her chest. She drew a desperate whine from my mouth the moment she buried her face back into my neck however, my breathing only growing heavier as she sank her sharp teeth into the sensitive skin. “Mina, your officers are going to see that-”

“Then they all know that you’re mine.” She whispered into my skin, lips slowly inching lower as the ache in between my legs started to only grow.

“And the last name isn’t enough for you?” I questioned, a slight shiver creeping through my body as she slid her hands behind me to unclip my flimsy bra and toss it aside.

“I’m very particular over what’s mine.” She smirked, tossing her long sheet of black hair behind her shoulder as she took one of my sensitive nipples into her mouth. A pathetic whine sprang from my lips in response, thighs tightening around her waist as her calloused hands shifted downwards to wrap around them once more, her tongue dancing around the sensitive skin.

My breath came out in short and desperate gasps as I took a fistful of her black hair, my hips bucking almost painfully against her as I searched for any kind of friction. “Mina please… p-please, I need you.”

“Shhh darling… you know you don’t need to beg.” She shook her head just before pinning my quivering hips to the bed below while she only drifted lower, lips kissing down the length of my body with each breath only growing more and more heavy by the moment. “You know I always give you what you want.” She whispered before positioning herself right in between my thighs. Her fingers hooked themselves around the edges of my underwear, another cold chill hitting my body the moment she inched them down my legs.

“Mina…” I whimpered, tears nearly burning my eyes in need as my core nearly pulsated for her contact.

“Don’t rush me, dove, you know better.” She ordered, gentle yet demanding as she brought her lips to my inner thigh. Then pressing open mouthed kisses upwards, closer and closer towards where I needed her the most. “Just lay back, let me take care of you.”

I tried to muffle the whine that sprang from my lips as she let her fangs pierce the soft skin of my inner thigh. A quiet cry of desperation breaking through before I could sink my fingers back into her soft hair. She definitely left those more often, the little bites you couldn’t see as easily. Carefully she slid her muscular arm around the circumference of my thigh, effortlessly hoisting it over her shoulder before she slotted her face right in between my thighs. A moan of relief busted from my lungs as I felt the warmth of her tongue lapping at my probably soaked folds. Pressing her tongue down into the wet center she flicked her eyes upwards to meet my own, the sight and pleasure combined nearly making my eyes roll back in response.

“Mina… o-oh God, Mina… Mina!” I yelped her name like it was the only thing I knew how to say, tugging at her hair and arching my back as the pleasure came in desperate waves. The vibrations of a moan coming from her mouth nearly sent me over the edge as she dug her fingers into the plush skin of my thighs as if to keep them clenched around her head. Her own way of exerting control even whenever she was on her knees.

“Does that feel good, baby?” She whispered just centimeters from my core before diving back in, placing open mouted kisses up my slit before wrapping her glistening lips around my sensitive clit.

“O-Oh fuck… fuck yes, yes!” I gave her hair another swift tug only causing her to let out another moan, making sounds as if she was the one on the other end, she had always done so whenever she did this and believe me whenever I say she rarely did let me reciprocate. She didn’t want to relinquish control for one second. “Please don’t stop… please.” I voiced through my incessant cries of pleasure as she rolled her tongue around the swollen bud.

My hips bucked against her face for the millionth time it felt like at the pressure she applied to the bundle of nerves. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, stretching a quivering hand downwards as if to silently beg for her own. Her orange eyes gently scanned over mine once more as if to check for any signs that I was being pushed past my limits. Not that we hadn’t engaged in any activities such as that before, we were hardly vanilla. But tonight wasn’t the time for that though.

Her fingers gently slipped through mine, her thumb softly brushing over my knuckles as she parted from my center only to whisper once more, “You can take it, baby girl.” My jaw dropped once more to release another sharp moan as her lips connected back to my slick folds, tongue massaging the dimensions of my clit and leaving me feeling like I was going to squeeze the life out of her hand.

“God I- I feel like I’m gonna cum.” I spoke through shaking breaths, every muscle inside of me clenched for dear life, almost pulling her in closer to my center with my legs wrapped around her head. “Mina… M-Mina, darling, please I can’t-”

“Shhh, not yet, my love, I wanna take my time with you.” I whined in desperation at the denial, my hips already rolling up into her face only causing her tongue to delve deeper, curling up around every sweet spot she could possibly reach.

The same words danced on my tongue from before, ‘I can’t’, every second was better than the last. To the point where I felt like I was hanging off of the edge for dear life. But she liked to push me. One of her hands slid forward, trailing a line from my thighs up towards my lower stomach where she applied the most delicate little push against the area. A cry of euphoria spilled from my throat followed by the exclamation of her name, and with my hand gripping her head for dear life I let my release tumble through me.

My eyes rolled up towards the wall behind me as the high came in a loud wave. My legs trembled around her face, her eyes glued to mine with an expression as if she had been smirking. She lapped up every bit of the mess, slowing the movements of her tongue as I was brought down from the high.

My chest rose and fell with sharp and heavy breaths, eyes heavy as I watched her back away with a proud expression on her face. Always resembling the one she kept plastered on the first time I had let her pin me to the bed. “Are you alright, my dove?” She whispered just before crawling back up towards where I laid still panting, cheeks as red as roses. “Did I make it up to you?”

“You never do have to try very hard, do you?” I wondered with an airy chuckle before slipping my arms around her shoulders and catching her lips on mine, still able to catch the taste of myself lingering on her lips.

“Not really, I am pretty great.” She grinned. I let out a tiny squeal the moment I felt her scooping me up into her arms again, my own flying around her shoulders as she slid me off of the now rumpled bed. “C’mon darling, we’ve been together 7 years now and you still squeal every time I pick you up?”

“Maybe I’m just simply impressed by the fact you’re still slinging me around like it’s nothing whenever you just casually killed a couple of kaiju in the middle of the night and gave me the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“You say that every time I have sex with you.” She teased as she placed me on the expansive sink counter, her lips just barely brushing my temple. “But what can I say? I’m a very multi-faceted woman.” I watched her lift the plain white shirt over her head, taking some of her hair with it as she did so. The tiniest little smile tugging on my lips as I caught my eyes scanning over her figure as she stepped over to start up the glass shower. “Ogling, are we?”

“Usually.” I grinned as I hopped down from the sink counter and trotted over towards her. Slipping my arms around her from behind I placed my head against her back right in between her shoulder blades. “These moments with you are my favorites.”

“Mine too.” She sighed, placing a soft hand over top of my own as she leaned her forehead against the edge of the shower door. As if she was contemplating some failure on her part. “I’m sorry we don’t get them more often.”

I considered myself lucky she let me into these moments, even her closest friends, if you could even count the rest of the third division her friends, she rarely let them see these sides of her. I think I almost made someone laugh whenever I told them that she was capable of such emotions. Nobody knew how emotional she really was though. How she blamed herself for every little casualty or even mild injury. Everything she took personal responsibility for.

“Mina?” I whispered, lifting up on my tiptoes to prop my head on her shoulder.

“Hmm?” She hummed a bit to herself as she glanced back at me.

“It isn’t your fault.” I spoke, lightly brushing my lips against her shoulder blade. “Who you are is more than enough.” I added before encircling around her and finally tugging us both into the cloud of steam from the shower.

Credits: cityscape divider by @saradika-graphics mdni banner by @mikeykuns 💙

[sophiamcdougall]

So I have this friend who lives in my building. She is a naturally gregarious type, a bit of a people-collector, so last year instead of having one birthday party, she decided to have four, one party a week, for a whole month, all in her flat. Don't know how she does it. And the other thing about my friend is that although we live in what is generally considered a rough area, she is/was actually posh enough to have been to St Paul's School For Girls. And if you know anything about British public schools, the entire (rotten) point of them is basically that you will grow up to be part of the in-group of influential people.

So I've got somewhat used to finding out every so often that she vaguely knows some celebrity or news pundit or whatever. I was, however, a little shocked to find out she had a mutual friend with Kwasi fucking Kwarteng, partner in crime to Liz Truss the Lettuce-Conquered, you know, the ones who crashed the British economy. But not as shocked as my friend was to run into him at a party, whereupon he said to her "oh, I'm sorry I didn't make it to any of your parties!"

As if he had been invited!! As if it was a given that he could just turn up in any private home in London and everyone would be pleased to see him!! As if it was to be expected that people were out there hosting parties and being disappointed that Kwasi Kwarteng didn't show up despite never even having fucking met the guy!!

And I was so shocked at the idea I had just barely escaped being at a party which Kwasi Kwarteng could potentially have crashed at any moment that I had to have this story repeated to me twice to believe I'd actually understood. Listen. My friends. I generally like it here. I do. There is a lot of green space nearby that was a godsend during lockdown. I have a large balcony and even though the council won't fix the fucking drainage, it is overflowing with flowers. The local cornershop put a "defend drag story hour" flyer in the window. I have multiple neighbours who will feed my cat if I am away. But you know. One time I booked a plumber in and at the last minute he refused to come because the last time he parked his van here all his stuff got stolen. Another neighbour has seen people pissing in the stairwells. There is that heroin addict on the floor below who every so often runs amok and threatens to stab people. He threatened to stab me once and this year he helped me get a book case up the stairs -- people contain multitudes. The very least I should be able to expect here is to be safe from running into the former Chancellor of the fucking Exchequer.

[edenscollardrawer]

My Girl - f!Wren/f!PC

18+, content warnings and tags: alcohol, established relationship, fingering, fluffy fluffy fluff 1538 words (this is what y'all voted against for valentines day...)

“Ugh, Wren, what the hell are we doing here? It smells proper foul…” Your words came out a bit more whiny than intended as you stepped around a bucket of fish carcasses on the side of the dock, arm tightening around hers. She chuckled at your high maintenance behavior, guiding you through the rows of dimly lit shipping containers. This wasn’t a particularly appealing part of town in your opinion, the whole area had a very distinct stink. Either way, you’d go pretty much anywhere Wren asked. You’d grown increasingly fond of her during your weekly trips to the cottage, so when she texted you asking to meet at the docks, alone, just the two of you? You jumped at the chance. Turning a corner, Wren stood in front of one of the containers, tapping the side of it affectionately like it was a prized horse. 

“Alright, we’re here.” 

“...Where?” At that, Wren winked at you and pulled the latch open - swinging open the industrial entrance. Inside, it was empty - save for a single table, two chairs, and a multitude of lit candles. A white tablecloth lined surface, along with a small glass vase containing a single red rose. A deep, crimson flush immediately rose to your cheeks. This was… a date? Fuck, you would’ve at least changed out of your farm clothes if you’d realized. Wren grabbed your wrist gently and dragged you inside, the large metal door shutting behind you with a bang. Pulling out one of the chairs, you sat down - hands folded in your lap as she scooted you in. Underneath the table was a wicker picnic basket, which was slid out and opened. A cheesy grin plastered across your cheeks, your gaze fixed on her - completely enthralled by her every move. 

“What? Never been on a date before? You’re staring at me like one of those dead fish we saw.” 

“I’m just surprised you want to do anything more than snog me, that’s all.” 

“Aw, is that how little credit I’m getting? Pity, considering what I have planned.” She paints a faux pout over her lips, uncorking the bottle of wine she’d retrieved from her bag of tricks. The stream of burgundy liquid flowed into your waiting glass, and you wasted no time in raising it up in toast. 

“Cheers. To… whatever this is.” You gesture between the two of you, clinking your glass to hers and sporting a cheeky smirk. Wren sat across from you, crossing her legs. Her sultry gaze accentuated her thick lashes as she sipped on the earthy cabernet. 

“That’s why I asked you to come here, actually.” Oh? Your heart rapidly began to beat out of rhythm, heat rising in every part of you. There was no way that the notoriously promiscuous flirt was… No. She couldn’t be. A shaky inhale filled your lungs as you downed the rest of your glass in one gulp. Wren stared at you, eyebrows raised. Grabbing the bottle from the center of the table, you filled your cup so full that it nearly spilled over the edge. 

“Relax, you’re shaking like a chihuahua on amphetamines.” Wren smiled, reaching across the surface to grab ahold of your hand. She’s never done that before... Her hands were shockingly soft and well manicured, considering… whatever it is she does for work. The romantic atmosphere was doing little to calm your nerves, but the alcohol in your system was helping to lower your defenses a little. Your fingers intertwined with hers. 

“I like you. Massive bonus that you look so hot bent over my blackjack table,” Clearing her throat, she finally broke your gaze, taking a hefty gulp out of her own glass before continuing. She tried to keep her cool, but it was obvious enough that she was nervous. “Really, though. I wanted to see you alone for once. Watch that pretty little mouth of yours do some talking rather than, you know.” That signature grin spread across her cheeks, melting the last of your nerves. As close as you’d grown to her in your visits to the cottage, this felt so much more intimate than any of that. You never really got to be alone with her like this, let alone be holding her hand or sharing a glass of red. 

“I don’t think you should come by the cottage anymore.” She said definitively, and your hand loosened in hers. Huh? 

“Why? That’s the only time we even see each other.” 

“Exactly. I want to see you away from work. You’re fucking beautiful, and clever as they come.” The tightness that had been gradually coiling in your body immediately loosened. Bottom lip bitten between your teeth, you looked down at your interconnected hands and smiled bashfully. The dim candlelight illuminated her golden locks, and you could’ve sworn there was an angel across from you - halo and all. An overwhelming warmth for her bloomed within you, accompanied by a small pang of sadness at the thought of losing your weekly game together.

“Why do I have to stop coming for blackjack, though? I like playing with you.” Wren scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“Because if you’re my girl I don't really want you stripping naked for my friends, do I?” 

“Y-your… girl?”

“Don’t be dense, you’re a smart girl. My smart girl, right?” An uncontrollable burst of happiness took over you, and you pushed your chair back, walking to her side of the table and cupping her face in your palms. Leaning forward, you captured her lips in yours. You’d kissed her nearly a hundred times by now, but this was nothing like any other time. She melted into your grip, lips interlocking with yours. You stayed like that for several moments, basking in the warm glow of the surrounding flames. Pulling back, you left a final sweet peck on her cheek. As you turned back around to return to your seat, she grabbed your forearm and yanked you down into her lap - eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. 

“Don’t worry,” She pulls roughly at the center of your flannel shirt, buttons clattering onto the ground as it pops open, revealing the bra underneath. “I’ll do the hard bit for you this time.” Unhooking the clasps behind your back, your bra falls free from your shoulders, breasts bouncing out. Nipping at the space right under your ear, she whispers praises of you being such a good girl. Hands hooking into the waistband of your shorts, no time was wasted in pulling them down past your ankles along with your panties. The only warmth in the cool metal space was her clothed body against yours and the faint heat emanating off the surrounding candlelight. 

Facing her, you wrapped both arms around her neck, holding her more passionately than you ever would in front of her friends. Her hands pinned you down by the hips, thigh hiking up into your soaked center. Glossed lips enveloped yours in another steamy kiss, tongues entangling together. The air was thick with the scent of melting wax and rusted metal, but it felt strangely intoxicating in Wren’s presence. Between her slow movements and gentle embrace, you found yourself wondering if this was the real Wren - the Wren you couldn’t see back at the cottage. You could definitely get used to this version of her. 

Lost in your train of thought, you didn’t notice her digits snaking down to your center until they were swirling around your sensitive bud - a soft whimper falling from your lips. In the crowded musk of your usual setting, you’d never have reacted so softly, so vulnerably. Desperately, your fingers gripped into the space between her shoulder blades, like she could disappear at any second. Gathering up your slick, her fingers wasted no time in prodding at your waiting entrance, eliciting a gentle gasp from you. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” she nips at your earlobe, peppering kisses along the tender skin of your neck. Her digits slowly slide within your pulsing core, stretching you open as your head lulls back, eyelids fluttering shut. Each slow thrust of her fingers inside you made you whine, silencing your noises in the crook of her shoulder. It wasn’t just the wine making you feel intoxicated anymore, it was her. Every stroke of her digits inside you, every press of her lips against your skin, even just the lingering scent of her perfume. Your thighs trembled atop her lap, forcing a smug chuckle from her lips that reverberated off your skin. Each noise that fell from your disheveled body was rewarded with whispers of praise. 

Before long, your walls were clenching around her fingers - arching back pushing your chest into hers. Wren licked her lips, watching you unfold with a pleased smirk gracing her face. Sparks of pleasure exploded behind your eyelids, nothing like you’d ever felt with her during the countless orgasms she’d given you before. This was distinctly different, distinctly romantic. Coming down from your high, chest heaving, you clung to her like a child clings to their favorite teddy bear. She is your favorite teddy bear, actually. You pulled back to rest your forehead against hers, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. 

“I really like you, Wren.”

“I know.”

[atlasdoe]

Alexander Stebbins is so interesting to me because he contains multitudes. He's a very quiet, introverted person. He prefers not to be in the spotlight. He's timid and shy and retiring. But at the same time, he privately thinks he's better than everyone else. He views the vast majority of his peers as juvenile and chooses not to interact with them. Alexander knows that he's smart, and that gives him a bit of an ego. I think that he originally decided that Loretta Feildwake and Kingsley were the only people who he would tolerate, but he ended up being friendly with a lot more people who he never would have thought he would actually like (Lockhart, kind of Marlene, etc., but he would never admit it.) Oh, and there's also Hestia. He never would have expected to like her romantically and I think for the longest time he wouldn't admit it to himself. He also has a lot of anger within him but he doesn't know what to do with it. He's not particularly good at fighting, be it with his fists or with magic. He may be intelligent, but knowing the theory and putting it into practice are two different things. He's wise enough to know that he can't pick a fight, so he's always just quietly sullen and resentful. Especially towards Mulciber and Avery and Wilkes, he has so much pent up rage festering inside of him. But he's also so, so afraid. He's curious about everything. He's a perfectionist. He's a giant nerd. When he first got his Hogwarts letter he was ecstatic. It was all so magical to him, but he quickly became disillusioned. He is an extremely different person to the people who truly know him. He has the ability to be confident and flirty and he laughs easily, but around strangers he clams up and hardly even talks. If you locked him in a room with someone he doesn't know or someone who intimidates him, they would most likely come out of the experience thinking he was weird or that he has no personality. I think he would also hate Lily Evans at least a little bit, because she's everything he wishes he could be. She's also muggleborn, also a prefect, also part of Slug Club, also very smart, also from a working class family. Also angry. The entire school has seen it. But despite being so much like Alexander, she's brave. She's good with people. She can charm anyone she meets. She's the brightest witch of her age. She's muggleborn too, but no one ever went after her. And I think Alexander is sort of a jealous person as well.

Anyway. Off topic a bit, but Alexander and Loretta's friendship is very important to me. I hc that they had Arithmancy together and they were partnered up for a group project or something. They each quietly respected the other already based on academic performance. However, Loretta wanted to keep up her pureblood image and like I already mentioned Alexander is bad at meeting new people, so at first they were purely businesslike with each other. But as they started spending more time with each other, they slowly started to joke around and talk about stuff outside of the project. They discovered that they both have the same wry sense of humor, neither of them care for quidditch, and they both spend nearly all their spare time in the library. They challenge each other in a way that's good for both of them. She helps Alexander see that not being the smartest person in the room is okay, and he can learn more if he accepts that. He helps Loretta see that not every friendship has to be tactical. And that it's okay to come out of her shell once in a while (but he's still working on that as well). He dwells too much on the thoughts and actions of other people and she grounds him because she just doesn't care. At all. Compared to Loretta, Alexander is positively dramatic. For two very guarded people, they confided in each other a lot.

Wow, I wrote quite a bit. Apologies for the block of text. I hope my ramblings have made some semblance of sense.

HELLO!!!!!

oh annon you get him SO WELL!!!!!!!

Alexander being jealous of Lily is something I never thought about but now that you say it you are so fucking right!!! The fact that he and Lily are practically the same but somehow she never seems to get as much grief as Alexander and the other muggleborns do all because she was friends with Snape. And then even after they fall out she's still safe. Oooooo he would've HATED it.

And Alexander and Loretta!!!!????? I'm in love. They would work so fucking well together and I love your headcanons for them.

Ughhhhh you have no idea how happy this ask made me. Thank you so much for sending it <3

[queenofbaws]

top 5 favourite until dawn characters to WRITE vs top 5 favourite until dawn characters in general (if it's different)

it is such an important distinction med, and i thank you endlessly for letting me get into it 😏

WRITING

1. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: this one likely shocks no one. there's just. a joy. that comes with writing an unhinged, monster-hunting hermit. he kicks doors open. he lives in a burnt out hospital full of Creatures. he's larry fessenden. he's alive in canon for roughly 5 minutes. he's the light of my life. 2. mike: probably slightly more of a surprise because i don't write him OFTEN, but i love writing mike. lovelovelove writing him. mostly because, of the ud kids, i think he's the character who talks...the most...like i do irl??? similar speech patterns, i mean - same tendency to just. say things. that do not make sense. or things that did not need to be said. 3. EMILY: again, probably a surprise because i don't write her much, but my GOD there is a freedom to writing in emily's voice asldkfjdskf she's smart. she's mean. she always has at least three insults locked and loaded in the chamber. she's also the only character in the franchise to say "understand the palm of my hand, bitch." she contains multitudes. 4. dr. hill: gotta be honest here. i went through. a lot. of schooling for psychology. okay. like. however much you think that means? it was like. twice that. and i spent a lot of time - a lot of time - listening to professionals in the field talk in circles and say absolutely batshit things while sagely nodding and giving everyone around them knowing looks, and if i didn't have alan j. hill to channel all that lingering angst into, i might've exploded by now 😫 hehehehehe. i'm only sort of joking. 5. beth: what did supermassive give her? nothing. what does that mean? she can be anything i want, and i don't have to worry over whether or not it sounds believable in canon 😎 lmfao. in much the same way i looove writing jack because we get like. 10 lines and A Vibe from him, beth's a hoot to write for because, like. we know who her siblings are. we have an IDEA of what her home life must've been like...and everything else is up for debate!!!

JUST, LIKE, TO LOOK AT

1. ashley ashley ashley: they could never make me hate you bb. did she handle some things poorly? yes. does she make some questionable decisions? sure. would i give her the world if the opportunity presented itself? of course. look, i just think. she should get to do...whatever she wants. always. as a treat. :)c 2. matt: i am so. intrigued. by matt's whole deal. every second of it. he's a huge part of the prank but he's also hugely sympathetic. he has that incredibly cute moment with ashley right as they get to the lodge but seems pretty chilly (if not downright disinterested in) chris and josh, her best friends. he helps jess through the mines. he holds his own with emily. unless you play him a v certain way, he seems the most interested in smoothing things over between everybody. HE LEAVES. THE FUCKING. HATCHET. AT THE BASE. OF THE FIRE TOWER. i would love to live in his brain for just like...ten minutes. just really figure him out. (i need to write more with him too 😭 he has bewitched me, body and soul) 3. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: look. look i'm not subtle. i just. love that weird old man. i just love him so much. if supermassive said 'hey here's a dlc where you go through one (1) calendar day as jack fiddler, it costs $60 and is roughly 1 hour of gameplay,' i'd fold immediately. idk why. 4. josh: there is no one - NO ONE - in this, or any other, game who's so willing to commit so fully to the bit. my man had BLUEPRINTS. my guy had DEAD PIGS. bro sourced knockout gas and fake newspapers and real blood and made voice recordings and an alter ego and rigGED HIS WHOLE FAMILY'S VACATION HOME WITH BOOBY TRAPS, THREW A PARTY ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS SISTERS' SUPPOSED DEATHS, AND EVERYONE STILL FUCKING SHOWED UP. say whatever else you want about him, josh had SOMETHING figured out, man. 5. jess: again. did she make some questionable decisions? sure. do i agree with everything she did? no. but after everything she goes through, after all the tragedy and agony and terror she is put through, this girl still has the wherewithal to grab a shovel and beam a guy in the head with it, and you know what? i respect that 🙏🏻 plus she wore hiphuggers to a party on a mountain in alberta in the dead of winter, and i just want to study her under a microscope.

[dametussy]

On Being an Unloved Character from an Unpopular Source

My name is Dametas, and I regret to report that I’ve been forgotten.

My source material, a Shakespearean/jukebox fusion musical called Head Over Heels, lived and died on Broadway some years ago. With it, so did I, as I know myself. Other versions of me survive in whatever regional theatre companies have the good taste to adapt HOH, but none of them are me. We have two other fictives from this musical: the selfless shepherd Musidorus, and my most beloved, dearly sacred Pythio.

Musidorus sees some glimmers of herself in other adaptations, but she was sourced from a regional production to begin with, so there’s already a level of unrelatability to her self-conception, when I compare it against my own. Pythio, being the complex angel that They are, sees the complete reflection of Themself in the face of every actor or actress who has ever borne Their name on a playbill. This includes everyone from Their Broadway actress, Peppermint, to our very own body— on a technicality— and I can’t say I don’t envy Them for it.

Where I think the three of us differ is in essence. Musidorus relates solidly to her Broadway version, not in the least because of their similar voices and physiques. Most of their differences are in subtler things like hair color, facial structure, or alignment on the bigender presentation spectrum. In the end, she can recognize any portrayal with a similar essence to her own as a Musidorus unto himself.

As I partly described, Pythio can perceive anyone who claims to be Their character as a new aspect of Their being, with no regard to appearance, acting ability, species/gender presentation, or otherwise. This could theoretically be detrimental; if one were to name a cooked spaghetti noodle “Pythio” and toss it onto a stage, our Pythio would sincerely resonate with that interpretation. I adore every one of the infinite multitudes Pythio contains, but I am much more attracted to people than to pasta.

To return to myself, I rarely ever see more than glimpses of my own essence in portrayals beyond the familiar Broadway territory. If he doesn’t look like me, chubbiness and sock-sandal-combo and all, the connection is DOA. If he’s taller than Pythio, or if he seems to regard Them as anything less than the very possessor of his soul, then he’s like me in name alone. I haven’t yet run across a second portrayal of my character that resonates, and because of this, I sometimes feel like I’m dead to the outside world.

Not only was my essence scattered to the wind after the Broadway HOH’s closing night, but even before then, I doubt I was particularly well-known. In the days when it was open, Pythio was Pythio, and as such was inherently unforgettable. Musidorus was a main protagonist, with all the charm and drama needed to win audiences over. But… me? I was the set piece in a world full of star power. They fought duels and issued prophecies while I pushed around props and “coincidentally” found myself in the back row of every dance number. If an audience member fell asleep during the right twenty minutes, I could have easily been mistaken as part of the ensemble, if not a fashionable stagehand.

That’s not something I would change about myself, but it is something that brings up emotions too complicated for names. I’m naturally helpful and obedient— I was King Basilius’s advisor and servant, so of course I’d be doing the menial work that was too good for him! That was my entire job! Pythio has helped me feel prouder of my station and personality, but I feel no less neglected by the general public for it. I got a minute-long solo :) which didn’t even make it into the show :( It’s a miracle it ended up on the soundtrack!

My heart goes out to fictives who identify with their sources and suffer as I do. To the side characters, to the background characters, to the OCs, to all of you who never make it onto merch or the tops of tierlists… I see you. Trust me when I say that you are worth remembering, and it is only the fault of a tasteless audience that your source languishes in obscurity. If you want it, I hope you find fanwork that makes you feel understood. I hope your sources and their fandoms make you feel as seen as you want, and that they characterize you in ways that do you justice. If you wish to be, may you be a blorbo to somebody who gets you.

It’s late, and I think I’ve made the points I needed to, with the exception of one: while I heavily identify with my source— clearly— I respect and acknowledge that many in the plural community do not. I understand that the way I talk about my source will not resonate with all of you. That being said, I hope my long-repressed rant finds the folks who feel like me. I hope they know they’re not alone in this.

[hadleysmis]

Montparnasse finds Gavroche

... In Hadley's AU, that is

May contain sensitive topics

Setting: The Northern island of Japan formally known as Ainu Mosir now adorns the name Hokkaidou after its official annexation. It is the 1930s and the engine of war does not pause in its acceleration.

There's two things I would like to establish happens in my AU: 1) Jean Valjean takes care of Cosette ever since she was a baby unlike in the book where she is a child ; 2) Cosette represents that no one can be a perfect victim.

With my Ainu storyline headed by Éponine largely in the prior sections and by Gavroche in the latter, I handle how I can insert Jean Valjean and Cosette's bucket scene with Montparnasse and Gavroche; and I also will handle the theme about the violent, ultimately justified minority.

Long post.

Some time ago, I wrote about my AU's Éponine being lynched in one of my posts.

After Gavroche grieved for her, the family decides to bury her before any authority got a hold of her. As M. Thénardier used to be paid to dig up bodies and earn money off from handing over skulls and buried accessories, he was scared in what they would do to his daughter.

After they had buried her, they notified the Police that she had simply gone missing, and that there were no known suspicious, potential perpatrators.

After the initial grieving days pass by, Gavroche finds his parents to continue living in Hakodate and not consider travelling 'back home'.

As Gavroche was too young to remember the time he had spent in Asahikawa (more up north than the southern-located Hakodate which was also the family's hometown), his constant pleas were ignored.

Because he was a child, and none of his siblings were born during the mass starvation tactic for assimilation of the Ainus, he did not know how harsh the situation was in Asahikawa.

Paralleling one of the great mistakes from Jean Valjean when caring for Cosette wherein he refused to correct and her and educate her on the reality of the past due to the desire of not reliving the trauma, the Thénardiers also pay the price for the miseducation of their later generation with Éponine and Gavroche.

Azelma, closer to her mother and therefore know more about her mother's life than Gavroche, makes her conclusion at the current age of sixteen to stay in Hakodate with her parents.

They argue, and Azelma argues that she wants to be Japanese.

"Even after all that the Wajin have done to us?" Gavroche almost screams in defence. In shock and horror from the dissonance from his sister, he holds himself back and instead speaks in bursts, much like a scared young dog barking.

After the multitude of attempts in maintaining an act, the walls of water in her eyes well up, and she speaks in a low, harsh whisper which echoes through the house. "What other choice do we have?"

It seems Azelma had a call of realisation earlier than Éponine had; perhaps at the same time despite not having been together. Perhaps she had felt a shiver or a severed connection as Éponine predicted, her words jagged by the involuntarily rhythms of gasps, "They're going to wipe out every one of us."

Azelma then spoke like a bee's sting: "I mean look at us. We're not even Ainus anymore."

Her words injected into her brother's bloodstream, and like how a bee tears its bottom, separating itself from the venom, Azelma gasped in shock, her mouth open, pulling in her falling tears like a slow black hole.

In terror of her own words, and in shame for still believing in her stance, Azelma rushed into her room, and thus never seeing Gavroche again.

The young teenager then took his part, planning to run away at last. He had dreamt of it with Éponine. She was the one who could've agreed to his adventurous whims and patriotic protest; only if there had been more time to convince her.

As a last farewell, he goes to his sister's grave and finds two men chatting and laughing as they dig u her body. One speaks of how grave digging is below him as a job for his status (reference to Gribier), and another who was an anthropologist.

There is also implication of rape as Éponine is a fresh corpse and not a skeleton; the two men must want either the treasures (like accessories) buried with her, or they wanted her.

Gavroche, fuelled by anger and disgust never known to him before, attacks both, and ends up killing one with a rock. The Gribier character had ran away.

Gavroche realises that he's going to die, and that this was the end for him. And he never got to go home.

It is then here we have an unexpected reference to the book; except, it isn't the father-daughter dynamic from Jean Valjean and Young Cosette, but instead father-son dynamic from Montparnasse and Gavroche.

Rather than a bucket gently being lifted, it is the bloodied rock.

However, the moment Gavroche realises there was another strong man in the scene, he is afraid. Montparnasse is a Wajin, and Gavroche tries to flee, but due to his adrenaline and energy being all spent, along with the brutal partner of realisation of murder, Gavroche crawls away and coughs deeply like he was unwillingly summoning vomit.

Montparnasse had watched on, and he makes a statement to the young boy that there is no such thing as a perfect victim.

This branch of the story is a more clear cut message from Cosette's storyline. While Cosette sympathises with the Japanese to an extent, and believes that there may be peace in the future (much like the relationship the indigenous populations of Japan on paper have today), Montparnasse, a yakuza, believes that this engines which crushes minorities to survive will perpetuate forever.

He believes that there is no rebellion, no revolution, and no change given to the system unless there's violence. If there's passive protest, then peace may be reached with a flip of a coin long after their deaths, or never at all.

He tells Gavroche that in order to live one must fight, and therefore he reassures him that he is not going to tell on the authorities about him. In fact, he was on his side.

The bloodied rock that Gavroche didn't even realise he was still grabbing tightly onto is then lifted by the yakuza, and Gavroche feels as though much of his burdens floated away with that rock.

When Montparnasse tossed the rock away, there was malice in his mind, but no anger shown in his throw. He just tosses it near the dead man's head as though it was a mere coincidence.

Montparnasse didn't care about death anyway; he had murdered himself in order to get to the point he was in.

When Montparnasse offers his cool hand, Gavroche takes it, much like how Cosette had when Jean Valjean offered his.

Montparnasse asks where Gavroche had intended to go.

"Go where?"

"You said you were dead. And that you never got to go back home."

"I have no home."

"Then where did you mean by what you said? Isn't a home what you make of it? Where did you want to go?"

Gavroche doesn't answer.

He instead presses for Montparnasse to leave so he could bury his sister again but Montparnasse suggests they go further deep into the forest and dig a new grave elsewhere.

Even though the task was carried out completely silent save for Gavroche's sniffs and whimpers, the meaning was huge.

Gavroche and Montparnasse bury her and this takes all night and day.

Exhausted, Gavroche reveals where he believed was his home: "Asahikawa." He did not elaborate beyond that; echoing the characteristic of Éponine's speech patterns.

But Montparnasse understood, and they got on a train together and headed up north.

Some of Montparnasse's enemies were on the train, and he fearlessly kills them. Gavroche is tasked to be a lookout as Montparnasse washes up.

They chuck the corpses out of the moving train, and Gavroche realises what a dangerous man he is trusting— and feeling comfort to.

Gavroche sticks close to Montparnasse as they sit in their seats, and the latter imposes authority if anybody dared to question Gavroche.

We don't get to see them actually arrive at Asahikawa nor what happens in their stay. Them heading off is more of me saying goodbye to Gavroche's storyline as I think it reaches satisfaction.

There is many problems in between why Montparnasse would find Gavroche, though. He does have a connection with the Thénardiers, but why would he favour Gavroche's side?

I'm guessing he had already met with the rest of the Thénardiers when Gavroche was absent and on the run. Or maybe Montparnasse visited them when Gavroche was off in his 'high' in his acceptance of indigenous identity where he was celebrating by doing rituals and wearing traditional clothes, etc.

Montparnasse, other than being a yakuza member, is very mysterious to me. He first appears in the AU when the Great Kantou Earthquake Massacre was happening, and provides the viewpoint of the mass executions the officials were making of communists, socialists, and pro-union citizens. (Meanwhile Javert provided the viewpoint of officials encouraging the mass lynchings of Koreans, and Jean Valjean and Cosette being the viewpoints of many ethnic minorities being slaughtered by the public.)

He calls the communists and whatnot his friends, but I have not created scenes where he directly converses or associates himself with them.

As far as I have made him, he could possibly be a communist, or Korean, or any other minority that was killed within that short period of time.

This is important of a detail as it would then explain why he would take pity on the Thénardiers and even come to visit them and eventually take Gavroche in.

When it comes to this type of history and its inseparable politics, I always stood on the ground that connection and communication between minority groups are important in order to keep the majority on a leash or outright cause a change through international pressure.

I'm supposing this was my reasoning for writing this storyline— as it emphasises empathy and togetherness, with the painful string of oppression and trauma grouping them together.

Anyways, while Cosette and Marius' storyline comments on my support for better education on history, this storyline represents more of my social beliefs in how minorities should stick together.

'If one minority isn't free, we all aren't free.'

The storyline was also inspired by one of the beginnings scenes, if not the beginning scene, from the 1996 Korean adaptation of Les Misérables, the Priest Francesco (Bishop Myriel) watches an insect struggle in the snow. it seems to be a metaphor on how the underprivileged act in away that is natural to the circumstance: just as the ant flails and struggles to stay alive in the snow, we are later shown a mentally unstable man with a knife having stabbed a woman.

I just came up with this storyline, so it's a baby. Who knows how this will develop, if at all.

If you did make it down here, ahhhhh I'm so happy and grateful. You have a nice day!

[basic-x-witch]

The Twin's Gambit

Chapter Eleven: Was I Ever Enough?

Warning: this chapter contains heavy topics, such as ptsd, and death

Rook paced back and forth through the greenhouse, surrounded by the multitude of plants that her dear friend had once cared for. Her face flushed and raw from the tears that streamed down, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. She felt like her whole body was on fire; her hands shook violently as she raked them through her hair. Her head throbbed with the intensity of the thoughts rushing through it, her chest heaving from sharp, ragged breaths. All she could see was red. Her sobs rang loud through the open air before turning into loud, rupturing screams.

Rage.

Though not like before, this was not a blackout, this was deliberate. This was the cork that suppressed her emotions, finally being violently ripped from the bottle. The floodgates had been opened, and there was no turning back. This was the aftermath of nearly 20 years of being treated like she was unwanted. 20 years of being forced to fight for her right to live. 20 years of bad choices and regrets. 

20 years of raw suppressed rage.

“WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS!” she screamed. “THOSE FUCKERS, CASTING ME ASIDE BECAUSE OF A STRING OF EVENTS THAT I DIDN’T HAVE ANY CONTROL OVER!”

Rook frantically looks around the greenhouse and sees a loose brick on the floor. Without a second thought, she picks it up and throws it full force through one of the windows. It shattered the window, glass falling to the floor with a loud crash. She grabbed a few of the small potted plants and broke them, kicking others, dirt scattering across the ground. 

“YOU’VE ALWAYS LIED TO ME OR KEPT ME IN THE DARK! FIRST, YOU LIED ABOUT OUR MOTHER AND FATHER! ABOUT THEIR DEATHS, THEN YOU LIED TO HIM, TOLD HIM THAT WE WERE BOTH DEAD! YOU KEPT ME AND MY SISTER AWAY FROM A MAN WHO TRULY WANTED US…ALL BECAUSE HE WAS A CROW! AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT NYXAHLIA!? NOT ONLY THAT, BUT YOU FORCED HER TO LIE TO ME TOO!” She screamed as she punched one of the windows, causing the glass to break and her hand to get cut up. Blood was dripping down onto the stone floor.

“YOU WISH I WAS DIFFERENT!? SO DO I!” Her voice was raw and strained. “YOU THINK I DIDN’T KNOW YOU RESENTED ME!? THAT YOU HATED ME?! THAT IT WAS MY FAULT!?”

Rook grabbed the old, worn chair in the corner room and threw it against the wall. Her mind was a raging storm that seemed to have no end.

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN MY FAULT! IT’S MY FAULT, MY SISTER’S A DEMON! IT’S MY FAULT THE BLOODLANDER’S GOT CAUGHT AND KILLED! IT’S MY FAULT WE GOT DISCHARGED FROM ACTIVE DUTY WITH THE WATCHERS! IT’S MY FAULT THE GODS WERE RELEASED! IT’S MY FAULT HARDING IS GONE! IT’S MY FAULT NEVE WAS TAKEN! IT’S MY FAULT VARRIC IS DEAD!” Rook screams as she falls to her knees, head cradled in her still-bleeding palm. “It’s always been my fault…. I’ve never been enough… I will never be enough….not for her, not for anyone.”  

Emmrich's voice was steady but soft as he spoke from the doorway. "Rook," he began, gently but firm, "you are carrying burdens that were never yours to bear. You’re not a god. You don’t control the strings of fate or every decision others make. We all played our parts, and the blame doesn’t rest solely on your shoulders."

Lowering his voice further, he added, "Your sister’s choices, Myrna and Vorgoth’s, the Watchers, the gods, those were the result of so many things you can’t control. And those we’ve lost… they were taken by forces far beyond any one of us. You are not the sum of every tragedy that has befallen us, Nymphadora. You are more than enough, more than you see right now."

Rook's breathing is shallow as she listens to Emmrich’s voice pierce through the dense fog of her sorrow. “How long have you been standing there….?” she asks weakly, refusing to look up at him. 

“Almost the entire time, darling,” he remarks softly.

Rook let out another painful sob as she punched the floor with her bloody hand. “Gods dammit Emmrich!” she yells, though weaker than before. “You weren’t suppo– I didn’t want you to see me like this….”

Emmrich knelt down beside her, “Rook, there is no version of you I won’t stand beside. You’re allowed to feel this way. To hurt. I’d rather be here, seeing you through it, than you be forced to go through it alone and pretend you’re fine when you are clearly struggling. That’s not how this works, dearest. Not with me. Let me be here, even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.. My only lament is that I hadn’t realized how deeply wounded you were sooner… and for that, I am eternally sorry, my love. ”

Rook, against her better judgment, sat up and looked at Emmrich, her face covered in her own blood due to the open wound on her palm and her broken and bloody knuckles. The blood and tears mix together as they cascade down her cheeks. “Emmrich Volkarin, you are a fool….” she says as a miniscule smile tugs at her lips. 

“Simply a fool in love, Rook,” Emmrich declared as he offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. “For your hand.”

Rook hesitated for a moment but took the handkerchief. “Thank you…Vhenan” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Nym looked down at her hand as she pressed the cloth against the wound with enough pressure to stop the bleeding. “I want to say no…..but knowing you and what you’ve just seen, I don’t think you’ll take no for an answer.” she laughs dryly.

“Well, not forever, but it doesn’t have to be now. You can take time to sort through it if you need. It was… a lot to learn so suddenly.”

“No, I’d rather just get it over with….I’m worried I might do something I regret if I don’t figure this shit out….” she says with a small shrug. “I’m just not sure where to start…I’ve been through a lot of shit in my 28 years of life…”

“Yes, that is certainly true, Rook,” the older man says sympathetically.

“I can’t believe they never told me…about Nyx, I mean..” She starts. “And I can’t even imagine the desperate whims of a mother who knows that her children are destined to die….but to do what she did….” Rook starts to contemplate out loud. 

“The love of a parent is something that can’t be understood until you have it. Just look at the lengths you and I went to for Manfred. She probably believed it was her only option,” Emmrich said softly as he took a seat on the floor next to her.

“Perhaps, but to know that she has been struggling all these years because of me…” Rook says sadly. Her eyes were tired as she looked up at Emmrich, as if asking permission to rest against him.  

Emmrich gently pulled her into his side. “Darling, Bishop’s…condition is not because of you. Even if it was, have you not also struggled and suffered for her sake as well? That’s what family is, sometimes, I suppose.” 

Rook lets out a dry laugh. “That's the understatement of a lifetime. I spent my entire childhood getting into fights on her behalf, We were so out of place in Nevarra….being elves. We were bullied constantly growing up, Nyx especially, what with her being sick all the time…I don’t think I remember a time I didn’t have some sort of bruise on my body when looking in the mirror from all the scraps I used to get into. The amount of time me and my sister were called names like ‘knife-ear’ during grade school, by fellow students is too many to count…and that’s not even considering what happened the years after I turned 13..”

“You and her had different struggles and different traumas. You ended up having completely different childhood experiences, but your struggles are never because of each other. They were for each other. Everything that’s happened to either of you, you’d do again for each other. She’s known this secret for 15 years, Rook. She’s never blamed you for it, I promise.”

“I just wish they wouldn’t have shut me out….the last 20 years of my life I’ve spent fighting…I never got the luxury of being a kid…and I was never given so much as a chanse to be anything other than a fighter, it’s why I got sent away to the academy, and forced to become a Reaper, it’s what got us landed with Varric, it’s what I’ve been doing just to make sure I survive just one more fucking day…” she laments. 

“When this is over, learn how to be something new. It’s never too late.”

“What are you trying to get at, Professor?” she teases playfully, a little bit of light returning to her eyes.

“I’m certainly not trying to get at anything,” he responded with a small laugh, “simply saying that the end of this chapter would be a good time to decide that your past won’t define your future.” 

“As long as you are present in that future, I’ll be content,” she says, leaning up slightly to place a small kiss to his jaw. “And for the record, as far as I’m concerned, the only good thing my Aunt has done for me, excluding taking care of Nyx, was helping Bellara track you down,” she says softly. 

“There is nothing in this world or the next that could keep me away,” Emmrich assured her with a smile. 

“You are far too good for me, Vhenan. I can not imagine what I could have done to deserve you.” Her voice was soft and melodic as she caressed his cheek with her non-damaged hand.

“Nor I you darling. Now, could I possibly convince you to go and wrap your hand? There is definitely dirt in the wound,” Emmrich fussed, eyeing her hand.  

“A little dirt is not going to kill me, Emm,” she laughs softly. “But I suppose if it will make you happy, I’ll allow you to nurse me back to health,” she teases.

“It will bring indescribable joy,” he said, his voice full of sincerity. “And thankfully, we should once again be safe to traverse the Lighthouse.”

“We still need to find a way to help me control these blackouts…” Rook states with concern as she stands up and brushes herself off before turning to help Emmrich up. “The last thing I want is to be put in that position again….almost hurting someone I love….I don’t think I could live with myself if I had to watch myself bring harm to Nyx again…or worse…you.”

“We’ll keep looking. Maybe we consider asking Nyx to speak to Vorgoth as a last resort, perhaps.”

Rook huffed at the thought, but she knew Emmrich was right. She had to put her ego aside, she needed help if she wanted to ensure that she wouldn’t hurt anyone else. “Okay,  we’ll go ask Nyx to talk to him..” 

“Wonderful!” Emmrich says, clasping his hands together happily.

“Hopefully, she will be willing to talk after dinner…” Rook says softly.

“I have a feeling we’ll find her mood much improved by the break,” Emmrich assured her.

—---------

After some much-needed time apart to clear their heads, the team had once again found themselves gathered around the dining table.

Davrin and Bishop were the last to arrive, shortly after Bellara, talking animatedly as they came in. 

“Davrin, that is not possible. How would a person even manage that?”

“No, Bishop, I swear, I saw it with my own eyes. If you get enough momentum, it doesn’t matter how much reach you have.” 

“Stop talking about whatever weird shit that is and hurry up! It’s time to eat!” Taash shouted from where they were lounging in their chair. 

“Okay, good, we’re all here,” Nyx said with a smile, sitting in the empty spot left for her between Lucanis and Bellara. She had come to dinner in Crow leathers and hung her belt and spellblade on the back of her chair as she sat.

Rook held Emmrich’s hand under the table as she tried to focus on her breathing, using the exercise he had taught her. She counted down from five, naming five things she could see, four she could touch, three she could hear, two she could smell, and finally, one she could taste.

“Lucanis, tell your girl that if you got enough speed, you could crack someone's sternum with a butter knife.” Davrin was also dressed for training. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never been so unprepared that I would need to use a butter knife,” Lucanis answered with a shrug. 

“Ha! See!” Nyx stuck her tongue out at Davrin before sitting back in her chair smugly. 

“Just because he doesn’t know doesn’t mean it’s not possible,” Taash interjected. 

“Dinner time! Not butter knife speculation time!” Bellara protested pointedly. 

Emmrich smiles as he takes a sip of his wine. “My compliments Lucanis. Dinner does look exceptional tonight, and I must thank you yet again for making a separate batch due to my dietary restrictions.”

“Thank you, Emmrich. You’re the only person in this ‘family’ with any manners or appreciation, besides Bellara,” Lucanis answered, raising his glass slightly in his direction. 

“Thank you, Lucanis,” Rook says softly. “Emmrich’s right. It looks delicious.”

“I’m just teasing, Rook. I didn’t mean to lump you in with this lot,” Lucanis assured her, tilting this head towards Davrin and gesturing to the weapon Bishop had left haphazardly on the chair. 

“Hey, I have plenty of appr- you know what, never mind,” Bishop started to protest before stopping herself. 

Rook’s leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. She never thought that the sensation of eyes being trained on her would make her so anxious, but she had only been back for less than a week, and it seemed like her team now viewed her as some sort of outlier. Emmrich presses his lips to the top of her head in a tender kiss before whispering, “Are you alright, dearest..?” 

“Yeah…I’ll be okay. I’m just trying to stay calm, but I feel like everyone is staring… anticipating when I’m going to snap…” she whispers back.

“Rosemary, Bergamot, and brimstone. Poor little Rook…Honey, cream, and void…poor, sweet Ingellvars.”

“Bellara, will you switch lunch and dinner prep with me tomorrow? Bishop wants Davrin and I to take a trip to the Necropolis with her tomorrow,” Lucanis directed the question to her, looking around Nyx. 

“Sure! I don’t mind!” Bellara agreed.

“You are taking a trip home? Might I inquire what for?” Emmrich asks politely.

“Jane Tarence is going to look at my hand. It stopped healing,” Nyx answered with a small shrug.

“Ah, young Miss Tarence was a student of mine. You must give her my well wishes while you are there,” he says sincerely.

Nyx smiled, “I will! We trained together briefly before I switched specialties, so I figured I’d let her have a go at it before I bothered anyone else about it.” 

“You okay, Rook?” Davrin asked softly, trying not to bring attention to them. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.” 

Poor Bishop hurts. Honey and fire. Lucanis, hold Bishop’s hand! 

Rook did her best to ignore the grating sound of the demon's comments. She just needed to stay calm and breathe…

“Spite, inside voice,” Nyx scolded the air over Lucanis' shoulder.

“Apologies. He’s in a… mood,” Lucanis said, with a roll of his eyes. 

Rook continued to take deep but discrete breaths as she subconsciously fidgeted with her dinner knife.

Nyx pushed her food around on her plate, moving it so that it appeared more had been eaten than was, lightly tapping her fork on the plate 2, 2, 4, 6 times.”

“What is everyone else up to tomorrow?” she asked, to redirect the attention.

“I think Taash and I were going to go check in with the Veil Jumpers, to make sure they are doing alright, I mean.” Bellara chimes in.

“I can spare Davrin at the necropolis if you think you’ll need more backup,” Nyx offered.

“Oh, um, I guess that's up to you, Davrin..I don’t think we’ll run into anything Taash couldn’t handle on their own, but we’d be happy to have you along..If you want to, that is.” Bellara starts to ramble.

“Yeah, fine by me,” Taash says in their usual blunt tone.

“Bishop is trying to dodge another dose of new joke arsenal,” Davrin joked. “Assan does prefer the forest, though.”

Rook continued to twirl the dull dinner knife in her hands. She was in her own little world right now, the only tether keeping her stable being Emmrich’s fingers intertwined with her own.

Nyx cleared her throat, “I… I think I’m done. I’ll see you all tomorrow, yeah?” She rose quickly from her chair and grabbed her belt and blade as she went. 

Rook snapped back to reality at the sound of her sister excusing herself from the table, her eyes trailing her departure. She then looks at Lucanis briefly before debating if she should go after her. She needed her to talk to Vorgoth, she needed her help.   

Lucanis had watched her go until she disappeared through the door, a deep look of concern on his face before he smoothed his expression and turned back around. “She thinks it’s easier for Rook if she’s not here,” he explained shortly.

Her brain was screaming at her to go after Bishop. But she didn’t, she stayed right where she was. With everyone staring. Why did they have to stare…

Lucanis could see the discomfort on her face and wrapped his mind for something that would take the attention off of her. “Can anyone here even play the piano? Why do we have one?” 

“It would stand to assume it belonged to Solas,” Emmrich said.

“Yes, but most of the other rooms in the Lighthouse adapted to us, why didn’t that one? I’ve only ever heard it once, so why wouldn’t the room change? Just an interesting idea.” 

“When were you messing around with the piano?” Taash asked.

“Just sometime recently. I do walk past it every day,” Lucanis reminded them. 

“I can…” Rook said, her voice barely audible to the others at the table. 

“You should try it. Music is good for the heart. Just maybe wait a few days. Unrelated to anything.” Lucanis started the sentence somber and ended by rushing the words. 

Emmrich looked down at Rook with an amused smile, having caught what she said. “You never told me you knew how to play, darling.”

“You never asked…Besides, I said I could play, not that I was good at it…it was something I picked up on from one of the older girls I knew in Nevarra city when I was a kid..”

“That’s why you have to play 20 questions when you get a girlfriend, Emmrich, so you know if she plays the piano,” Davrin informed him, sagely. 

“Well, we do know each other's favorite colors. His is Lilac,” she smiles softly, knowing it was partly because of the color of her eyes.

“Yes, and though I don’t agree with it being classified as a color, Rook’s is white.”

“White is a color!” Lucanis argued immediately, “If I said ‘What color is Nyx’s hair?’ you would say ‘white’, would you not?” 

“I mean, I can kind of see where Emmrich is coming from, and I would technically call Nyx’s hair silver, not white..” Bellara chimed in.

“Thank you, Bellara,” Emmrich says with a satisfied smile.

“No, no, no, her eyes are silver, her hair is white. They’re very differ-” Lucanis stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. White is a color,” he laughed. 

“Agree to disagree,” Emmrich says with a light laugh.

“I’m feeling very single right now. Bellara, what is your favorite color?” Davrin asked, humor in his tone. 

Bellara laughs. “Teal, what about you?”

“Grey Warden Blue, obviously,” Davrin joked.

Rook laughed softly.

The door opened, and Nyx reentered the room. She was not in armor anymore, and her hair was damp. 

“How come no one asked Taash their favorite color? Taash, what is your favorite color?” She asked jovially as she returned to her seat, giving Lucanis a small nod when he laid his hand on her arm as she sat. 

“Yellow.”

“Really? You do not seem like a ‘yellow is my favorite color’ kind of person.” Davrin snorts.

“Well, my favorite dragon, the Fereldan Frostback, has yellow scales. So I like yellow.”

“I think Rook wins most controversial favorite color of the night,” Bishop joked. “Yellow is a good one.”  

Rook smiled slightly as she took a sip from her glass.

“Well, wait, what if Lucanis’s favorite color is pink or something? Lucanis, what is your favorite color?” Davrin inquired. 

“Red! Boring, right?!” Nyx joked, leaning her chair back on two legs. 

“Isn’t it a bit on the nose for an assassin’s favorite color to be red?” Davrin asked.

“No, black would be on the nose,” Lucanis defended himself, “red, like wine.”

“Or blood...” Rook chimed in.

“I’m being attacked. Bishop, do something,” Lucanis insisted, raising a hand to his chest. 

“Well, mine is purple, so we can be on the nose together,” Bishop comforted him by patting his arm. 

Bellara yawned softly, her eyes heavy from lack of sleep. “I think I’m going to turn in you guys.”

“Good night, Bellara!” Bishop said with a smile, “Don’t get distracted and stay up 5 more hours.” 

Taash laughed as they also stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna hit the hay too. Bellara wants us to leave as soon as possible tomorrow.”

“Good night, Taash,” Lucanis chimed, inclining his head in their direction. 

Davrin laughed as he tilted his mug back to chug what was left. Slamming it back down on the table once empty. “Well, as entertaining as this has been, I need to go feed Assan still, so I will see you two tomorrow,” he said to Nyx and Lucanis across the table. “Rook, Emmrich, have a good night.”

“And to you, Davrin,” Emmrich says with a smile. 

“Us, too, then I guess. Goodnight, you two,” Lucanis said, beginning to stand and reach his hand out for Bishop. 

“Actually, if you two could please wait but a moment, Nymphadora and I had a rather pressing favor to ask of you both,” Emmrich said, his voice turning serious.

“Of course, what is it?” Nyx asked, her face instantly somber. 

Emmrich looks at Rook as if to ask if she wanted him to inquire or if she wanted to do it herself. Rook takes a deep breath, steeling her nerves, and looks her sister in the eyes.

“We had to wait until everyone else left…cause you know…” she trailed off. 

“To avoid the boiling blood issue? It’s about that, then?” Bishop asked, eyebrow raised.

“More or less…I need you to talk to…Vorgoth…for me…” Rook said, tripping over her words.

“Okay, consider it done. We’re going in person anyway, so it’s not like he can keep ignoring my letters if I show up. Just to make sure, it’s about what I think it is, right? Nothing I don’t know?” Bishop clarified. 

“We just wish to inquire if he may know of something that could help Nym with the blackouts.” Emmrich reassures.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll ask tomorrow.”

“Thank you…” Rook says softly.

“Of course, Rook, anything for you,” Bishop said with a small smile. 

“It truly is appreciated, Nyxahlia,” Emmrich says sincerely.

—-----------

[starstckrs]

HEY, i think i just saw KINERET 'KENNY' VITELLI walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the TWENTY-THREE YEAR OLD is working as an CASHIER AT BLOCKBUSTER and lives in MANOR SUITES. given they are MELLOW but SLOTHFUL, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that THEY SELL THEIR PRESCRIPTION MEDICATION FOR CHEAP THRILLS and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to IN THE GARAGE BY WEEZER and you’ll know why they’re called THE MALINGERING SLOTH.  ☾ .⭒˚ millie bobby brown. genderfae + she/her. asexual grayromantic + sagittarius.

╰ * STATS. ╰ *PINTEREST. ╰ * PLAYLIST.

TW: kidnapping, neglect

DECEMBER 11TH, 1972: kineret vitelli is born, imperfectly perfect, to a dazed and confused, prescription drug-addled mother and a closed fist for a father. she is determined to be deaf a few weeks later, and she doesn't know it yet, but she'll be the brightest star in the family with the dimmest light behind her eyes.

JANUARY 3RD, 1974: her mother is growing restless in the confines of this castle kineret's family dwells within; it doesn't take long before she scoops her only child into her arms and escapes. after a weekend spent bouncing between different motels, kineret is found in the back of a stolen car in a gas station parking lot. she's brought home and doesn't see her mother again for a long time.

APRIL 29TH, 1976: kineret is one of the thousand children in the u.s. that receive a cochlear implant, paid in full by her father in hopes of providing her some normality in life.

SEPTEMBER 9TH, 1977: her first day of school. while the other kids play, she reads in the corner alongside her interpreter, not sure why all the letters are scrambled in her eyes. when she talks to her nannies about it, they seem to be the only ones concerned. her father can't find anything wrong with her - nothing real, at least.

JUNE 17TH, 1980: it's become clear, in kineret's nearly eight years of life, that she's different. she's slower than the rest of her class at reading and writing but still contains the multitudes of energy of a neurotypical kid. she's placed in classes that focus on where she fails most, and although they're meant to help her, she can't resist feeling so other because of it. this will not be the last time. in fact, it is the very beginning.

MAY 22ND, 1984: kineret receives an atari for obtaining a report card full of b's and c's, plus an a in algebra. this changes her life forever.

OCTOBER 29TH, 1987: it's decided by her family that she'll be sent to boarding school, hoping to instill more discipline in her life. it's a sorrowful goodbye between herself and her father, and she doesn't fully understand why it's happening, only that it's a necessary evil. the worst part? she can't even take her atari with her.

JULY 2ND, 1989: school hasn't gone very well. kineret is routinely bullied for her otherness that makes her an easy target, enough to where it actually starts to effect her self-image. it comes to a point where she begins purposefully failing all her classes, no matter what punishment comes from it, just so she can see a glimmer of hope that her father will come and save her. he never does.

FEBRUARY 15TH, 1991: three months before graduation, kineret sees her mother again. their reunion is short lived, but kineret can feel her heart expand with every word her mother utters: i have been searching for you everyday, i would have never done this to you, you are the sweetest girl - my sweetest girl - you belong with me. before kineret can climb into the backseat of her mother's car, her instructors start yanking her back, and it's in this instance that kineret realizes she is alone in the world.

JANUARY 3RD, 1994: home doesn't feel the same as it used to. despite being graduated for nearly three years, kineret isn't forced into higher education. as a half-assed apology for the way she was treated as a child and teenager, she's allowed to do whatever the fuck she wants - within reason. which, it turns out, just ends up being a script for adhd, playing video games, and turning in for shifts at the video store.

APRIL 2ND, 1996: kineret receives a phone call. on the other end, she hears her mother's static voice. i need your help. just a couple hundred. your father has that much, doesn't he? she hangs up, then turns her attention back to donkey kong country. business as usual.

👽 tidbits !!

main color is lime green

silly goose personified

is diagnosed with adhd but never did get that dyslexia diagnosis; she's slowly developed her reading skills on her own with time, but she still struggles and prefers to stick to comics rather than novels

sells her leftover adderall so she can feel somewhat independent without actually being independent. kind of terrified of the real world and much prefers the indoors

holy trinity: video games, legos, and astronomy ( actually was kind of good at math in school, enough to where she considered pursuing something in mathematics or science until deciding she wasn't that interested in solving problems her whole life. )

favorite video game at the moment is pokemon red & blue

prefers asl but will yap your ear off if she's passionate about whatever's being spoken about