#[i know some versions push her more into the background]

[poison-ninja-star]

😈 meow meow

Um...upon further study, I believe "meow meow" is a fictional character who is oft placed in a villainous role but thou feels sympathetic to their plight? Thou will have to pardon any inaccuracies, I hope I hath understood thyne question correctly!

As for mine answer...hm...I suppose I would hath to give that title to Queen Clytemnestra from the play Agamemnon. Most oft, she is portrayed as a spiteful bitter wife, but if one thinks deeply then thou can see her reasoning. After all, her husband sacrificed their child, Iphigenia, without her knowledge! If that were not a stinging blow enough, he returns with a new woman claimed as spoils of war!

Indeed, murder twas a rather drastic act. Especially since the new woman Cassandra did naught to deserve her wrath. However, I findeth her to be rather tragic unlike some who perceive her as purely malicious!

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

•~{ Heyyy so not much to say but hope you enjoy }~•

•Undead Gardener•

Ivy has made a friend, now let’s go back a little.

When she was in the park late at night, she was told by some plants that some asshole buried a body here and that would be unhealthy for the plants.

She saw that someone got to the man first, he had thorn vines around his arms, legs, and neck and a flowers she hadn’t ever seen before in cuts on his body and he was most certainly dead so as Ivy was wondering if the plants themselves did this she heard some footsteps from behind her and when she turned to look she was met with a boy.

“Oh hello” the boy says clearly surprised with her being here but that’s not what caught her attention at was the same red and purple flowers from the body are on him by his neck and the same vines are around his wrist it makes it clear what this boy did to the man.

“Hello are you the one who killed this man?” Ivy asked simply to the boy “Yes I did, he buried a body in the park it would damage the the green life!” The boy says back to Ivy as he pointed at the body “I was coming back to grab the body and feed him to my blood blossoms” he says and now Ivy wants to learn more about these blood blossoms.

“I could help with the moving of the body” Ivy says to interrupt the boys rambling and uses the vines already on his body to move the body up and turns back to the boy who is now smiling and says kindly “Thank you for the help, I’m Danny and what do you want to know about my blood blossoms?”

“You’re welcome Danny now where did they come from and how did they get the name Blood blossoms?”Ivy said in response and they start walking away with the dead body behind them.

Yeah Ivy made a friend.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

Everything was well for Danny, the ghost have chilled out as Danny has moved to Gotham for college, but he found out that the ecto in Gotham is very… not heathy for halfas to stay for more than a week and even that was pushing it so Danny had to find a way to stay.

So he heads to Undergrowth who he has gotten close to in the past few years and ask what he could do and Undergrowth explains that Blood blossoms eat that kind of ecto that Gotham has like candy and probably not even bother Danny for blood but he would have to wear them on his person to stay healthy.

So Danny grabs some blood blossoms puts them around his neck as a necklace and goes about college life.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•Sam managed to turn Danny to the dark side [She got him as obsessed with plant life as she is]

•Sam, Tucker and Danny will FaceTime a few times a week and on one of them Ivy and Harley are seen in the background talking and Sam loses her shit

•Undergrowth will randomly show up to give Danny random plants and more blood blossoms [Danny thinks it how he shows affection but he is to scared to ask]

•Harley likes Danny as a kind kid and funny as hell

•Danny’s apartment is full of plants with a eye instead of an pistil or flowers with a mouth full of teeth and vines it looks so cool

•Danny and Sam have grown even closer as friends with Danny new little friends and Tucker feels like it’s spreading

•Danny and Sam will send plants to each other

Danny may be more chill with plants doesn’t mean his space obsession stopped

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearance•

[Just because he has a newfound passion for plants doesn’t mean that he stopped being a nerd for space and stars]

[ And here’s a version with pants! I know rare for me but I got to deep in the art and couldn’t pick so you get both! ]

[Just Imagine these but instead of the flowers it’s blood blossoms]

And here is the picture that started this thing

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•~{ And that’s it I hope you gremlins like it byeeee }~•



[cinnamanz]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter thirty-one!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 813 (pls read it)

PARTY ON YOU

3am.

your phone buzzes against the nightstand like it’s mad at you. it’s 3 am., and you’re two minutes away from ignoring it until you catch the name—yunjin. great, a drunk call. again.

you answer with a groggy, “what?”

“y/n,” she practically yells over the music in the background. “please. come get sophia.”

you sit up. “what happened?”

“she’s wasted,” yunjin says, dragging out the word like it physically hurts her. “two drinks. two! and now she’s dancing on the coffee table and i don’t—”

you’re already pulling a hoodie over your head. “text me the address.”

you hated parties. too many bodies crammed into too little space, everyone sticky with sweat and trying too hard to forget whatever they're running from. the smell of spilled beer, the throb of music that isn't even that good, people you don’t know getting too close, too loud. it's never been your thing.

but it’s sophia.

so you're in your car, driving too fast, jaw clenched and music low because any louder and your thoughts would swallow you whole. you're annoyed. you're tired. you're dreading this. you don’t want to go.

and still—you go.

you shoulder through the front door of a house that reeks of cheap alcohol and regret. the bass inside is shaking the floor. bodies are packed wall to wall, swaying under lights that flicker like they’ve given up. a group is singing off-key in the kitchen, someone’s crying on the stairs, and there’s a random guy passed out in a bathtub full of ice.

you hate it here.

but your eyes keep scanning, searching—until they land on her.

sophia.

dead center of the living room, where the crowd parts just enough to let her move. hair wild, cheeks flushed, the mess of strobe lights dancing across her skin like a kaleidoscope. she's laughing so freely, like nothing in the world could touch her. no distance. no history. no heartbreak you’ve unknowingly caused her.

and in a way—it does.

for a moment, the whole house fades. the sound dulls. the lights slow.

you're not here anymore.

you're back in your childhood bedroom. the abba playlist is skipping from years of overuse. sophia’s jumping on your bed, a glittery pink hairbrush in one hand, screaming mamma mia! at the top of her lungs. you’re laughing, trying to sing along between breaths, the two of you spinning until you fall into a tangled heap of limbs and joy.

but that was another life.

now, you’re just someone who’s been watching her from afar. someone who doesn’t get invited to those kinds of moments anymore. rightfully so.

and yet, you’re here. you still came.

your body moves before your brain can catch up. you push through the dancers, the sweat, the noise, until you’re standing just in front of her. you reach out and curl your fingers around her wrist.

she stumbles slightly, eyes blinking open, and when she looks at you—really looks at you—the air stills.

the memories flood back—first in a trickle, then like a storm. scraped knees and sidewalk chalk. sleepovers that stretched until sunrise. secrets whispered under shared blankets. the soft hum of safety, of knowing and being known. even through the haze of alcohol and pulsing lights, something cuts through it—you.

not the version of you that came back all sharp edges and unreadable stares, but you. not the stranger she’s had to relearn in glimpses.

but you.

the you who held her hand when thunder made her flinch. the you who made sure she ate when she was too distracted to remember. who knew her favorite snacks without asking. who memorized all her tells—nervous habits, guilty smiles, the exact moment she was about to cry.

the you who said she sang better than abba themselves, even when she was off-key to make you laugh—not that she'd ever tell you. you who smiled like the sun. who laughed like it was a secret only meant for her.

and for a breathless, blinking second, she sees that girl again. and wonders if maybe—just maybe—you never left.

you see her soften.

your voice, low and steady, breaks the moment. “let’s go home.”

and as she nods, still swaying slightly, her hand tightening around yours—the music floods back in like a wave. but in your head, it’s still just that same chant, looping over and over, a soft, aching echo:

“party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you party on-party on you, party on you.”

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

gnarly revived me back to lyfe🔥🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️‼️‼️💯💯💯💯💯 I HAVE EXAM NEXT WEEK ND THE WEEK AFTER END ME bare w me guys😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏

@zindoriyo @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @iisayfa @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[ahhhwomen]

Long overdue sorrow.

Vampire Empire

Part 7.2

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: I got imposter syndrome, so hehe… also I don’t know what comfort is… but this is it ig? Well its my version, take it or leave it.

Chapter Warnings: Self-hatred, my version of comfort, allustions to past abuse Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 3k

Taglist

You can still feel her.

Stained teeth crush together, grinding and creaking as your jaw suffers to bite down the nausea that settles in the pit of your stomach.

Bits and pieces of adrenaline rush inside you, leaving you unaware of the blood that trickles from your lip, smudging against your tear-stained cheeks as you strain yourself while the remnants of your nightmare float inside your head.

Her hands.

Her claws.

Her teeth.

Her taste.

It’s as if you’re still there. 

Its…

It’s just-

It’s- it’s too dark.

That’s it.

Your enclosure.

It’s just too dark.

You grope blindly against the floor; your eyebrows scrunched together as you search. The cord of your heat lamp had been janky for a while, so it was bound to snap at some point.

Your palms are spread wide to offer the most surface area as you glide them gently atop the space beside your knees. The glide is smooth, lacking the usual bite as skin scratches against concrete. You feel individual sensations against the pads of your fingertips; you can’t, for the love of you, remember having this much space to search through before.

It takes you far longer than you care to admit before you realize something is definitely wrong.

The ground.

It’s soft?

“Hey, baby.” You yelp at the sound of her voice and flinch as the overhead lights flicker on.

Squinting, you lift your left hand to shield yourself from the light that filters above you. A few strands of rouge light shine between your fingers, illuminating them and blinding you as your eyes adjust to the harshness.

Something is obscuring your view of the doorway, which definitely doesn’t make sense because your enclosure doesn’t have a doorway, it barely has metal bars.

After a few seconds, the blob of darkness morphs into the scary older redhead.

Ah.

Right…

It's like a blanket of stone settling atop your frame as the circumstances sink in.

It’s so heavy… pushing and dragging against your neck and shoulders as you dig your hands into the carpet to keep yourself up.

You look at her for a moment. With her right shoulder pressed against expensive oak, Wanda fumbles with her feet as she leans against the doorframe. Seemingly uncertain of which leg to add the most weight to.

It’s so distinctively unlike her…

And yet, though she is clearly unsure of herself, she still holds her head high, shoulders rolled back, and her feet firmly planted.

It’s almost funny… the resemblance.

Goosebumps litter your skin as the chill of the room invades your senses while you take in your surroundings. Shifting your focus to the bed behind you, you see sheets and pillows scattered along the floor where you must have fallen.

There is rustling in the background as the older redhead moves around, but you ignore it. You can’t look at her. You are surprised she can look at you.

The sound bounces off the walls first. It’s like the echo of a recurring nightmare as the heavy sound bounces and rings in a screech inside the brightly lit room. With your head turned, you can’t see, but you know the command well as she knocks twice beside her heel.

The resemblance.

It hurts…

That must be humorous to her.

Which only makes it hurt more…

“Come here.” The two taps against the cushioned flooring repeat. The sound is heavier than before, with more pressure behind each knock. Her clenched fist twitches a little after each collision, and her voice stays firm.

You drag your legs against the strange softness beneath you, seeping into it with more weight than strictly necessary. When your palms leave the designated path for a moment and stride slightly to the sides, the carpet itches against your scrawny fingers.

The floor is entirely carpeted in this room…

Clawing forward, your knees push down upon the material, testing its durability. Your knees don’t ache, and there is no screeching groan as your joints struggle. You can’t feel the movement in your bones.

There is no bite of pain.

You hate it.

The carpet brushes against the sides of your butt as you sit down a few feet in front of the knelt-down woman. Trying in vain to alleviate the slight itchiness, you attempt to evenly distribute your weight between your hands and rump. It takes a few trials and errors before you find a comfortable enough position.

When you stop squirming, Wanda takes a hold of your jaw, twisting your head gently until you are forced to look into her eyes. Your neck strains against the movement, unsure of whether to obey or not, but it’s fruitless; you know you can’t stop yourself.

She runs her thumb, back and forth, against your chin as her slightly curled pointer holds your head up, “You are mine.”

Huh?

Instead of elaborating, the older redhead licks her thumb.

It’s wet and cold against your cheek as she smooches it over the trail of dried blood originating from your split lip. Her finger runs over dried speckles repeatedly, flaking them off and catching them on her spit-covered thumb, saliva rehydrating it until it glistens to life.

She continues like this for a few moments. When she deems her work good enough, Wanda wipes her thumb on her pants, purposefully avoiding the taste of you.

You should be offended.

However, you understand.

You have always understood.

The older woman continues in a firm, yet gentle, tone, “It’s my job to take care of you. You don’t think, you don’t do, you just listen.” Being this close to her, you can feel her breath dancing between the two of you; it puffs against your lips periodically.

Why bother?

If you could, you might have asked her that.

God, you are so fucking disgusting.

For someone who’s been praised for their intelligence since childhood, Wanda feels incredibly stupid at this moment.

Wanda knows that look.

She should have noticed sooner.

It wasn’t like your detached behavior from the last couple of days. This was different. You didn’t cower away from her, and you didn’t look through her either.

You were here, but not with her.

You look angry.

But not at her.

Oh…

Oh no.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

For a moment, everything is a blur of motion as the redhead moves at an inhumane speed. Not giving you enough time to react.

Warm hands encircle your waist. Her left hand rests the lowest, just above your tailbone, drawing small imaginary circles as her right hand sneaks its way into your hair. She gently hauls you into her lap, catching you off guard as a tiny squeak escapes from your lips before you can stop yourself.

You tense, preparing for the harsh tug as claws grip your hair firmly while she feeds from you. Instead, Wanda pushes against the back of your head with an open palm until you are forced to lie your ear against her shoulder, hiding your face beneath her jaw.

There isn’t much time to react before Wanda makes up her mind.

“Come. It’s late.”  Her left hand shifts from your lower back to supporting your bottom as she lifts you up and starts the trek to the master bedroom where Natasha is waiting for the both of you.

All you can focus on is the sound of her bare feet hitting the flooring as confusion and uncertainty simmer below the surface. However, you are too exhausted to think up questions you will never have answered or fight her grip, so instead, you relax into her.

She’s warm against your bare skin; it’s different from your heat lamp. Depending on the temperature outside, your red lamp would either scorch you or delicately balance you between life and death. Her skin was smooth, unlike your own, the subtle smell of roses submerging you in its warmth, softness, and false safety.

She can’t lie…

Natasha has to fight incredibly hard not to gasp out loud at the sight that greets her as her wife carries you into their bedroom.

The sheets beneath Natasha ruffle as she places her book on the nightstand beside her. The cover is leather, far older than you, so its texture runs deep, leaving small pits in the most used positions where the oil of her fingertips has run its course over the years.

She had been keeping a tuned ear on the baby monitor on Wanda’s side of the bed, but she didn’t expect this when she heard Wanda’s command for you to follow.

You are allowing yourself to be held…

But it’s not just that…

Natasha’s eyes are glued to the pair of you as Wanda pats your bottom reassuringly while she works on juggling you while attempting to get you both placed on the bed with the sheets pulled back.

You are resting with your head against Wanda’s throat…

The world’s most powerful vampire…

The mantra repeats inside Natasha’s head in the few seconds it takes for Wanda to settle on the bed with you still atop her lap.

You are resting… with your teeth against the only vulnerable part of a vampire’s anatomy.

Wanda gets squirmy even if it’s Natasha getting close to her throat.

The quick jab to her ribs is the only thing that brings Natasha back from her gob-smacked stare as Wanda flairs her elbow out and tilts her head toward your slumped frame. The lack of proper rest must be getting to you if you allow this much touch, especially from her wife.

Natasha’s lips can’t help but lift a little, seeing your small frame curled like a sleepy kitten on top of her wife’s lap, it was rather cute.

Reaching over slowly, so as to let you retreat from her touch, the younger redhead is delighted to be allowed to run her hand over your back gently while you relax heavily against the warm body beneath you.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The pressure of multiple sets of hands pulls you deeper into the steep waters of your exhaustion.

They will make a fool of you.

The disgraceful pig you are.

Absolutely revolting.

“Stop that, baby.” Wanda drags her fingers through your hair, detangling and smoothing down your frizzy ends.

Your behavior was telling…

She weaves through your strands, tenderly separating parts and placing them to the side of your neck, the opposite side of the one that nuzzles her. Though it doesn’t expose your face to her watchful gaze, she can see your jaw peeking out and leans down to place a quick peck, unable to help herself.

It’s all so very strange…

Yesterday, she could barely look at you.

After… well you know.

You are rather sickening, so you can’t blame her.

But… what is going on…?

Wanda can practically feel the self-loathing that oozes from your very essence; it is her fault, really. She had assumed you would need space after what she did, but looking at you now, subtly shaking inside her hold due to the guilt you carry, Wanda realizes her mistake.

Pats turn into tender scratches. The tips of her nails rake down the back of your neck, the nail on her pointer is distinctively sharper than the rest, it pushes down on your skin, leaving behind a trickle of pressure, tugging lightly against the small hairs at the nape of your neck.

It feels…

Nice?

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Wanda whispers against the side of your head. Again, Natasha is the one who has to refrain from doing a spit take as her wife admits fault in such a caring manner.

The older redhead has her cheek pressed into the side of your head, leaving her words soft as she sighs them against the shell of your ear. The tiny hairs on the upper part of your ear stand at attention as her breath washes over them in a soothing pattern.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” She stills the hand against your neck, shifting it until her palm holds loosely against your jugular, and she pushes down against it. Pushing and prodding until you groan in relief. It’s on the tip of too tight, challenging your every breath.

Just like your collar used to.

“Want to know how I know this?” The question is rhetorical, and Wanda answers before you can think about it, “Because I am not Carol. I’m not a monster.”

Her other hand strokes your back. Her fingertips are warm, yet they leave behind trails of chills as she drags them back and forth against your shoulder blades while Natasha rests her hand against your lower back, “And neither are you.”

Yes, you are.

Your nose digs into her throat, desperately trying to escape the lies that pour from the older woman. You can feel her pulse against you, beating in a rhythm far slower than your own.

You might not have the accessibility to a mirror, but you aren’t stupid.

You aren’t like the other pets. You know how you look and what the meaning of your scars are. There is nothing desirable about you except for being a fucking juice box.

That damn collar was the only thing shielding you from your true gruesome self.

Without it you are nothing.

Nothing but h-

“You are mine.” A veiny hand joins the comforting weight against your throat, and you gently sway to the side as Natasha playfully shoulder bumps her wife in warning while she strokes the other side of your throat. The redhead sighs a chuckle, “Mine. And Natasha’s.”

Wanda leans even closer, whispering directly into your ear, it tickles a little, “But mostly mine.”

Your brows furrow in confusion for what feels like the hundredth time that night, but Wanda beats you to it, “I don’t know why… I don’t know when it changed; perhaps you were always meant to be ours.”

“These-“ The older redhead pushes gently onto one of the many scars that litter your neck, “don’t change that.” Wanda can feel your eyelashes flutter against her skin as you squint in suspicion.

Wanda continues to whisper softly, keeping a layer of calm that she hopes will settle some of your worries for the night, “We will get you a new collar. Natasha tells me she has ordered your name tag, though that one scares me a little because she refuses to tell me what’s on it…” The redhead aims for playful reassurance, but she hears you sniffle long before the first tear slides down her throat.

Isn’t it enough already?!

Why do they never know when to stop…

GOD JUST STOP!

You whine in disdain, horrified with your own reaction as you hear Wanda speak of a future you know to be false. You squirm inside their hold, tightening your hands against the older redhead’s cotton t-shirt as you desperately attempt to collect yourself silently.

“Look at me-“You pull away from her, embarrassed by your own reaction. She guides you back with her pointer while continuing to gently shush you, “No baby, eyes on me.”

You obey, if only to make her stop talking. Screwing your eyes open, your look into her eyes with tears obscuring your view, it stretches and morphs the sight before you, leaving you unsure whether you are really looking at her or not.

Wanda tightens her grip on you, the mere sight of your tears leaving her angry at memories she knows she can’t erase, but her anger can wait.

It needs to be said.

“You are mine. And you are beautiful.” She whispers between the two of you, the words land somewhere between your eyebrows, and you stare down at her. Natasha is glued to your back, keeping you sandwiched between the two of them so you can’t escape.

It’s unavoidable.

In that moment, everything boils over.

Every pot of despair, fear, hurt, and sorrow, bubbles and hisses.

And you?

You sob like the child you never were.

Natasha’s hands grip your midsection from behind. Your pain sears through her, and she digs her fingers in enough to feel your ribs expand and contract as you wheeze your pain through gurgling sobs.

“You are beautiful,” the younger redhead repeats the words of her wife, determined to say it until the end of her life if only to get you to believe it. You have been through so much, and you deserve this. You deserve the truth.

“Shhh… I know, I know, just breathe for me, honey,” Wanda keeps one hand firmly planted against your chest, helping regulate your breathing as she pushes up and down, while the other wipes away your tears.

You heave yourself on top of Wanda, curling into her, sticking your head as tight against her neck as you can manage.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

But…

You claw your hands under her shirt, desperate for contact. Wanda relents, separating herself for a split moment so she can strip off the ugly band shirt she only uses for sleep attire.

With her naked skin pressed against yours and the praise whispered from her counterpart, you feel like you can finally breathe for the first time in your life.

Your body is determined to wring out every ounce of sorrow it has carried for so many years, and the two redheads let it. Cooing and soothing you as you sob.

It’s far passed midnight when you finally calm, only a sniffle here and there remaining. Truly spent and wrung out, you pass out against Wanda’s chest.

Wanda kisses your forehead and lets herself truly feel your weight settling on her chest; she feels your breath against her sensitive neck, your hands loosening.

It feels right.

Like you were always meant to be here.

Nothing is permanently fixed.

Wanda still has some next-level groveling to do after the stunt she pulled a few nights ago.

And in the morning, you will go back to your quiet, reserved, shy self.

But, for tonight; you cry, you cuddle, and you sleep without guilt or fear.

For once, you are free.

(You guys waited 9 months for this absolute garbage... I am so sorry)

Taglist:

@thinking1bee @tobiaslut @esmeseasle @skittlebum @tia-thesimp @maximilfsworld @leenasayeed @scarlethexelove @itsalwaysskorpioszn @observeowl @tekanparadiae @adelareys @anqyuicka @ichala @thalia-is-not-ok @lovelyy-moonlight @wandamaximoff-simp @opossumking03 @confidant-thoughts @delivery-bird @esouliie @geydumbbetch @dorabledewdroop @herwagonempathkid @mommysfavouritegirl @auroraromaximoff @roman0ffsheart @morganna-la-faye @kaosrsing @lizzieswife101 @og-kxsh-420 @chibilauren @sgm616 @cyber-juipter @falloutboy-lover @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @likefirenrain @cole2907 @rahhhha @taliiiaasteria @dehydratedcoffeeaddict @viktoriaromanovaa @julz2000 @ahintofchaos @consti-ss @broimjustadepressedlesbian @rowiebear @crispychaosmaker @mary-20 @romanoff101 @alexawynters @dinno-nuggets @riddlesknot @marvelwomenarehot0 @mommysgoodlittlebrat @purplelandyouth @consti-ss @redwolfphoenix @imnotawitch @transparentflapfarmsludge @gaylorvader @inarayofmoonlight @macaroni676 @xuxxke79 @laserbeam473 @mousetheorist @doyouseetthewords @vanessashands

[edenspoem]

jus needa grab ellies hips from behind and sway em while music plays in the background… until you sway em a little too much and she gives you that look. she’s all mushy internally but acts like a stone wall on the outside. turning around to softly sway her towards the sofa and lay her down. EEEEP she’d totally get that loser grin out too. eating her out and she’s all squirmy n’ flustered <3 neeeeeeda handle her cause she deserves some loving !!!

18+ ─⋆˙꩜ ur so real for this anon. said loser grin crooking her pretty peach lips as she observes you, leading your mouth over various leas of fabrics and flesh. all on one synonymous path to the heart of her thighs; collarbone, sternum, belly button, the borderline of her waistband. with each muddled smack of your kiss, she would squirm, and rouse in volume. so, when the area most craved, most anticipated for, is met with your hungriest kiss - she moans, "uhhnn, shit," and lets a curse slip, chin nearly touching her neck as her head had perked to follow you, visually. that's when the grin n' all her cute dimples and wrinkles recede, when realization sinks in. ellie could tell your intent earlier, but she was too caught up in the swaying and the smooching to actually prepare her mind. lime-eyed fluster shines in the sockets staring at you - pursed brows and mushy, heart-shaped pupils - as you undo her bottoms, backs of your knuckles crossing the textured length of her thighs as you ease the waistband down. a giggle forms in your chest when her legs quickly retreat from the pantholes you've just glid from her ankles, ellie clearly being too enkindled and flustered to guess where you want - no, need her legs to go. "hey, hey- where ya' going els'?" your voice crawls to her, and you collect her ankles in your softened fists, bringing her to you. her tone is cracked, careful, infected with a tiny laugh. "sorry," such a silly girl, apologizing when your face is gratuitous between her thighs, "i-i didn't know where you wanted me to— aahh.."

ellie is the worst at taming herself when she gets licked: will press so dearly on your head as your tongue swipes or takes her clit into the warmth of your mouth, you aren't a stranger to her raspy curses, whines and jerky movements. for sure. sometimes that loser beam will return with her rushed and breathy chants of, "yes.. yes, yes yes.." pussy lips throbbing and pushing for more of your delirious tongue. could you also imagine her, softly curing her bitten n' tugged lips with another, "fuck, fuck it, m'sorry," right before her fingers hook the lowest point of your head and shove you into her little, desperate grinds, breathlessly begging. "i wanna come, wanna come, fuckin' lick me faster - fuck!" eyes twisting cross-eyed as she finally climaxes. all. over.

on a side note - ELLIE HIP LOVING NATION! [2nd picture from ellievaleriaa via pinterest : P] [lmk if a big text version is needed]

[lvmoure]

Baby Fever CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: In which they are both ready to step into the next label.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

You always wanted to be a mother. Sure, that feeling had been quietly humming in the background of your life, an almost imperceptible ache that grew steadily, but with each passing day, it had become stronger. And then came Carlos, so full of life, his laughter, his spirit—it was easy to imagine what a child of his would be like. It was easy to picture a little version of him running around, their laughter echoing like his, their eyes bright and curious, filled with the same intensity. But that conversation hadn’t come up yet, at least not seriously. So when you two were asked to babysit the nieces and nephews for a day, it felt like fate had a way of pushing things along.

The house was a flurry of tiny, rapid footsteps and loud giggles, toys scattered around like the remnants of a colorful hurricane. You and Carlos sat in the living room, surrounded by your nieces and nephews—three kids, all under the age of six, with boundless energy that made your head spin just watching. You’d spent most of the morning playing referee, distributing snacks, and occasionally rescuing someone from a tiny, toddler-sized disaster.

Carlos leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, watching you as you coaxed little Ana out of her hiding spot behind the couch with promises of her favorite juice. He shot you that lopsided grin, the one that told you he was just as entertained watching you in action as he was by the kids themselves.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the din of the children. His eyes had softened, a flicker of something warm and tender lingering there as he watched you.

You gave him a little smirk, tilting your head as you shrugged. “I think they’re just easily bribed with juice.”

Carlos chuckled, but his gaze lingered, like he was seeing something deeper. The kids were a whirlwind, tugging at his hands, demanding his attention just as much as yours. Ana climbed into his lap at one point, babbling about a story she half-invented, and he listened with exaggerated nods and expressions that had her giggling and clapping her hands in delight. You watched, heart swelling a bit as he played along, his big hands carefully adjusting her tiny, mismatched socks as she tried to describe an adventure involving a princess and a dragon.

Carlos had always been good with kids. He had a playful, patient streak that you couldn’t help but admire. He could make them laugh with the silliest faces, and he listened to their stories like they were the most important tales he’d ever heard. He was gentle with them in a way that made your heart ache a little bit more, that made you picture what it would be like if he were playing like this with a child that was truly yours.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that the kids were getting antsy. When Mateo, your five-year-old nephew, started whining about going to the park, you exchanged a look with Carlos.

“How about it?” Carlos asked, nudging you. “Think you can handle a few hours outdoors?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, nodding. “Let’s go, little ones. Grab your shoes!”

The sun was warm but gentle as you made your way to the park, your nephew Mateo holding onto your hand, chattering about his bike with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was getting better at riding, but he still needed someone nearby, just in case. Carlos was by your side, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked together, the two of you flanking Mateo like a protective shield.

Once at the park, you helped Mateo onto his little bike, adjusting his helmet and giving him an encouraging smile. “You ready to show us some cool tricks, little man?”

He beamed, a shy little nod as he gripped the handlebars and pedaled with a mix of concentration and excitement. You watched him with a tender expression, your hands hovering near him as he rode in small, careful loops.

Carlos leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching the two of you with an amused grin. “You’re babying him,” he teased softly, laughter in his voice.

You glanced back at him, giving him a mock glare. “He’s five, Carlos. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face.”

He shrugged, but he kept watching, that warm, thoughtful look never leaving his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself; you crouched down, offering Mateo a quick high-five when he completed another successful lap around you. “You’re getting really good at this, you know? Soon, you’ll be riding like a pro.”

Carlos chuckled softly behind you, and you shot him a sidelong glance, hoping maybe he’d pick up on the way you looked at Mateo, the way you held his little hands and clapped for every small victory. But Carlos, ever the racer, seemed more focused on encouraging Mateo’s speed than anything else.

---

The park outing had gone well, and as the sun started to dip, the three of you made your way back. You were a little tired, but a sense of peace had settled over you, a kind of warmth that lingered even after you’d waved goodbye to Mateo and returned him to his parents.

But then Carlos had to go and be his usual self—playfully dense, occasionally oblivious in the most endearing way. Back at the house, he’d start poking fun, saying, “You’re really good at this, you know. Maybe I should be the one that needs babying around here.”

You just rolled your eyes, a little annoyed but amused. “Very funny, Carlos. Maybe I’m just practicing for the real thing, ever thought of that?”

“Oh, you mean more babysitting gigs?” He feigned innocence, that sly grin telling you he knew exactly what you meant. But he’d drawn it out, pretending not to catch your hints. It was almost maddening, the way he could pretend to be oblivious.

At one point, he’d even leaned close, murmuring into your ear, “I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, but he’d just grinned, kissing the top of your head as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance with those words.

---

The next day, you both found yourselves wandering the mall. It was supposed to be a quick trip for groceries, but as you passed a baby shop—full of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and adorable little shoes—you couldn’t help but stop, your gaze lingering on a display of baby onesies.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, following your line of sight. “Something catch your eye?” he asked, his voice tinged with that playful edge, and you turned to him with a pointed look, letting your gaze drop deliberately to the baby clothes.

“Oh, I don’t know… Just thinking how cute it would be to have a little one of our own wearing something like this.” You said it casually, trying to keep the edge of hopefulness out of your voice.

But Carlos, ever the tease, just shrugged, giving you an exaggerated, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Our nieces and nephews would look adorable in that.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his arm, biting back an exasperated laugh as he gave you a wink, thoroughly enjoying his role as the clueless one.

Later that evening, after you’d both finally had enough of dancing around the topic, you found yourselves back at home, sitting together on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally lay it all out, not a hint, not a joke—just honesty.

“Carlos,” you began softly, looking down at your hands, “I… I really do want a child. With you. And I’ve been dropping hints, but I think maybe it’s time I just… say it.”

Carlos looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening, a hint of surprise mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

“You should’ve just said so,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he gave you a gentle smile. “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, a mix of relief and joy flooding your chest as you squeezed his hands. “I am ready. I’ve been ready for so long.”

Carlos pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “Then let’s make it happen. Our little family.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

______________________________________________________________

The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

[come-see-our-show]

I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!

Changed that I liked:

The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.

The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)

Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.

All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.

This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).

The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).

Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.

Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT

megan thee stallion just… being there

Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!

As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷

Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)

Changes that I didn’t like:

Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.

While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!

Other stuff:

The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!

The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me

The EDITING

Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.

Jon Hamm cameo!

Ashley Park cameo!

I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.

I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈

I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩

Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.

The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!

THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)

I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)

DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀

“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*

“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺

Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!

NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭

Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰

[teamcavota]

50 milo murphy's law facts

5 not so fun and 45 fun!

Not so fun to start!

The only Milo Murphy's Law official merchandise is a notebook released in Japan for the MML X PNF crossover.

Disney actually apologized to Dan (and I assume Swampy) for the treatment of Milo Murphy's Law. Dan has expressed frustration at the MMLs treatment before, citing the Hiatus between s1 and s2 and the fact it did not air on the main Disney Channel.

Doof appears in more episodes than Cavendish and Dakota in s2 (this is the real reason we needed a s3). Also, while PNF/Doof stuff was planned from the start, Disney did push for more PNF.

When season 2 was airing, new episodes would randomly be released in other countries.

Milo was cut from CATU due to a feeling from Disney that audiences would not recognize his cameo.

ok LAME ones out of the way

On the first drawing of Milo there are three names beside it: Milo, Mikey, and...Monty. As you probably know the Mikey one got pretty far and is the name used in the pitch bible (and was referenced with "I am Mikey!".) The reason Mikey was changed to Milo was not a creative choice, but because there was a popular YouTuber named "Mikey Murphy."

Speaking of, Milo was also just going to be another character apart of a different pitch, but Dan kept thinking he should go into his own show. He went to Swampy and asked him what he thought of Milo (at the time Mikey) and the idea of a show about Murphys Law. it took them about an hour to come up with the concept pitch.

You can find several of MML song dubbings on YouTube and other platforms. Most notably the Japanese version (マイロ・マーフィーの法則) highly worth checking out. Fun fact in a fun fact, Doof and Dakota also share the same voice actor in this dubbing.

In re-airings of some of the first MML episodes, second versions were made that included Cavendish and Dakota in the background.

Yes, Melissa was originally going to feel the lasting effects of the pistachion uprising by remaining looking like one instead of Bradley having his arm turned into a vine. This would have been a source of conflict for her in season 2, but in the end they felt it was too much of a change. As far as Bradley's plant arm it was originally only going to come out sometimes before it was changed to being a constant thing. He does have feeling in this arm.

The Island of Lost Dakota's was going to include a scene with merman Dakota's ("merkotas"). There was also going to be "mutation" Dakotas, such as ones with multiple heads.

There exists a live action version of the Milo Murphy's Law theme song. well, sorta, watch it

Before Milo came out Dwampy made the song "we're gonna do it again."

MML was originally set to debut in early 2017.

Weird Al did not originally come to mind for Milo. One of the idea voices they had was Noah Z Jones (Fish Hooks). They auditioned hundreds of people for Milo, but many had issues such as sounding too nervous in their lines. It wasn't until Alex Hirsch (Gravity Falls) posted a photo with Weird Al that Dwampy realized he'd be perfect for the role.

Sara is based on a friend of Dwampy.

In tune with the popular headcanon/fan theory, it's possible they did actually consider making Cavendish a descendant of Milo. When Cavendish was going to agree he also liked Milo, he was going to say he was his descendant. *this may have also just been a joke line

Milo and Cavendish are meant to mirror eachother in the fact Milo deals with Murphy's Law and Cavendish is the "author of his own misery" in regards to things going wrong.

Another thing they considered was the possibility of Dakota and Cavendish being in a romantic relationship, but they ultimately decided they wanted them to have them represent a strong male friendship.

The Milo Murphys Law crew did keep up a fanart and concept art wall. Here, here, and here are some photos.

There was a baby Cavenpus cut from final productions.

There are no official ages for Dakota and Cavendish. Dan has said he believes Cavendish to be older, while Joshua Pruett has said he believes Dakota to be the older one and by a bit of a margin.

Pistachios came to be a thing in the show because a son of some of Dan's neighbors had been allergic to specifically pistachios. They needed an idea for the larger plot and somehow those two came together. (Swampy also notes it's a funny word).

Several of the scripts for MML storyboarders included just the words, "and Murphy's Law happened."

Dan has made at least one Vinnie Dakota dedicated Tiktok similar to his Doof ones.

The Doof and Dakota lines were recorded together, back and forth.

Melissa was going to have a hamster nemesis named Ham. In the Pitch Bible the name wasn't included, but it's explained it was a pet class hamster that would always escape and end up on her things.

The secret handshake Milo and Zack do in scream-a-tourium was intended to be longer.

The studio executive for MML originally thought The Island of Lost Dakota's was a joke idea until he read the script.

There was a MML kids menu at Disneyland circa 2016.

Dakota and Cavendish were originally not in the shows ideas, nor was any B-plot, but being used to it in PNF the writers room felt they "needed something to cut away to"

Joshua Pruett pitched for the MML x PNF crossover for where when Milo opened his backpack to pull out the thing he needed to save the world it'd be...Phineas and Ferb.

Dakota is the reason parking tickets exist, as he can be a bit careless about leaving time vehicles all over the place. Dakota is proud of this.

Melissa's likeness and name is based on Dan's daughter Meli, as to sorta "balance out" Isabella also being based on his other daughter.

They considered a twist where Bob Block would be an alien wearing a face mask.

"Cavendish Farms" is an episode that never came to be pitched by Pruett where in order to track Cavendish Dakota would try to duplicate Cavendish, though none of them would quite be Cavendish. One of the Cavendishs would have a heart to heart with Dakota, while Doof would ultimately call out Dakota for what he's doing and tell Dakota "you already know what he would do." dwampy rejected this idea because this was a bad idea, to which pruett felt that is exactly why Dakota would have tried it. if renewed, pruett would have tried to convince them more on it.

Chop Away at My Heart was originally called "Jump Jump Jump" and was made for another project by one of Dan's friends. After Dan have asked to transform it into something else for Milo, Joshua Pruett suggested a "Lumberjack themed boyband" in the script.

unfortunate split for character block limit

Dakotas voice was inspired by Elvis Costello. It's also the harder voice for Dan in comparison to Doof.

Mark Hamill originally auditioned to play a teacher on the show, but Dwampy liked his audition so much they decided he'd better fit Mr. Block.

In the MML pitch bible it is stated, "Mikey has a destiny to fulfill, something vital to the future of the planet." The goal of Cavendish and Dakota would be to make sure he stays on the right path.

There IS a full version of We're Going to the Zoo, which was played by Dan in this interview at 3:00:30. Several MML songs have had full versions leaked, implying this is probably the case for some other songs too.

Like several other characters, Sara in the MML pitch bible was different from her show counterpart, being "a hipster like Thora Butch in Ghost World."

The song "A World Without Milo" is based on the song "Happy Together" by "The Turtles"

Almost every character, including creatures or minor one-offs had a name in the script. An example is "Pia," the name of the poodle Diogee falls in love with.

In regards to when Dakota talks about cutting through the Mesozoic in First Impressions and the fact it is illogical, Dan says this is likely just Dakota being Dakota (aka, it was a mistake), and not every such line should be taken serious.

In a deleted "Snow Way Out" line it was confirmed that the raccoon in Going the Extra Milo and Fungus Among Us is recurring raccoon.

Brick and Savannah were going to have a role in the crossover.

Story ideas from the MML pitch bible that never came to include a beach episode, a Friday the 13 episode, and an episode where Cavendish and Dakota try convincing Milo to take a self defense class leading to conflict with a hidden ninja gang.

For unspecified characters (probably multiple different sets) Pruett wrote in hugs that were cut by (mostly) Dan. In response, he says he "put 4 in so at least 1 stays."

S3 would have likely included: A third Block (yes, still voiced by Mark Hamill and a Block "family meeting"), Milo creating the universe, Dakota and Cavendish getting the promotion they wanted but being unsatisfied, Elliot cleverly being connected to the overarching plot, AU exploration (akin to pnf) including an episode where Dr Zone is real, and a conclusion to the Prof Time arc. The overarching plot would have been the "biggest yet."

credits to: danvillecheese for suggestions + encouragement, cheetochild989 for facts the fact about going to the zoo and a world without milo, the 2nd dimension on YouTube, my hamsterward friends, and of course all the talented people who worked on MML :3

[sisternightroad]

Lady Oscar's flaws and weaknesses

In case someone is interested, I've written in an italian blog a small analysis of Oscar from Rose of Versailles, so I've translated it to post it here too.

Thank you for the dive into the past. To give some context, I primarily base myself on the manga because it is the original medium and, as almost always, the most complete. The original Oscar is very different from that of the anime, because the latter makes different narrative choices from the beginning. Among other things, since Oscar is not born as a protagonist but as a sidekick to Marie Antoinette, her character is initially less deep and set up differently.

Moreover, the anime has a predominantly dark and dramatic tone, but the contents have been overall very softened, especially in the edition with Italian dubbing, while the manga alternates comic moments with moments of great tragedy and violence, even very brutal for a shojo of the time. But let’s cut to the chase:

From the beginning, Oscar is characterized as a tomboy, which serves as a recurring comic element in the story. Even at the time of her birth, her father mistakes her for a boy because she screams and thrashes about like a little boy.

[Oscar’s birth in volume 1 and a comic callback in volume 6]

Despite her refined and elegant appearance, she often behaves in a decidedly rude manner, spits and swears. In her character profile, the author emphasizes that she always behaves like a man and loves weapons, alcohol, occasionally going to drink in the commoners bars and that her flaw is that she is ready to start a fight.

[A snippet of Oscar’s profile and a brawl from volume 3]

Another thing went a bit lost among the transpositions is that Oscar is a huge troll. She often behaves in a brazen and insolent way to mock scandals, pettiness and gossip of court life. The funniest example is when her father wants her to organize a ball to find a husband, in the anime criminally reduced to an innocent scene. General Jarjayes asks her to commission a dress from the best tailor in Paris and Oscar shows up at the ball with a flashy dress uniform complete with bell-bottom pants in '70s style. To complete the work, she spends the evening dancing and flirting with her throng of admirers, even kissing two and threatening to duel a guy she stole the girlfriend from. Priceless.

[Lady Oscar happily trolling her father and her suitor Girodelle who, along with the other contenders, despair in the background in volume 6]

Moving on to more serious matters, in both versions Oscar is notoriously cool and detached, but in the manga she is less fickle, impulsive and reckless. She tends to be a risk-taker, but most of the time the risks she takes are calculated or at least justified. One of the first big examples is when she threatens Madame du Barry with her sword for trying to frame Oscar’s mother for the poisoning of a maid. In this case, she draws her sword in defense of her mother to scare du Barry, because she knows even the countess may not want it to be known what happened.

[Oscar threatens Countess du Barry with her sword in volume 2]

In addition, beneath her cold exterior, she often shows herself to be emotional and quick-tempered, characteristics that come out especially during the most dramatic moments, such as the killing of the child by the Duke of Guémené, when the black knight injures André’s eye or the soldiers of the French guard want to push her to punish them.

[Oscar getting furious about the extravagances orchestrated by the Duchess de Polignac in volume 4]

In the manga, Oscar does not live her military career as an imposition, but rather as a source of pride. Also for this reason, she shows from a very young age to be competitive, ambitious and even a bit arrogant. In fact, she is the one who personally requests the assignments of the capture of Jeanne de Valois or the arrest of the black knight, thanks to which she reaches the rank of brigadier general and, if she had not let the latter escape, she would have advanced at least one more rank. Moreover, in the comic she decides to join the French guard not to get away from Fersen, but to prove that she can make it even outside the privileged environment of the royal guard.

[An adorable little Oscar who already thinks big in volume 1]

Since Oscar, like all nobles, has always lived a privileged and protected existence, especially at the beginning she is naive and ignorant about the conditions of the world and the people around her. It is also for this reason that she is sometimes excessively indulgent towards Marie Antoinette and tends not to take into account André’s feelings for her, even though she knows he loves her.

[A moment of tragic realization on Oscar’s part in volume 5]

Finally, Oscar has an ambivalent relationship towards her femininity. While this does not represent a flaw in itself, it remains one of her major weaknesses that makes her suffer and rends her very vulnerable. While she is in every way a woman, she occupies a place that in a very rigid and hierarchical society is traditionally reserved for men and she wants to be treated like a man. For this reason, she often shows to consider feelings as something exclusively feminine to reject. This side of her identity cracks when Oscar’s expectations and desires as a woman and those as a soldier clash with each other, such as when she falls in love with Fersen and for the first time in her life she dresses as a woman for him or when her father wants to push her to retire from the army and marry Girodelle. This would force her in each case to give up an important part of her life and identity. Only at the end does she understand, after André dies and she stays by his side instead of returning immediately to the battlefield, in the scene that I find the most touching in the manga, that her feelings do not make her a “woman”, but human.

[Oscar crying over André’s death in volume 8, much better than that crap of episode 39]

I want to close by saying that this is a manga and a character that I love very much also and especially for its shortcomings and very human imperfections. It is these gaps that push her to mature beyond the boundaries of her golden cage and to break down the social and personal barriers that prevent her from living her life not simply as a man or a woman but as herself.

It is by navigating her complex and difficult feelings, touching firsthand the despair of ordinary people and gaining the respect of her rebellious subordinates that she understands that she is only a small cog in the great wheel of History and thus comes to choose which side of it she really wants to be on.

[pruneunfair]

My feelings on, part 11: This isekai maid is forming a union and why it is the best otome isekai I have ever read.

SPOILERS: DO NOT READ BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS COMIC YOUSELF.

The very first canvas webtoon I've done a review on and it is one of my favorites as well 😊

This story as the name implies, is from the perspective of a maid named Bridgette who has been reincarnated multiple times but always as a maid in another OI leads story who is now looking to start a union for workers rights.

Already it has a very unique version of the typical isekai genre, instead of Bridgette dying in the real world to get into the fantasy realm of Teffrah, she is actually still alive. The Bridgette we see is actually another version of her who also possesses her memories of all the crappy otome isekai she read. A really unique aspect for an isekai.

The plot itself starts off calling out gross OI tropes for what they are such as but not limited to: Work place abuse, (Maids in OI are typically threatened and slapped to keep them in line) toxic male leads, romance involving a slave and their master, racist caricatures of POC often found in OI (POC are usually written as savages in OI) etc. This really helps set the ground not only of what makes this comic different from others of the same genre but also establishes the refreshing feeling of knowing you aren't alone when you thought these tropes were disgusting and everyone else just excused it.

But a plot can't substain itself solely on social commentary can it? Well no, it really can't unless it's a pretty short series which is why isekai maid union brings more to the table. Characters besides Bridgette have their stories, traits, backgrounds and character arcs. You got some of Bridgettes friends like Marina, whose past as a former student in a magic academy explain her possession of magic rocks and Shellie who was originally the typical cheerleader maid who gained her own personality.

World building

The world building itself is also great. The previous lives of Bridgette aren't just examples of workplace abuse, they also play a role into the present setting. Some of the most important outside of the current story being "The wicked woman delivers" and "The rain falls gently on the villainess" Two stories within the universe that I'm pretty sure we're inspired by the more problematic aspects of the popular villains are destined to die.

Wicked woman delivers explains the backstory of one of the antagonists of the comic, Phobe, a reincarnator whose ignorance evolved into total toxicity, getting her and her tyrant husband overthrown.

And The rain falls gently on the villainess straight up disses villains are destined to die for its most problematic subject: Penelope buying and abusing a slave. In this version, it was a woman named Eriadne but I swear she's inspired by Penelope. This plot point ends up playing a role into Geralt and his daughter, Nora's (a supporting character) story.

Side note: I may enjoy reading villains are destined to die but only because I'm reading from the perspective of Penelope being an awful person, she did not deserve to become an empress in the end after what she did even if Eckles was written with Stockholm syndrome. It always bugged me how the fanbase continues to baby Penelope for having a side backstory as if that justified owning another human being so seeing a popular comic actually call this out proved I wasn't just being sensitive.

Finally there's the actual use of magic in the series, in many OI, there is typically a fantasy element in the form of mages and magic that unfortunately ends up being pushed to the side in favor of romance, sometimes to the point where the book forgets about the magic aspect entirely, here, magic is not only remembered but a key ingredient to the plot, not just in the stones Marina sells to other maids but also in fast travel and of course, in gemeter. The rules of said magic can be a little hard to comprehend without reading over and over a few times but it's just something that makes me happy when the fantasy aspect of a romance fantasy is remembered.

The villains

Even the wicked nobles are given more depth outside of being evil. This comic takes the lesson of OI writing maids as evil and lazy and uses that as what not to do when writing the antagonists.

Lord Demeter is the personification of a toxic male lead with pretty privilege. He does have a background that explains his behavior but it doesn't justify him literally murdering several servants just to prove how broken he is. Several chapters are dedicated to him and a green stone-version of him affectionately nick named "Gemeter" which, while they still prove he is no good person, it's still nice to see more then just a toxic man. He's got other traits just like any human being.

Phobe is everything I despise about certain OI leads and boy does she succeed at pissing me off but there are still some sense of morals in there such as being genuinely pissed when she discovers her desert company is using inedible ingredients in the cookies. This doesn't serve to make her look good but simply to add more to her other then a purple haired Karen. She can be a bitch and still care about the integrity of her buisness.

What about the other nobles?

One complaint I hear all the time about this comic is how it supposedly makes all OI protagonists look bad by over exaggerating their willingness to slap a maid.

First of all: OI literally do the same thing by villainizing maids as people who would purposely serve you raw steak with tiny utensils.

Second of all: Thats actually not the case.

While most other non-antagobist nobles range from not caring about the staff to straight up finding them revolting, they still have chatacter development, the best example being Iseul or more commonly called by her new name as a reincarnated noble woman: Annette, who grew from being a typical maid slapping asshole to someone who felt genuine empathy for the people she hurt, now she is her own person with her own story just like everyone else.

Any critiques?

One thing all of us need to accept is that no story is absolutely perfect, there will always be flaws to be seen by someone but if anything, the only big flaw I saw in isekai maid union was that it actually takes a long time for the whole "union" to actually happen, this was admitted by the author who apologized for the wait and promised it for the final season (I think, I could be wrong) so I'm all good here.

Conclusion:

The story is phenomenal but not just because it's meta, it takes the issues we all have about problematic tropes in OI and turns them into a cohesive narrative, something that can be enjoyed by almost everyone and I'm glad it's getting so much recognition finally 😊

And for once, I'm glad to actually make something more positive for once after a little while.

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 27 | Your Happy Ending Too

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

It happened again. Yet another slew of dreams of past lives would enter her thoughts and fester there. She would see Satoru’s face, his smile, his eyes… and she would see her own death. Like a movie playing in slow-mo. And lately, these deaths have become clearer in her mind.

Some deaths were caused by people she couldn’t even remember the names of, but most of the time… almost every single time… her death would come at the hands of Satoru. Sukuna sometimes follows the same pattern.

She ached to talk to Satoru about this, but she always got this weird feeling in her gut anytime she wanted to mention it. Like something or someone was going to snap at her. Should she ask-?

“Your face is all scrunchy again,” Gojo chuckled as he squished her cheeks. Tonight was movie night at his place. her back was to his chest as she sat in his lap on his couch. A warm blanket covering them both as a movie played in the background.

“Sorry… just thinking.”

“About what?”

That was another thing she noticed. Much like the other lives, this Gojo was just as pushy and inquisitive. It was as if he needed to know everything about her at all times. Or, at least, that was the feeling that he gave off.

“It’s about my, well, our past lives…”

She felt his hands fall from her face and fall to her waist. She could already feel how his arms slowly started to tighten like a vice to keep her where she sat in his lap.

“What about them?”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, she could feel how her heart hammered in her chest, but she steadied herself as much as possible.

“My deaths.”

“Your deaths?”

She nodded, “more specifically… how you were the one who would kill me most of the time.”

She waited for him to say something, anything really, but what surprised her the most was when he started to laugh. His chest rumbled against her back before he leant forward. His chin resting on her shoulder as his eyes would peek up at her.

“So you remembered after all.”

“And you remembered all this time.”

He hummed in response as he nuzzled his face into her neck, “you know, I don’t know why it was only ever me who remembered our lives together. I always thought it was a curse because it meant that I was the only one looking for you in each life.”

He kissed her cheek before easily lifting her and maneuvering her so that she was facing him in his lap, her legs straddling his waist.

“And imagine my surprise when you finally started to remember. I was ecstatic at first. Until I realized the potential of you remembering your deaths…”

“Why did you do it…”

“Do what?”

“Kill me like that… kill me so often?”

“Cause it was never the right life. It wasn’t our happy ending.”

She frowned at his words as she placed her hands against his chest to push herself away a little. She needed space. Space away from him.

“Our happy ending?”

“We were always meant to be. You and me. But things kept getting in the way. Not like it mattered though. I was determined to get my happy ending with you. No matter how many lives we lived, I would always find you.”

“And how about now?”

“What about it?”

He gripped her wrists and pulled her close, her lips barely brushing against his.

“Now that I remember, you won’t get that happy ending.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?”

“Because I know and remember all that you did.”

He hummed again before smiling that same grin that she always seemed to love. A part of herself couldn’t believe what was happening. The sister school exchange event was right around the corner, Itadori was almost finished with his training, and she … she just had to open her mouth about the memories that have been filtering into her dreams.

She almost wanted to kiss him and make this night end.

“That… is not going to stop me from having a happy ending with you. Starting over would be a waste, especially since we’re in a perfect part of our lives right now, and the fact that I have you right where I want you. And honestly, if you truly hated me, you would be trying to get away right about now, wouldn’t you?”

He let his hand trail to the back of her neck, “and even if somehow, someway either of us die in this new life… I’ll just look for you in the next. My happy ending begins with you, and these lives will continue until you see that I’m your happy ending too.”

[scoupsakakitty]

Chapter 6: Fading Ties

The concert in Japan was a success. The crowd’s energy was electric, the lights dazzling, and the adrenaline still lingered even after the final bow. But beneath all the excitement, something else buzzed in the background an undercurrent, subtle but impossible to ignore.

The tension between y/n and Scoups had shifted. It wasn’t just casual glances anymore or brief moments during rehearsals. It was there on stage in the way they gravitated toward each other without realizing it, standing side by side more often than usual, sharing quick, knowing looks between songs.

Scoups could feel it, a pull he didn’t understand but couldn’t resist. The warmth of her presence beside him, the way her laughter lingered in his mind even as the crowd roared around them it was addictive.

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

----------------------------------------------------------------Later that evening, after the concert, Dino decided it was time to stir the pot a little.

The three of them had planned to do a live stream for the fans, but y/n had gone to freshen up, leaving Dino alone with Scoups in the hotel suite. The perfect opportunity.

Dino leaned back on the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone, then glanced at Scoups. “Y’know,” he started casually, “I still don’t get how y/n’s dealing with that Se-Hun guy. He’s kind of an ass, isn’t he?”

Scoups didn’t even hesitate. “He is an ass,” he snapped, his jaw tightening slightly. “She deserves better.”

Dino smirked inwardly, sensing the slight edge in Scoups’ voice. He decided to push a little further.

“Yeah, I mean… what kind of guy ignores his girlfriend like that? If I had someone like y/n, I wouldn’t even think about anyone else.” His tone was light, almost teasing, but his eyes flicked to Scoups, waiting.

Scoups clenched his jaw, staring at his phone without really seeing it. “Exactly. He doesn’t appreciate her. She’s—” He cut himself off, shaking his head like he’d said too much.

Dino raised an eyebrow. “She’s… what?”

Scoups didn’t answer. But the flicker of something frustration? jealousy?—was there. Clear as day.

Before Dino could press further, the door opened, and y/n walked in, fresh from the shower. Her damp hair framed her face, and she was in comfortable clothes, her usual stage makeup gone, replaced by the natural softness Dino had seen a million times.

But this time, Scoups saw it differently.

His eyes lingered for a second too long, his breath catching slightly before he forced himself to look away.

“Ready?” y/n asked, oblivious to the tension that had filled the room moments before.

“Yeah,” Dino replied quickly, grinning as he grabbed his phone to start the live.

The live stream was going smoothly. Fans flooded the chat with comments some funny, some random, and some filled with endless heart emojis. Dino was reading a few out loud, laughing at the playful questions, while Scoups casually scrolled through his phone, pretending not to be as entertained as he actually was.

Y/n sat comfortably to his right, her damp hair falling softly over her shoulders, face fresh and makeup-free. She looked relaxed, her usual vibrant energy dimmed just enough to show a softer, calmer version of herself.

Dino chuckled at a comment, nudging Scoups. “Hey, listen to this one ‘Scoups, you’re the best leader for protecting y/n at the airport!’”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “They really notice everything, huh?”

The chat exploded with more comments. One in particular caught Dino’s eye just as Scoups leaned in slightly to read along.

“Y/n looks so beautiful without makeup. Natural beauty hits different!”

It was meant as a sweet compliment, but something shifted in that moment.

Scoups glanced at y/n just a quick look, nothing unusual. But then his gaze didn’t move.

For a brief second, everything around him seemed to fade the bright hotel lights, the sound of Dino’s voice, even the scrolling sea of fan comments.

It was like the world pressed pause.

He didn’t just look at her; he saw her. The way the soft lighting highlighted the gentle curve of her cheekbone, the relaxed smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the effortless warmth she carried even in complete simplicity.

And in that fragile, fleeting second, his heart felt too loud in his chest.

But Dino noticed.

Without missing a beat still laughing at the comments as if nothing was off—he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against Scoups’ leg under the table. Then, casually, he pressed his hand firmly on Scoups’ thigh.

Just enough to snap him back.

Scoups blinked, the spell breaking. His eyes darted away immediately, his face blank as if nothing had happened, though his ears flushed with the faintest pink.

Dino didn’t say a word about it. He just kept the conversation flowing, his grin a little wider now like he’d just uncovered a secret only he knew.

And Scoups?

He didn’t dare look back at y/n for the rest of the live.

But her face stayed etched in his mind anyway.

But her smile faded when her phone buzzed with a new message.

She glanced at the screen, expecting something normal maybe a text from a friend. But her heart dropped.

An unknown number.

A photo.

Se-Hun.

With the same girl.

Not at a study session this time.

At a party.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, her jaw clenching as anger surged through her like a wave. Not sadness rage.

Without a word, she stood up abruptly.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dino asked, surprised.

“Sorry,” y/n mumbled, her voice tight. “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a response, ignoring their confused looks as she grabbed her phone and left the room.

Her hands trembled as she tried calling Se-Hun. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

She stared at the photo again, her blood boiling.

How could I be so stupid? she thought, pacing the small hotel room she’d retreated to. How did I let this happen?

She wasn’t heartbroken. Not anymore.

She was furious.

At him.

At herself.

At the lies she’d believed, the excuses she’d accepted.

She called again. Nothing.

The next day, they’d be flying back to Korea. And when she got there, she’d find him. Not to beg or cry.

She just needed one thing—

Closure.

To look him in the eye and tell him exactly what he’d done.

And then she’d be done.

For good.

Small Reminder: Mistakes are just steps on your journey of growth. Be proud of your progress. 🌙

[crimsoncold]

Jonsa Fairytale AU (True Love's Kiss) by @crimsoncold

If you must mourn, my love Mourn with the moon and the stars up above If you must mourn Don't do it alone

...

If you must die, sweetheart Die knowing your life was my life's best part If you must die Remember your life

-Keaton Henson, You

For a while l've been considering doing a Fairytale inspired jonsa AU but was never able to make up my mind in terms of which specific fairytale I wanted to base my art piece around (i could of course just do multiple ones but with already so many WIPs i didn't want to plan to add several more into my art rotation) so unable to make a decision I set the idea aside to work on other more concrete art ideas.

Then of course I saw the prompts for the Jonsa Valentine 2025 event, and it really did seem like the world itself was encouraging me to make a fairytale jonsa art piece.

This time I chose to avoid basing it on one specific fairytale and instead considered more general fairytale tropes that are found across many tales when I was brainstorming ideas on what I would make for this prompt.

In the end I decided to use the trope of True Love's Kiss (i.e. A kiss imbued with it's own sort of magic, able to break a curse, or even bring someone back from literal death) both because I thought it would be visually interesting and because I felt it would incorporate several elements of asoiaf/got canon.

(i.e. both the inherent romanticism of Jon and Sansa's personalities and storylines as well as specific events like Jon's tragic "death" and his later resurrection as well as the likely possibility of Sansa being the girl in grey fleeing north to be reunited with her "brother")

As for the related quote, I had been struggling to pick one as most of my possible choices, while admittedly poignant and romantic, felt very specific to either Jon or to Sansa in this art piece rather than being about the two of them together, so I'm actually really pleased with my final choice (lyrics from Keaton Henson's song You) as it feels like it had segments that represent the differing perspectives/wishes of both Jon and Sansa in this scenario.

I was pushing hard to have this finished in time (with the event being about a month a way when I first started this) and even though it ended up taking me a lot more time than I had hoped, I am happy with my decision to make two versions of this artwork as i feel the most satisfying element and impactful part of this fairytale trope is in the profound transformation it can create, and to do this justice I really felt I needed a before and after version of Sansa's Kiss being what brings Jon back from the dead.

Anyway thats about all the background info I'd like to dump on you about this piece so l'll end this on a thank you; specifically thank you to anyone who found, liked, or shared this piece and/or bothered to read my rambling thoughts about making this, as well as a thank you to everyone in this fandom who arranged and/or participated in this event!

Being part of a small but so dedicated fandom is just the sort of thing that makes me happy when everything else around me starts to feel harsh and distressing. I hope you all have a wonderful day and that everyone feels inspired to keep making and sharing all sorts of art and creative pieces for this fandom- it seems a very small thing in the scope of everything happening in the world and our lives but its still something that brings some much needed joy that I think many (especially myself) greatly value while also forgetting or struggling to actually find a way to adequately express our appreciation... so this is just my attempt to say thank you all for making this little slice of fandom so wonderful!

-Crimson Cold

[what-eats-owls]

It matters how you do it

I finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard and had some big feelings about it. Spoilers for basically everything under the cut, and frankly, it won't make sense unless you've finished the game anyway.

First of all: I had a blast with this game. I didn't find Act 1 slow, I did find Act 2 a bit of a whack-a-mole, and then Act 3 kicks you in the kidney (complementary) while insisting it's for your own good.

I've seen some recurring complaints: that it lacks depth/edge/darkness, that it abandons previous lore, that the previous choices don't matter. I don't entirely disagree. To me, it felt like a massive Dragon Age 4 game that pivoted to a different, tighter game after complaints about bloat in Inquisition. The key is that when editing down, there's such a thing as trying to trim the fat and taking a chunk of the roast with it.

I enjoy the concept of Lucanis's character, and the voice actor sold the hell out of him, but the storyline felt like being taken to a museum and allowed to see one (1) beautiful unfinished sculpture. Why did Spite, specifically, work? We know the spirit of Justice became Vengeance by abomination, we knew Solas was Wisdom before he became Pride, so what was Spite before, and why wasn't that tied to Lucanis's own personal arc? (Doubly so if you romance him!)

Similarly, Harding was a delight, and her greenhouse was such a lovely little haven. I would have loved to see more explanation of the connection between plants and the titans, and how Harding's own personal struggles with rage connected to that of the titans. She has every reason to be angry and scared, and the game tells us she pushed that away—but we don't actually see her toxic positivity manifest to that degree, until she abruptly has an angry clone.

On the flip side, I loved the other five character quests, and I felt they had solid, poignant arcs that delivered. I also adored their interactions with the codex—if anything, I wanted to see more of that type of interaction on the screen. You have to fill in a lot of the character work for Rook yourself; Rook has all these interesting potential backgrounds, but I think starting the game playing through those, a la Origins, would have gone miles towards establishing more personal stakes up front and made for a stronger start.

So that's all my nitpicking. But let's talk about the bigger theme: It matters how you do it.

In the first Fade conversation with Solas, he gets so mad when Rook refuses to let him DARVO them about the consequences of his botched ritual. This makes way more sense when you understand he's literally imprisoned by his own regrets, and he needs Rook to have that same kind of regret in order to take his place. His entire arc is about rationalizing binary choices and shitty actions that hurt others in the name of a hypothetical greater good that he wants.

Solas can't engineer every binary choice Rook's forced into, but he uses Varric to maximize Rook's regret. He is trying to quite literally mold Rook into him, and the game is great at presenting this both as a coldblooded manipulation and a broken plea for validation—if you let it. You don't have to give Solas a moment of consideration; you don't have to take time to view his memories, or kill his demons, or listen to those scraps of Mythal still holding onto the good in him. You don't have to do any of it.

But you can. And in the end, it matters.

It matters because for every companion, you can encourage them to either be more nurturing/compassionate or destructive/closed off versions of themselves, and that is frequently tied to continuing or breaking from a cycle. (The exception is either Neve or, presumably, Lucanis, who are forced into the Hardened version depending on which city you save.) These aren't presented as morally opposing choices, just who you want them to be. You can see how the Grey Wardens fucked up bad with griffons and decide they have a better place. You can help Emmrich face his fear by finding deeper meaning in life instead of indefinitely postponing death. You can help them do things differently.

So when you get to the final choice in the game, you may have two options: physically force Solas into saving the Veil, or trick him into it. The kind of binary choice Solas has molded you into making by pelting you with cruelty and manipulation.

Or, if you've taken the time, you can get him to understand he's wrong. You bring out the people who saw the best in him and speak to what he's had to endure, even as you're showing him there's another way. You reach him not as Pride, but as Wisdom. And he goes willingly.

Ultimately, I think DA2 and Inquisition grappled with big questions of oppression and violence, faith and authority. It makes sense for those games to delve into harder, uglier subject matter, and ask you to make binary calls.

But my read of Veilguard is that, at its core, it's about how those decisions are meant to trap you in regret at best, and numb you to rationalizing cruelty at worst. It's why the companion who loses their home city becomes colder, more isolated, in response—more like Solas.

That's why it offers you a third way at the very end, but only if you've worked for it. A better way is possible, yet it has to be more than words. You have to understand where the pain comes from, what maintains and is being maintained by the current cycle. Then, and only then, can you break it.

I can't wait to play it again.

P.S. Utterly obsessed with the Trevisan fish merchant.

[xxcherrydevilxx]

Liquid Courage

Pairing & Fandom: Female Lavellan x Solas -Dragon Age Word count: 3,238 Warnings - slight lewd descriptions, otherwise pretty fluffy Summary

Solas keeps denying poor Lavellan's advances after settling into Skyhold, and she is getting a bit tired of it. A night drinking then stumbling into his sad little corner might be the push she needs to finally stop dancing around the question and just ask it, and also admit to herself that she is hopelessly in love despite trying not to be.

Author Notes: More brainrot on my lavellan, just reposting this to my Tumblr so the terminal illness can be seen by everyone everywhere for all time. Not fully proofread, several errors here and there but tada! Banner used below is by CafeKitsune!

“It's sad, he makes me sad when I look at him,” Lumine Lavellan grumbled beside Varric. He snorted as he continued to write down words in a letter, shaking his head lightly at Lumine’s glum expression. They had just settled into Skyhold and he was getting together some notes for his companions in Kirkwall. The casual “No I didn’t die,” and “Yes I’m staying with the Inquisition for a bit longer,” 

“That's curiosity, Charmer,” Varric replied with another swish of his quill against parchment and a flourish of gathering ink to begin yet another letter.

“No- well, perhaps, back at Haven…” She mumbles to herself. She was still half-slouched half-stood at the table beside her dwarf companion. He inclined his head to her, continuing to listen to her chatter. The background noise of Lumine was becoming his favorite sound in Skyhold. 

“But when he led us here, told me things about our people, I really started to wonder… he's alone, yet still so wise? How? Who taught him? What more does he know that he does not share and why-” she heaved a dramatic sigh, making his stack of papers flutter slightly but not become disarray. “-why he never joins us at the tavern, am I bad company, Varric? I think everyone pretty much likes me, I know he enjoys me when we discuss trivial things here and there- yet he never takes up my invitation for a drink?”

Varric pressed a hand to the back of his neck and let out another laugh at the poor young elf’s questions. He had to tell Hawke about this, it reminded him of her, in a strange way.

“Yes, Charmer, you are horrible company—that's why half of Skyhold follows your every flippant whim. " She shoved her shoulder into his playfully, making his quill slip and the letter he had almost finished being swallowed by ink with no intent. He pushed her back jokingly as he stood to fix her mess. 

Really. She was just Hawke but in a different coat of paint. Perhaps more charming too, less prone to fighting as well. 

“I'm gonna try again Varric, maybe he’ll play Wicked Grace with us and I will be able to make him let down that icy guard of his,” She began, with new reckless stubbornness. Nobody ever said no to her, especially not the men. Varric had purposefully watched when she charmed Curly, the sight was something to behold. The poor boy, a stuttering mess, and a devilish elf just smiling at him. Then there was The Iron Bull, those two took fast to flirting with one another on the battlefield. Some of the things so salacious he had noted to write it down in his next book, Maker, it felt as if those two were trying to win a battle or something with the sly comments they gave one another. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can woo Chuckles after you help me clean up your mess. " Somehow, when Varric uttered those words, the spilled ink and ruined parchment suddenly disappeared and were replaced with fresh and clean versions of both. Huh. Noted.

“I appreciate your invitation, but I must decline once again. I am… studying some things,” Solas rejected her yet again, which made her lean against one of the walls that he had yet to paint. Why was he so stubborn? She knew he liked her—or well, he did. They flirted well enough at Haven. What's so different with Skyhold? 

“Oh? Like what! Tell me about it, I like hearing about your studies and things,” she quipped, trying to keep him talking for as long as she could. She knew once he stopped they both would recede into different spaces. She would head to the tavern, drink ale and flirt with Bull for fun, cheat at cards with Varric, and be unabashedly herself for a few short hours before she had to be “inquisitor” again. 

It reminded her of when she was shuffled between clans to become the First to clan Lavellen, oh how she had to fold into herself there too. Do not run off, do not explore, pay attention, do not speak with humans, your magic is unchecked, blah blah blah. 

Perhaps that's why she desperately wanted for Solas to join her, to see her outside of her inquisitor persona and the real her. He had caught glimpses, she was not as subtle with her personality, never was as her Keeper would confirm. Her flippant attitude to certain problems, her joy in parties and victories, her defiance against the idea that mages were “unsafe”. That still wasn’t enough, she wanted him to know her and in turn, her know him. He was interesting, he reminded her of a Keeper she would actually follow, a Keeper who was actually wise. She found herself seeking his guidance, relishing in their talks, and learning far more than ever before… And perhaps when he spoke of how fascinating it would be to see her dominated it sent shivers down her spine and made her begin thinking about the sage elf differently. 

“I could not keep the inquisitor away from her companions, the work would bore you either way,”  He evaded smoothly, making a turn to look over a book that was sprawled on his desk. She pushed herself off the wall and walked forward, craning her head over his shoulder to peer at the text- ugh, she didn’t understand a lick of it from her quick glance. Yet she did enjoy seeing the spooked expression on Solas’s face as he stepped away. 

“Inquisitor, I assure you its-”

“Lumine, call me Lumine,” She beamed, swaying her hips slightly as she watched him squirm under her gaze. He leaned against his desk, inching farther away as she stood in front of him, blocking an easy escape. Yet, he did not make to push past her, how curious.

“...Inquisitor Lumine, please, do not worry about me, I enjoy my time here,” he spoke curtly, and she scoffed, stepping back and walking towards the door. Perhaps that was a bit mean, well, more so than mean. He had just gotten under her skin so terribly bad. 

“Right, of course, If the ale doesn’t make me pass out I shall find you again, Solas,” She called over her shoulder, she gave him a toothy grin as she did. She wasn’t someone who gave up on others, especially one that looked so… alone in that rotunda he called his own. Also, she never gave up on someone who didn’t trip at her feet. 

Perhaps he had divulged himself too much with his simple flirting and long looks. The strange, yet charming elf, Lavellen, had sunk her teeth into him and refused to let go despite his constant backwalking on past discussions. He thought after a few days of his somber and humble ploy she would saunter off to find another man to set her sights on. For a short while, he thought he was succeeding, until her incessant pestering about catching a drink or playing cards. He was amused by her, flattered even- despite wishing not to be and had not harshly rejected her. He enjoyed her confident walk into the rotunda, the pout after a soft refusal, and her walking away to lick her wounds. 

Yes, he enjoyed the game. He enjoyed seeing her eyes light thinking she might have won, then smoldering the flame with another shake of his head. How he enjoyed watching her new ideas and antics, her walk away with a pang of hunger.

Yet he shouldn’t, which is why he keeps denying her advances to the best of his abilities. He had something much more serious to do than devour Lavellan because of his foolish desire. He needed to stop watching the sway of her hips and the way she licked her lips when she ate honeyed treats. He had fleeting thoughts of how they would taste if instead, he licked them clean. How she would tremble and gasp against him-

Right. Focus. He could not be that man. She would find someone else, there were plenty of them lining up that she only bolstered with her teasing. Which is why, when she stumbled into the rotunda long past when the moon had risen, her skin flushed pink and her hair a mess, well- he just had to make sure she was okay, of course. Yes. it was important to confirm the inquisitor did not drink too much. He was just doing the humble apostate mage thing of leading her by the arm over to his couch and helping her lay down. 

The ale flowed plentifully, she had tipped her drink back to nothing so many times during the night that Josephine would most definitely need to place new orders for more drinks. How she stumbled up Skyhold’s steps and into the rotunda where her favorite elf would be is nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps she was Andraste’s chosen, for that's the only fathomable reason she didn’t fall on her face when she ascended the first step.

She must say though, seeing the bewildered look of a man deep in thought, the man she desired, who all but pushed aside his work to stride to her side and take her by the arm. 

“Inquisitor-” he began. His voice was rough from not using it for several hours. How she loved the sound, it would sound better if he called her name instead, though.

“Lumine” she slurred to correct him. Hoping to win hearing the syllables slip off his tongue with that gruff and tired voice of his.

“Lumine,” she won. Lovely, the sound struck her heart true and she leaned into him. Smelling the scent of ink, paper, and elfroot on his clothes. She let herself be led by him, perhaps because it gave her more of an excuse to practically nuzzle her way into his chest and then was laid down on the couch that sat in the otherwise sparse space. Her ale-addled mind had several pleasing thoughts of how this would continue, his walking away was not one of them. 

She sputtered to call after him, trying to lean up but the whooshing sound of blood in her ears and the spinning of the already very round room made her fall back down.

Oh, rotunda, round, of course. Did she truly only drink ale tonight?

“I’ll acquire you some water, Lumine,” Hearing her name again on his tongue, without that stupid title, made her relax back onto the sofa with a content sigh. Fine, so be it, let him grab her some water.

She dozed as she waited, her eyes closing and opening languidly as she took in the veilfire that lit the space. She found her eyes wandering in wonder at the paintings he had done in their time here. Perhaps she could ask him to give her lessons, another way to get more time with him and slip past his defenses. She heard the door click close and soon, there he was. She should make stopping by his room drunk a habit if it meant he doted on her. 

“Why, thank you my dear apostate.” She said, her voice intoxicatingly sweet. He sat the water beside her as he smoothed the hair off her brow. 

Yes, this shall become a habit of hers. 

“It's the least I can do Lumine… How much did you drink exactly?” he asked, his hand slowly sliding away and into his lap where he folded them together- so composed. 

“Cups!” she beamed, her voice echoing off the walls and up to wake some of the sleeping crows. He gave her a wry smile and sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Why, yes Lumine, cups,” He joked back to her. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, she saw his sharp canine and felt a sudden flip of her stomach. Was it the drink or the butterflies? Both? Something else?

“Wolfish,” She whispered. She grinned up at the shock that wove across his face. Yes, she was great at this teasing thing even when drunk. At least she knew she still had that effect on him, she was worried truth be told. 

“Wolfish and tricky,” she continued. Elated to see the way he shook his head with a bemused expression. She agreed with both her declarations, only now finding the right words to place what he reminded her of. She probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning, how sad she had finally placed the big mystery and she wouldn’t even remember. Perhaps she should write a note down for herself to remember. 

“I hope those are compliments, inquisitor,” she groaned at the usage of her stupid title once again. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she pursed her lips, hadn’t they worked past that?

“Please, I beg you, just call me my name, every blasted person in here calls me inquisitor,” she whined, her annoyances at these past few months bubbling up from their hiding place. Maker, she was so tired of it all, how much longer would she have to play yet another act of who the people around her supposed she was? When could she abandon the titles for her own name?

“I am not inquisitor, I am not the First, and I am not a knife-eared mage, I am Lumine Lavellen- witty and charming and whatever other positive words I cannot think of at this moment.” She declared. Yet again making his eyes crinkle and a smile tug at his lips. A shudder of a laugh shook his body as she pouted. Did he find this funny? How rude, she was dead serious. 

“Do not laugh, I forbid it, you are a tricky man to get to do anything, did you know? I have been poking and prodding you to come out of that shell of yours,” She babbled on, her train of thought leaving the first thought and jumping to the next as she did. The liquid courage flowing through her veins only allowed her to speak more directly to the apostate sitting beside her. 

“You- you do make your intentions noted,” He chuckled, looking away from her as his grip on his folded hands tightened. He was as taut as a bow, why? What had him on the defense so terribly as if he would leap away? 

“Well, that's good, I thought my charm had dulled since Haven,” She grumbled, making a move to grab the water and almost tipping the cup over. He practically leaped at the ability to help her, holding the cup for her as she sipped from it. Still, his eyes still seemed to betray his composure. A storm seemed to brew inside of them, and it made her choke on the water that slipped past her lips. 

“That's quite impossible, Lumine, you’ve charmed all of the inquisition and half of the Hinterlands, I am no fool to your guile,” He said, his voice low and still carrying edges of roughness from little use during the night. Yet again, her stomach flipped and she felt her skin heat from her face to the tip of her ears. 

“Yet you deny my charm, is there- did I misread?” she rushed out, leaning on her elbows and tipping her head closer to him. He tipped back as if getting too close to her could hurt him. Yet she waited, out of spite or fear or something else… She waited to hear his answer.

And that answer took a long time to form, as his eyes flicked back and forth between her and the door. 

“You… You did not misread, I just- well, I think… I do not want to distract you from your duties,” He had finally spoken after he gathered his thoughts. She snorted, duties? Can’t he see that's what she wants him to be? A distraction, something to remind her she was still her underneath the heavy weight of saving the world. 

She didn’t let her mind wander to the much more dangerous underlying factor that she, in fact, had a crush. It was sickening and she had never gotten one like this before, and well- she liked it, she liked feeling something other than the mounting pressure and the fear of failure.

“You silly man…” She had uttered, which only made him shoot her a confused stare. She grabbed hold of his wrist, running her fingers over the fabric that covered it before dipping it under the sleeve to feel the pulse there. It pounded beneath the pad of her finger, and she pressed down just slightly to see if he would pull away. He didn’t.

“You do not… distract me from my duties, you give me.. A breath of air before I am pulled back under by them,” She began, her finger still rubbing the cool and soft skin of his wrist as she spoke. “If it weren’t for you, Solas, I do not… I cannot see myself coming out of this as well as I have.” She finished, not intending to be so honest about her feelings- about her fears. His other hand softly came up to trace the bones underneath her wrist, before tugging it away from under his sleeve. 

She feared he would leave it at that, ignore her silly confession and her soft touches, and say “good night, inquisitor” in that annoying closed-off voice of his that she dreaded. The most beautiful thing occurred instead, for he intertwined his fingers with hers and held her hand. She felt her heart soar as she let out a soft gasp. 

The world could end now for all she cared, at this moment she was breathtakingly and maddeningly in love with a man for simply holding her hand. Such a simple act, and yet it broke her. 

“I fear for what would happen if we indulged in this, I fear for how it would… look,” He said softly, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. She forgot how to breathe, she was sure of it. 

“I do not want to make anything… difficult, I do not want to hinder our plans.” She sighed at his touch, feeling her body relax. She was lovesick, horrible, especially for her. The elf inquisitor who boasts about her flirtations, in love, gods…

“You could never be a hindrance, and if anyone were to say a thing I might just throw them off the highest point in Skyhold,” she spoke back softly, her eyelids drooping as she met his gaze. Longing pooled there, and love so true it made her heart stutter. Then, he smiled and pulled her hand to his lips to give the softest of kisses as she felt herself lull into sleep. His words were the last thing she heard, his face the last thing she saw before sleep overtook her. 

“Duly noted Lumine, I will keep your words close to heart… though, please do not throw anyone off any balconies for me, understood?” He said, a soft laugh permeating through his comment. She smiled in her sleep as she felt him again reach to smooth her hair. “No promises..” She mumbled, leaning into his touch that she wondered how she lived without for so long. Never again… She had declared to herself. Never again would she go without him, without this, without love like this.