#writing with amina

[lenavaz]

WHO: Elena & @aminarocks

WHERE: Lavender Lane, countryside

WHEN: Earth Week (April, 2025)

It felt a little bit like taking a class trip, but much more fun. Buckling into the car, driving off with Amina from Universal Rocks to Lavender Lane, the idea in mind that they would listen in and learn from one of the Butterfly Garden work shops, then take that knowledge back with them to start preparing. "I feel like such a happy little earth nerd," Lena admitted on a laugh as she stepped out of the car and started down the gravel walkway of the nursery, "it helps that there's a little bit of sunshine today!"

[narilily]

WHO: Nari & @aminarocks

WHERE: Nari's home, countryside

WHEN: Snow Storm (March, 2025)

While Nari wasn't ridiculous when it came to planning ahead, she wasn't quite a slouch, either. Saturday had been spent hitting up the markets, buying some food and drinks that she could snack on during the storm, as well as getting a few jugs of gasoline for her generator. She didn't panic, didn't over spend, but it was later that night, putting everything away, when she thought of Amina, texted her friend, and made a plan. And as the two made themselves cozy in the living room, hot cups of tea on the coffee table, curtains open to watch the snow, Nari knew it had been a good choice. "It's really coming down out there, isn't it?"

[owenryder]

WHO: Ryder & @aminarocks

WHERE: Cityview Park, downtown

WHEN: Earth Week (April, 2024)

"... I'm not even going to tell you how long it's been since I was on a bike," Ryder gruffed, making himself comfortable on the bike that he had rented for the day. Or, well, trying to. It was a bike. He was pretty sure that comfort was not a word that anyone used to describe riding a bike. "Would you believe me if I said that I didn't learn until I was a teenager? And no, my other dad didn't teach me."

[jaceeverett]

WHO: Jace & @aminarocks

WHERE: Pine Grove Gardens, countryside

WHEN: Royal Gala (January 20, 2024)

Although Jason wasn't sure he had ever actually met Amina, at least in the face-to-face, holding a full conversation kind of way, he had spent time in their shop, made a couple of purchases here and there, either for gifts or for personal use, a few odd things here and there for the camper. He approached them with a polite, friendly smile, lifting his hand in greeting as he stopped at their side. "So, they tell me that you're the other van dweller in town."

[rafaelcb]

WHO: Rafael & @aminarocks

WHERE: Mack's, after the Railway 5K

WHEN: November 18, 2023

"I don't know about you, but I'm thinking I might need to skip the wings and go straight for the whiskey," Rafael laughed as he dropped into a seat at the same table as Amina, finishing off his bottle of water and letting out a satisfied breath. But he did this, he ran, he had handled it like a champion. As had they, though, which he verbalized with a smile. "You were quite the machine on that course."

[joshlane]

"It's the 'probably' in that statement that is really inciting a lot of confidence right now, you know," he turned to glare at Amina, shooting them a look that said that the conversation wasn't finished. But he was handling it quite well for his first go 'round, truth be told. Nothing caught on fire, he didn't burn himself… and then he had a partner in crime as they were handed their own rod, and he grinned over at them. "Looking at you go! That's the nicest lightbulb that I have ever seen!"

"You probably won't burn the whole faire down," Amina said, knowing full well that actually wasn't reassuring. "You got this, Josh," they mouthed, watching him do the demo- only it was moments later that they were given their own tool to spin over a different flame, working on making some sort of bulbous shape.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐸𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒾𝒹:

Used to preserve deceased individuals, sometimes only until the funeral, other times indefinitely.

(for @emmg who was thirsty for Emmrich porn avec whiskey dick and I am nothing if not accommodating)

Under the cut and on ao3

Hours had passed since they first set foot in the high-class cocktail lounge tucked behind a secret entrance down an unsuspecting alleyway in Minrathous.

That should have been his first clue that this night was going to end up wildly out of hand. This was no humble tavern with a starving bard strumming their lute in the corner, singing about some woman named Sera while a harried barmaid slung pints of warm ale and unidentified meat to patrons, warding off the occasional pinch to her rear with quick fingers that told just how long she’d been tending bar in the city.

No, instead of a bard, there was a somber, balding man at a harpsichord in the corner, dispensing sophisticated chamber music, and there was no barmaid in sight: only a portly middle-aged Orlesian man who introduced himself to Emmrich and Amina as ‘Guillaume’ and walked with a labored gait that Emmrich suspected immediately to be caused by an active and rather nasty flare-up of gout.

There were no windows in this cocktail lounge, given its exclusive and ‘well-hidden’ existence, and the only light sources were small oil lanterns placed on each of the small round white-linened tables. 

A password. They had needed a password to be admitted into this place. 

While admittedly some part of him felt thrilled at the cloak-and-dagger charm and implication that attending this venue was somehow rebellious in nature, he did think it a bit ostentatious, even for his tastes, but Neve had suggested the lounge, going so far as admitting that it claimed the spot at the top of the list of venues to take dates she was really interested in.

Emmrich didn’t ask where she ended up taking the ones she wasn’t as optimistic about.

Guillaume hobbled over to their table and folded his white-gloved hands before inquiring if the monsieur and mademoiselle would like another beverage. They probably should have stopped two or three rounds earlier, truth be told, but conversation flowed so naturally - so easily - between them, and they simply never ran out of things to talk about.

Emmrich watched Amina lift the little leather-bound menu and squint in the dim light as she attempted to discern the feathery cursive on its pages. A thick strand of her bone-straight black hair slipped over her shoulder as she leaned forward, humming thoughtfully and tugging up the neckline of her plunging burgundy top as if the motion would do anything to protect her modesty. They were both more than a few drinks in, and she wasn’t a heavy drinker to begin with, so about an hour earlier when she’d beckoned him close over the table and whispered in his ear that she wanted him to cum in her mouth later, he knew she was properly in her cups.

He decided he was too as he tilted the empty crystal glass in his hand, watching the large cube of ice within drift over the bottom until it met the side. He’d had what… five or six whiskey cocktails and that one with the gin, vermouth, and olives? Spaced over the three or so hours they’d been here, there was no denying the light around the lanterns had developed a misty glow and he felt very relaxed… and increasingly distracted by the curve of her breasts peeking over the top that was doing its very best to conceal them. 

“I’ll try the Sazerac, please,” she primly closed the menu and held it out to Emmrich, who accepted it from her, arching a brow discreetly in her direction when he felt the pointed toe of her nugskin heel travelling sensually up the inside of his leg under the table, staring at him with kohl rimmed eyes and drawing her lower lip through her teeth like she was a housecat ready to pounce on a fat songbird - him. 

She knew what those naughty little shoes did to him, the minx. 

“One more of these, if you’d be so kind,” he lifted the empty glass and tried his best to sound cordial and unassuming as Amina’s foot meandered up his thigh and the sole of her shoe came to rest on his crotch, which enthusiastically responded to her attention. “And we’ll settle up with you as well, please: we’ve another engagement this evening we must be off to.” He grabbed Amina’s ankle to halt her taunting movements against him, and she shot him a coquettish smile over the rim of her tinted coupé glass before tipping it back and draining the remnants of the cocktail - some concoction of gin, wildflower wine, elderflower, and bitters, among other things… he’d had a sip: it tasted floral and lively like a late spring breeze dancing down a winding country road on a clear day.

Guillaume tipped his head and limped away, returning a few minutes later with the cocktails and a handwritten bill tucked into a little leather folder which he placed in front of Emmrich without hesitation after setting down the drinks. 

As soon as Guillaume was far enough away, Amina reached over the table for the folder, but Emmrich snatched it away, holding it out of her reach.

“This doesn’t concern you, darling.” 

Her outstretched hand did not move. “Don’t be ridiculous, Emmrich. This is hardly my first time at a place like this - I know this isn’t a cheap night.” How lovely she looked with that delicate rush of colour over her cheeks and nose.

Emmrich thumbed the folder open and skimmed over the bill, his expression stoic. “No darling, but I knew before we started seeing each other formally that you’re a woman of expensive tastes.” 

Expensive tastes to the tune of precisely two-hundred-forty-seven gulder… and an appropriate gratuity on top of that. He withdrew his purse from the inside of his waistcoat to start counting out coin. 

Amina knocked back half her Sazerac in one go and said confidentially, hiding the side of her face with her glass so no one but him could see her mouth, “You’re right about that, but there is something I know that you don’t, Professor Volkarin.” 

“What might that be, Ms. Ingellvar?”

She leaned close - almost close enough to taste the booze on her breath. 

“I’m not wearing any underthings.” 

His cock twitched and he felt the colour in his cheeks deepen further at the thought of her warm, wet cunt separated from him by only the expanse of table linen and expectations of public decency. It wasn’t that he needed to drink to feel attracted to her - no, that came as effortlessly to him as breathing - but in the haze of perhaps one or two too many fancy cocktails, his mind was consumed by thoughts of ravishing her for the remainder of the night and well into the early morning if they could get away with it. 

“What a charming surprise.” He counted out payment, set it on the table, swallowed a good deal of his drink, the burn of it doing little to quell the urgent desire to bend her over the table and bury himself in her then and there. “Finish your drink, darling, and let’s get you home, shall we?”

She was already tugging at buttons and closures by the time they tumbled through the eluvian into the Lighthouse, giggling feverishly and twining around him like an affectionate cat. Her shoes were abandoned in the eluvian room, and her shirt was doffed in a careless heap on the floor at the top of the stairs to the library.

“Remember when I sucked you off by the bookshelf and you were soooo worried that someone was going to catch us?” She grabbed his hand and put it over her bare breast as she meandered unsteadily backwards towards the stairs to their respective rooms.

Filling his hand with the warm weight of her flesh and tugging at her nipple gently, he hushed her inebriated titter with his mouth over hers, knowing full well that he was far too drunk to be wandering around attached to someone at the mouth with his eyes closed, but not able to find it within himself to behave responsibly for a change. 

“Davrin very nearly did: you’re a bad influence, Ms. Ingellvar,” he purred, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and catching it with his teeth. She moaned into the slight hurt and threw her arms around his shoulders, then her legs, trusting him to catch her - which of course he did. He could drink the city of Minrathous dry and he’d never drop her. Not her. Not precious, beautiful, lovely, entrancing Amina…

He carried her all the way down to his bedroom, admittedly a little unsteady on his feet and taking extra care as he descended the stairs from the laboratory into the well-appointed cavern where he slept and kept his personal effects. 

Placing her gently on the bed, he did away with his boots and joined her, crawling atop her and devouring her with another hungry kiss as he slipped his hand up her thigh, past the bunched up hem of her skirt until his fingers met with the dripping heat between her legs. 

“I’m beginning to think you deeply begrudge smallclothes, darling. It seems you’re completely averse to wearing them unless absolutely necessary…” He circled her clit with his thumb almost tauntingly before slipping two fingers inside her, working them slowly, stretching her, slickness slowly travelling down his palm and the back of his hand.

Arching against his touch, Amina groaned. “I never did have much patience for pointless things.” 

She palmed him through his pants, humming approvingly when she found him hard and straining against the material. “I wanna kiss it,” she declared, her voice semi-slurred, looking up at him with glassy eyes. 

“You want to kiss it,” he corrected smarmily.

She poked him in the side, hitting a spot she knew was ticklish and making him flinch, but his fingers remained within her. “This is not… that’s not how one successfully goes about getting their dick sucked.” Despite the admonishment, her fingers worked at the closures of his trousers, and despite the turgid gracelessness of her motions, she managed to free him.

Leaving the comforting warmth between her legs, he fell to the bed, still completely clothed, and Amina slinked downwards, bending her legs at the knee behind her and crossing her feet at the ankles as she rested on her belly so he could enjoy the sight of her petite little soles and well cared for toes while she sucked him off because she knew he enjoyed that. 

How lucky he was. How unexpectedly fortunate to find himself on this harrowing but exhilarating adventure of a lifetime to begin with, and then to find companionship as well? True, genuine connection with another person that he hadn’t felt in years - he certainly hadn’t responded to that letter from Bellara requesting a meeting operating under the assumption he would find himself entangled with someone as wonderful as Amina... 

There was little refinement to her approach of pleasuring him - no slow, sensuous teasing with that tongue of hers, not tonight, oh no: her nose was already already buried in his pubic hair, and the tip of his cock was residing somewhere in the neighbourhood of her tonsils. Uninhibited by the numerous cocktails she’d downed, she was going down on him like he was her last meal and it sent his mind reeling to witness her so liberated and shameless in her movements and actions.

Her eyes met his and she let his cock slide from her lips, a fat rope of saliva still tethering him to her, and the naughty thing actually winked at him before a heavy bead of drool dangled from her open mouth and spread over him, the heat and depravity of it forcing the air from his lungs. 

Working the slick all over him with her callused hand, he watched her and something in his brain stopped working altogether when she lowered her head and enveloped him again, her sage green eyes locked on his the entire time.

Messy, sloppy, unseemly. Every memory of a polite greeting and an understanding smile held in sharp relief against the undisciplined young woman currently slobbering on his dick.

It was exceptionally attractive.

But then something was off. The steady thrum of his pulse beating hard through his nethers vanished with worrying haste.

Oh no… 

No-no-no-no… 

No?

He dared a glance at her and could tell in the instant before his eyes snapped shut from sheer embarrassment that she had indeed realized that something had changed as well. Specifically his cock, and the firmness of it - it was rapidly softening in her mouth… practically deflating in her hand, the blood fleeing from it deciding to circulate elsewhere at the worst possible moment. 

You loser, Volkarin!

He could practically hear Johanna’s snide tone in his mind. Why he was hearing her voice in his internal monologue at this exact moment in time was a mystery to him, but that didn’t change the fact that he heard it like she was kneeling on the bed next to him, berating him directly. 

Amina’s lips twitched upwards in a helplessly sympathetic expression that for the first time in his life had him considering that embracing death might not be so terrible as she continued to do her best to resuscitate his wilting manhood. 

A few drinks and your boudoir performance turns into a mummer’s farce! She’ll come to regret crawling into bed with your feeble bony carcass if this is the best you can do! Poor thing… her, to be clear - not you. I knew you were a lightweight, but this is pathetic!

Too much time had passed with neither of them saying anything - it was becoming increasingly awkward as moments ticked by and his traitorous loins continued to play shy. 

One of them had to say something. 

It had to be him. 

“D-darling–” he stammered uselessly.

Amina sat back, tucking her legs beneath her, his limp cock flopping against his trousers with all the sprightliness of a dead herring. She rubbed her palms on her thighs and blinked rapidly. “It’s… it’s fine!” The put-on shrillness of her voice told him that it very much was not fine. “If it wasn’t doing it for you, you could have just said so.” Her lip trembled and she looked at the pillow above his head instead of him. 

Fade take him: she thought he wasn’t enjoying himself - that she was the reason for his… impotence. 

“No, no, no, dearest - that’s not true at all!” He scrambled for words and her wrists so he could pull her close and try to at least undo some of the damage that had been done, knowing from the redness of her eyes and the knit of her brow that it was far too late: she resisted his gentle tug and stayed sitting on her knees between his legs. 

Of course they were both drunk, and where he found himself unable to perform, she found herself weepy. 

Oh dear.

What a mess he had made of an otherwise lovely evening…

“You must believe me that this isn’t your fault, darling. I… I’ve had too much to drink, I’m afraid, and, and this is tremendously embarrassing - I… this doesn’t happen often, really, I swear, and I want nothing more than to make love to you, it’s just… I just…” his face felt redder than it had all night and the amount of liquor he consumed had nothing to do with it. 

Amina hiccuped wretchedly and finally let him pull her down against him so he could wrap his arms around her and stroke her beautiful night-dark hair. 

“Let me make it up to you?” He murmured drunkenly, softly tracing the shape of her ear with a finger. “Just because I’m not up for it - much to my own chagrin, I must emphasize - doesn’t mean you need to go to bed unsatisfied, hmmm?”

“Please Emmrich, it’s not any fun if you’re doing it out of pity,” she groused into his shoulder, her dissatisfaction with his proposed arrangement apparent. 

What was he to do? He hadn’t run into this particular difficulty with a partner in so long that his memory strained to recall how he’d handled it back then. It seemed cold and uncouth to shrug his shoulders and call it a night, leaving her unfulfilled, but there was little chance of him finding arousal again in this state… not for a few hours at least.

“We… we could try again in a while, perhaps?” He offered weakly, hating himself, hating his uncooperative anatomy, and hating the very existence of the spirit known as whiskey. It would be a miracle if she wanted anything to do with him after this…

Amina heaved a tormented sigh, still not lifting her head from the space between his neck and his shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things for me if you don’t want to. It just makes everything… weird.”

He shifted his shoulder, lifting her face from him and then cupping her cheek, forcing her gaze to his. “I do want to though, darling, don’t you understand?” Her fingers found his wrist, warming skin and gold under her searing touch. “I am consumed by thoughts of you from the moment sleep leaves me in the morning to the very moment dreams find me at night, and those dreams have been conquered by you too.”

His other hand skimmed up her thigh, back underneath her skirt, finding her heat again. She shuddered against his touch, still wet and engorged, and he bitterly wished his cock could replace his fingers. 

Would it be like this after he achieved lichdom? Certainly there would be… changes to their intimate dynamic, but would it be fraught with this same awkward tension that currently lingered unpleasantly somewhere between resentment and pity? 

He considered this previously unconsidered eventuality as he laid her down on the sheets and spread her open, filling his nose with the scent of her - feminine and lively: a natural blend of salt and sweetness and sweat that made his mouth water reflexively.

That scent would no longer exist for him after lichdom. Not without olfactory receptors lining the tissue of his nasal cavity. It was indeed difficult to the sense being replaced with something better, but being able to smell was vital to being able to taste, and as he lapped at her deeply, tonguing her hot flesh as one would indulge in a ripe, messy summer peach, something twisted in his chest, compounding the pre-existing misery caused by his inability to perform.

One hand gripped the top of her muscular thigh, the other stretched over her lower belly, covering it almost entirely, hovering over her womb that was hidden under a network of muscle and sinew.

He would no longer be able to taste her, nor would he be able to please her in this way either. 

Never again would he feel her warm juices dripping into his mouth and rolling down his cheeks, saturating the hair above his lip and dwelling there so that he would catch scintillating traces of her in the hours afterwards, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the memory of her underneath him, chanting his name as he brought her over the edge.

He undid her with ease despite his inebriated state, knowing exactly where and when to lick, how hard, and when to introduce his fingers again, working them inside of her in tandem with his tongue against her clit. 

Touch would still be an option, he supposed, crooking his fingers towards himself and finding the rough, textured spot within her that immediately made her hips buck and her thighs clench against his head. She moaned his name and he placed a gentle sucking kiss on her clit, then told her she was a good girl before returning to his ministrations - and his ruminations.

Would she even desire that, though? Not being able to jointly enjoy each other intimately tonight clearly hadn’t sat well with her, so what were the chances that she would be satisfied - let alone eager - to find release by way of skeletal - albeit loving - hands, and whatever metaphysically similar connection he might unlock?

Would she even want him to touch her anymore once his flesh was shucked away eternally, replaced by linen wrappings and the illusion of a glamour that catered only to the sense of sight?

Her knees pressed against the sides of his skull so hard he thought she might crush it, but he did nothing to remove them or attempt to ease her grip.

How would he even kiss her without lips? Embrace her? Comfort her with his body that was rigid and hard and hollow and cold? 

How could he be anything for her in that form?

… What if she decided she wanted a child?

He liked to think that she would see past it - that her true feelings and affection for him would outweigh her apprehension and need for physical connection - that lichdom and all that came with it outweighed the confines of mortal flesh. But as Amina’s fingers curled in his hair and she gripped him hard as she spent herself, her sweet release gushing down his throat, he knew deep down that the chances of her seeing it that way was about as likely as his cock coming back to life tonight. 

Even still, he couldn’t find it within himself to think her shallow or unfair for it: while he was pleased at the sight of her panting and gasping for breath from his place between her legs, he missed at least having the option to incorporate his own anatomy into their activities, and it was just natural fact that having had a cock for the entirety of his life up until this point, the prospect of having to part with it wasn’t at the top of the list of things he looked forward to experiencing when he finally attempted lichdom.

He should be above such things. He should be beyond such attachments if he was truly ready for the gift of immortality.

He finished licking up every drop of her from her perfect sex, then tucked her in, then tucked himself in alongside her. He smoothed her hair as she nuzzled into him, exhausted and blissed-out as he knew she would be. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he told her.

“Don’t be,” she mumbled sleepily, already dozing off, uncaring that they were both at least partially clothed. 

He wanted to do as she said, but as he watched her fall asleep in his arms he couldn’t.

Couldn’t let go of the sickly, creeping feeling that he was going to lose her when all was said and done, and this was only a glimpse of a not-too-distant future. 

The next morning, despite the vicious hangover that was ravaging the insides of his eye sockets and his stomach, he dragged an equally hungover Amina to the market in Treviso and wouldn’t let her leave until he bought her three new pairs of shoes, an expensive new perfume to replace the passable but cheap label she normally wore, and a tasteful but very authentic gold anklet with half a dozen flawless sapphires along the chain. 

It was obvious to both of them what he was doing: making up for his dysfunction the night before. 

But it was more than that for Emmrich. This wasn’t just an apology - it was a promise: I might not be able to please you in the ways that you deserve and desire, but you will never feel unloved. You will never want for anything. 

That’s enough, isn’t it?

I’m enough?

He remained unconvinced.

[soracities]

Amina Cain, interview with Believer Mag [ID'd]

[deadgodjess]

just started "The Adventure of Amina al-Sirafi" by Shannon Chakraborty and I am immediately enraptured by this pirate milf. I am having the age-old struggle of "do I want to be her or be taken by her? Yes? Yes."

[lenavaz]

WHO: Lena & @aminarocks

WHERE: Universal Rocks, Holiday Market

WHEN: December, 2024

"Do you think there's been a scientific study about how many rubies and emeralds sell in December?" Lena asked as she turned a bracelet over in her fingers, taking advantage of a brief slow period to do a little tidying around one of the displays that they had set up for the week. "You know, just because they're popular Christmas colors?"

[narilily]

"That makes sense. I think if I ever left Merrock, it would be for similar reasons. Mom and dad need me or something happens back in Korea with another family member. Otherwise, I'm pretty happy here," she wasn't sure that she ever saw a reason to leave Maine, not now that she had built her entire life there. "Basically," she looked over at them with a grin. "But they're so much fun. I like dogs and all, but cats just have such a fun variety of personalities. And, you know, they have a litter box, so I don't have to get up at all hours to let them out."

"Permanently? I'm not really sure. I liked moving around." Amina drew their legs up on the couch, toeing off their slippers before doing so. "I mean, home home, eventually. Or if one of my parents need me." That wasn't a very fun answer, but it was true. "Or it's just being a cat, I hear they are like this, all on their own. Whether it's being a diva or a madman, that's just in the nature of the creatures and part of what makes them so damn endearing anyway."

[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶��𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually… effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[owenryder]

"Sad, isn't it?" he laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back a bit on the bike, making sure to keep one hand on the handle bars -- wasn't going to make that mistake -- and looked over at them. "Just promise me if everyone ever does decide to eat the rich, you start with me and get it over with as soon as possible." At least he wouldn't have to witness the whole debacle. Or, he supposed, he could go broke before then. Maybe that was a more likely option. "Yeah, are we talking diamonds, or…?"

"It's a bit too true, though." They grimaced at the thought. Rich people really did ruin just about everything. "Sure, as long as you're okay with the rocks being expensive as hell," they looked back with a laugh at him. "Because I've got some good and expensive ones waiting for you."

[a-weirdo-works]

@pale-opal @antfed-blog @imafraidofdogs @bruggle Chapter ???: Tree.

“Dammit! We just lost one of our most successful guards!” Maria screamed.

“Relax, honey pie. We have more powerful guards where that came from. Why do you think we’re the most successful Maverick prison in the world?” Rudy assured her, a hand on her hip. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right, baby.” She retorted. 

She sipped her coffee, then set it down. 

She turned down the microphone on her headset. 

“Everybody, find any remaining pirate members!”. 

A human at the camera monitors spoke. 

“Ma’am, I think we just saw X. And two other members. Let me have Alex analyze them.” He spoke. 

“Okay. So, these other members are named Harry and Amina respectively. Surprisingly, Amina is a human member of the Rose Thorns.” Said Alex. 

“Ah, so they’re indoctrinating our kind now, eh? Well,”; Maria giggled. “Let’s see how the authorities take to her joining these rebels. In the meantime, we’ll have one of our outdoor guards take care of them.”. 

She ended the call. 

She put her arm around her husband. 

“Let’s watch these hellions entire retirement. Doesn’t that sound lovely~?” Maria asked him. 

“Oh it does,”; he lifted her chin, looking into her dark brown eyes. “baby.”. 

She pressed another button. 

“We have a job for you, our gardener.” Maria spoke. 

“Yes, ma’am?”.   

X, Harry and Amina hid in the bushes. 

“Alright. They’re definitely mad at us for killing one of their guards…we might be in more trouble now.” Harry pondered.

“Don’t worry. We can get through this.”Amina breathed.

“Amina, you’re a human.” X reminded her. 

“Ah, but that’s the thing. That gives me an idea of sorts, yes. Monarch said they were told to be subservient to humans. Now imagine Bonsai’s rep if he, say, got a scratch on me.” Amina said. 

X and Harry got where she was coming from; they both nodded. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” X sighed, triggering the new weapon card; his armor turned into a gray and white pallete. 

He pressed a button on his helmet.

“Electric Sheep, ask Axolotl to give me a rundown on my new ability.” He spoke. 

“Alright. Blade, you’re on.” She responded. 

“Thanks, Electric. Okay! So, Metal Canine had magnetic abilities. He could lift large pieces of metal. Jules gave me some footage of how he weaponized these.” The Axolotl Reploid spoke. 

“Got it! Thanks.”. 

A beep signaled the end of the call. 

They crept through the florae. Bushes and leaves rustled around them as they moved as quietly as possible. 

They felt uneasy. 

Harry looked up; he could’ve sworn he saw one of the branches move. 

All they had to do was get to the back entrance. 

That was it. 

“Ah!”; Harry and Amina jumped as they saw X tumble in front of them. 

“X!” Amina exclaimed. 

“X, sir, are you-woah!”. 

Harry was interrupted as something arose from the ground like a tendril. 

It wrapped around him. 

“Hello, Bonsai.” Amina growled. 

A brown and green Reploid jumped down. 

His head was down, so she could only see the emerald leaves in place of hair. 

He rose his head to look at her. 

“I am sorry, ma’am. But I must ask you to leave the premises.”. He spoke calmly; his mouth had a faceplate similar to that of samurai armor. Well, most of his armor looked like it took inspiration from that. 

“Says who?” Amina exclaimed; she whipped out her rapier. 

X and Harry were held up above her; she’d be alone in fighting him. But if she could just cut them down-. 

“Hyah!” She exclaimed, but more bonsai rose, trapping her. 

“I am sorry, ma’am. Security will escort you as it isn’t my duty to do so.”. 

“Oh, how polite.” She responded, before saying with venom: “you sound like a pushover.”. 

X was struggling. He didn’t know what to do. 

Then he remembered-. 

“Metal Canine had magnetic abilities. He could lift large pieces of metal.”. 

He just needed to find something to use as a blade, or at least something to hit Tangle Bonsai from afar. 

Amina turned away from him as he signaled for security, cutting away at the bonsai branches, and was about to hit Tangle Bonsai with her sword. 

She was a fast mover, so it was daunting to attempt and restrain her. 

He had to summon multiple just to shield himself from her blade. 

He kept thinking-. 

Wait…

He focused. Hard. 

He tried moving the kusazuri. 

And Tangle looked down. 

He then had an idea. 

He kept focusing. 

Tangle couldn’t move; his armor had been rendered immobile, trapping his body within its confines. 

With this, Amina put her sword against his neck. 

“Now put down the branches and let us talk!”. X yelled. 

“No! I must follow orders!” Bonsai exclaimed back. 

“No! We just wanted our members back! We sent them here as an experiment!” X explained. 

“I have no choice.”. 

X glared at him. 

“Are you willing to die for that, fataa alshajara?” Amina asked softly. 

“No. No! I-I must-“. 

“We just want to help you! We’ve heard of what you were told!”. Harry called out. 

“We were told nothing of ill will! Now be quiet, you criminal! I can see you’ve brainwashed the mighty X, as well as the human girl before me-“. 

“Amina, no!” X screamed, before she could behead the incapacitated Reploid in front of her. 

Amina sighed, and walked to X and Harry, and began to cut their thin, wooden binds. 

X was careful to keep his focus…

Which was kind of hard to do when he had fallen to the dirt. 

Tangle rose his hands, and more bonsai branches formed a cage around them. 

Harry grabbed his gun and began to shoot. 

Tangle flipped into the air and fell behind him, before punching him in the back of the head, sending him falling. 

“Harry!”; with this, X used the abilities again, and slammed the bonsai Reploid into the branches. 

It was toe to toe now. 

Amina went with a flying kick, but Tangle sent branches up to restrain her, but X restrained him again. 

“How are you doing this?” He yelled, before his eyes widened. 

“Wait-if you take the weapon chips of those who befall you, then that means-“. 

“I-I’m sorry.” X spoke. 

Harry got up, rubbing his head, and picked up the arms.

He grabbed the helmet and put the muzzle to the back of his head. 

“Enough games…” he hissed. 

“Listen, hear us out…” X spoke calmly. 

“He’s not gonna-“; Amina was interrupted just by the soft and tired gaze. 

“Look, aren’t you tired? Of letting the innocent be abused alongside the genuine Mavericks? Surely you know that not all of them have had severe offenses.” X explained. 

“No. A criminal is a criminal. They rebelled against the humans. I rarely take part in discipline. It’s usually Canine…if he’s…” Tangle trailed off.

“Yes…I am sorry…but we caught him whipping one of the prisoners. Then he tried to kill my girlfriend…” X informed him. 

“I understand…but this is my purpose. To guard elite territory, and protect the inside and out from mavericks.” Tangle said. 

“We’re here to protect civilians from mavericks as well. But we’re here because some of our members are here, and we just want to retrieve them and take them back. We also found some innocent reploids are in here, or those who are being punished for lesser offenses such as con arts or accidents.” X informed him. 

“And we heard what you were told…” Amina interjected; she stepped forwards. “That a reploid’s only purpose was to serve humans.”. 

“And I am okay with serving humans. Even if it isn’t for all reploids, I am comfortable obeying.”. 

“But that’s not your only purpose.” X assured him. “You can have more than one purpose.”. 

“It doesn’t matter.”. Harry lowered his gun. “Whatever you choose, you have to know when to say no. We want our members back, and we want the innocent to go unharmed.”. 

“But-but I will face consequences for my failure.” Tangle spoke. 

“We’ll protect you, Bonsai.” Harry assured him. 

There was a long pause. 

He sighed. 

The branches retreated into the ground. 

X let him go. 

They left the other Reploid to stew in his thoughts. 

Amina looked back.

He seemed scared and hesitant. 

They found the back entrance. 

Amina put the multi card to the key slide and the door opened, sporadic matrix code filling the screen on the keypad. 

“Alright, Marty! You sure you’re feeling better?” Pearl inquired. 

“Already. I can’t just sit here!” Marty said. 

“Well, just be careful.”; she handed Marty her spear, as well as one of the new weapons Kela had delivered. 

This one was the chemical shot. 

“Erm…do you…know anything about the periodic table?” Pearl stammered. 

“Uh…”; that was a no. 

“Alright.”; she dug around in the crate for another. 

“Here.”; it was a mace. 

“Thanks.” Marty said. 

She went to head back to the prison. 

“Of course, they brainwash a guard of ours!” Maria yelled through gritted teeth. 

They had both been listening with the device they had implanted onto Tangle Bonsai’s armor, like they did with most of their Reploid employees. 

“Such a shame. He was loyal, too. Oh well.”; Rudy pressed a button. 

“Sharpie, will you prepare our…security protocols?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”.

“Excellent.”; he hung up. 

“Don’t worry, snookums. Their little adventure…is just beginning…” Rudy sneered. 

They both smiled at the screens, waiting for them to enter. 

[offthewall1979]

"I said 'but unlock the door, cuz I forgot the key.' She said 'it's not comin back, because you're sleepin with me!'"

WHAT???????????????

[rwritingblog]

The Amina Universe Overview (Part 1)

Hello Rebel here,

So I haven't been active much lately but I'm back now! This time I wanted to talk about an original idea that was really important to me. And that is the Anima Universe.

The Anima Universe is a project I have been working on for a very long time, since I first started writing in fact, and is a multiple series of novels that take place in the same universe. Kind of like the MCU which is why I jokingly call it my BCU (Book Cinematic Universe).

There are eight stories within the project, each with its own themes, characters, and settings. There are many things that connect them timeline-wise and each one affects the other but they still stand on their own. The stories are spilt across two general settings; Earth and a magical planet called Majjia. Plus one that takes place in the wider universe and has a sci-fi feel to it.

Below We'll go over one of the stories and it's characters.

The Magical Core

The Magical Core is the very first original story I ever created. I remember creating the concept for the main Character Celestia on my great-grandmother's porch years ago. I still have the picture I drew of her.

The story of the Magical Core involves a group of four girls; Celestia Nightmare, Zerenity Silver-Moon, and Roxxanne November as they travel through the world of Majjia in search of a woman who is extremely important to them, Saturn Stars. The book is planned to have 14 chapters and takes place over a few weeks. I have an outline for the entire book and have so, so many versions of almost each chapter. It just needs refinement before I feel comfortable publishing it. (BTW The book also changes POVs between certain characters)

Let's go over the protag of the story! (I'll do other characters at a later date I was going to do them all here but the post was getting long)

Celestia Nightmare

Celestia Nightmare is the protagonist of The Magical Core and is the character whose POV we see the most. She's the only daughter of Sally and Jack Nightmare, prominent figures on the planet of Majjia. Celestia comes from a very wealthy well-known noble family known as House Nightmare. Members of House Nightmare have been in so many history books. Like so many guys.

Celestia is an elf and one of the features of that species is the fact that their last names and magic are interconnected. If you have a last name like Earth you have an easier time using Earth magic. Celestia's last name is Nightmare which means she has the ability of fear magic. Fear Magic is a subtype of Empathy Magic, a type of magic that allows people to feel other people's emotions with the downside that they can never turn it off. Once they turn it on it can never be turned off.

Those who have fear magic can see a person's greatest fear and have severe nightmares that feel very, very, real. Most of the time those nightmares aren’t even theirs but someone else's.

Celestia's parents died tragically when she was nine. They were murdered by a group called the Knights of Blood, agents of the evil High Queen Blood Spill, during an event known as the Rosewood Massarce. (The entire town of Rosewood, where Celestia's family lived at the time, was burned to the ground, hence the name.) After her parents' death, Celestia was taken in by a family friend, Saturn Stars.

Celestia has long sunset-colored hair like this. The reason she has this hair color was because younger me poeticly described red hair as sunset and then I really thought about it and decided this look was cooler.

Celestia has complete heterochromia, her left eye is a gentle forest green while the right one is a sharp electric blue, both glow eerily in the dark. I have a narrative reason for this but the irl reason is that I couldn't decide whether or not to give her blue or green eyes and so I gave her both.

Celestia's style of clothing is very casual which matches her personality. She's seen more in ripper jeans or pants with at least a dozen pockets than a skirt. Her outfits are very celestial-themed and she's never seen without her vambraces—silver with a wolf engraving that once belonged to her father and gold with a phoenix engraving from her mother.

Celestia wields a jian sword known as Præstans Tantibus which once belonged to her mother. The sword features a midnight purple and black handle, with the Nightmare family crest delicately engraved into the pommel. The blade itself is adorned with the phrase "Lux lunae me ducet ubi sol non apparet." which translates to "The light of the moon will guide me when there is no sun in sight." and embedded symbols related to the sun god Rad.

Here's that symbol btw (Created by yours truly)

Celestia is such an interesting character and like I mentioned earlier was created on my Great-Grandmother's porch. Her name originates from Princess Celestia and Nightmare Moon from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. This origin is the reason she's so sun and moon-coded. I call her an eclipse and based her character arc on the day and night cycle.

When she was a kid she was daylight, bright and cheerful but when her parents died it turned her into sunset. The girl she was died with them and thus the sun set on Celestia of the past and created Celestia of the present making her twilight current. The sun has set but the moon has yet to rise, she's an empty sky slowly getting darker and darker.

Celestia is intelligent but also reckless and impulsive. She can be short-tempered, lashing out when things get too overwhelming. She's chaotic and things that make sense to her don't always make sense to other people. She's energetic, loud, and independent with an extremely active imagination. Celestia is loyal, adaptable, bold, and passionate.

She leads with her heart and is kind, empathic, and idealistic. Celestia is an extremely moral person and believes in doing the right thing no matter what. She's a bit of a mess because of the Rosewood Massacre PTSD and survivor's guilt are things she has. Celestia often feels like a ghost possessing her own body and while she can literally feel other people's emotions is detached from her own. She feels so much it's hard to determine what her and what's someone else. Celestia struggles to identify her own desires, wants, and goals, making her somewhat aimless.

The main themes of the book are life, death, and rebirth but not in the literal sense. A quote that has always stuck with me is this one.

"a dancer dies twice — once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.”

Which begs the question. Can you be reborn after an event that killed you? If there are two types of deaths there must also be two types of life. A literal one and a metaphorical one. This is why rebirth is a common theme. Each character has lost something important to them and must find a way to be without it and metaphorically be reborn.

Celestia, and each of the other main characters, represent rebirth within the story and each of them has death and life characters that represent a path they could have or could go down. The life character is who they could have or would have been had they not gone through their metaphorical death. Life characters are an ideal or a standard they can no longer live up to. While death characters are what would happen if they stay dead. What would happen if they let the pain control them. Rebirth is therefore them taking control of their lives as it is now and choosing to be better than both the life and death characters. Blazing a new path forward to create something that has never been seen before.

Celestia's life character is her mother, Sally Nightmare. Sally wasn't a cheerful person like you would expect from a character who represents life and has a sun motif. She was bright and mesmerizing. A fiery spirit who was charismatic, kind, wise, and hopeful. The ideal warrior and person in Celestia's mind who died protecting those she cared for. Sally is everything Celestia wanted to be and maybe would been if the Rosewood Massacre hadn't happened.

Celestia's death character is the villain of the series High Queen Blood Spill, ruler of the 13 United Kingdoms of Majjia. People talk about the High Queen in hush whispers and dare not speak her name using only epithets and titles like she's some sort of death god. Which is a way she is. The High Queen is strife and discord. Pain and torture. She's introduced sitting on a throne made of bone in a throne room covered in blood with people chained to the wall in various states of harm. Some are nothing more than decomposing corpses and others might as well be as they wait for death to claim them.

The High Queen is a bitter woman lashing out at the world for what it has done to her. She is who Celestia could become if she lets the grief of losing her parents consume her.

The life character is dead and the death character is alive but both haunt the narrative.

(For those who were curious here is the drawing I made of Celestia when I first created her like a decade ago)