#and that was with the previously established cast

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[cynyari]

so i just played through Cyno's story quest it was great, just wanted to share some of the Nahida dialogue that i caught

Sethos- after the funeral for his grandfather

I honestly feel like these are really important lines and I'm surprised they are locked behind Nahida

this was just funny to me. some haikavehass behaviour tbh (except they were like so chill in this quest they didn't even argue once)

This is after their final conversation at the very end. Cyrus has taught him well

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

One of the things that I think makes Narvin such a compelling character is that he’s one of the only actual proper time lords we get to see in the doctor who universe. Like we see plenty of other time lords but they’re either renegades (or close enough), have some sort of importance to time lord society/history as a whole, or just aren’t in enough stories to truly get to know

But narvin is really just some guy, yeah he has a high ranking job, but he’s a time lord who (at least at the beginning of gallifrey) holds the same views about the universe as most other time lords. But unlike many other time lords like this he sticks around long enough for us to get to see him grow and change, we get to see his views/ideas/morality get challenged and the consequences of that

I just really like getting to see a time lord who has little to no knowledge about human life and culture that we also get to know on a deeper level than just a side character or someone who’s only in an episode or two

[shellem15]

So I mentioned in another post that I had issues with Bells Hells' conversation with the Matron, and I thought I'd expand on that here:

Aside from the obvious "Bells Hells took the completely wrong conclusion from what the Matron was saying", I have some… gripes…with how that convo went.

To preface, I fucking CALLED the "Matron and Old God of Death (OGOD) had a thing" SO long ago!!! As soon as I heard fucking Purvan Suul say "none of the primes have felt challenges to their domains" I was like oop-- HOLD ON A MINUTE! The brainworms were COOKING can I say.

The only thing I didn't expect was that the Matron and OGOD worked on the rituals of ascension TOGETHER. I figured that they had a close (possibly romantic) relationship, I figured that he knew she was gonna replace him ahead of time and ultimately okayed it, I figured it was terribly tragic. I just didn't expect that he was an active participant in the process.

(If you want to see the full extent of my original Matron-OGOD theory/headcanon, you can find that post here.)

Anyways, I have mixed feelings about this reveal. I like most of it, for sure, and nothing about it is specifically problematic, but it just feels *off* to me for some reason. (Maybe because I had a whole ass headcanon laid out already lmao).

I think it's the part that he actively helped her create the ritual that bothers me. I remember another post discussing this more than me, about how it almost devalues her accomplishment, y'know? Almost implies that she *couldn't* have done it without his help.

I'm sure that wasn't the intent, of course, but it still rubbed me the wrong way. It's just not a necessary detail to have, I feel like. She could have her own ambitions for godhood, and could have loved him and wished to give him peace, and could do all of that without him *actively helping* her.

Now, we don't know what her ambitions for godhood were before they met, so we don't have all the context surrounding the situation. But that in itself is a problem: Why *don't* we know those ambitions? That feels important to mention, even briefly, so why was this part of the conversation *solely* focused on her relationship with the OGOD? BELLS HELLS DON’T CARE ABOUT THE GODS, this didn't really sway them either way.

Actually, I do know why there was so much focus on their relationship, which leads into my major issue with this conversation: The Raven Queen survived her ascension because of her love for the OGOD, and Bells Hells can do the impossible (contain Predathos as a vessel) through the power of ~love~.

*Big Sigh* Okay, here's the thing: I would be perfectly fine with this plot point if we HADN'T JUST COME BACK FROM DOWNFALL. AKA "LOVE WAS THERE, IT DIDN'T SAVE THEM" THE SERIES. WHAT DO YOU MEAN "You can do the impossible through the power of love"??? (The spirit of Arthur Aguefort possesses me) WE LITERALLY JUST SAW THAT NOT BE THE CASE!! Unless what we saw in Downfall was WRONG, apparently!? I guess the gods just DIDN'T LOVE EACH OTHER ENOUGH to reconcile huh? Pack it up, folks! We've solved the riddle! The gods just need to LOVE EACH OTHER MORE to fix all their problems!

(If I was one of the gods, and I overheard this shit, I would SMACK HER. The AUDACITY of this b1tch)

*Ahem* Anyways, now that I've calmed down, let me reiterate: Normally, I would be perfectly fine with this plot point. I quite enjoy a good "the power of love" story. But here's the thing: You cannot do this "power of love" thing immediately after you've *already disproven it* in a whole ass flashback-miniseries. Not only have you undermined the tragedy of the previous storyline, you're also setting yourself up for future plot holes and inconsistencies! Why bother playing out Downfall in the first place if it's major themes are just going to be immediately undermined?

It's just, the gods are beings of pure conviction. They are defined by their domains, and cannot act outside of them. The tragic thing is, when they fled Tengar so long ago, it WASN’T love that saved them, that made them real. The ACTIONS they took are what made them real, and they are bound to be ONLY those actions FOREVER. Whether they were motivated by love or not is ultimately irrelevant, because love didn’t define them, their convictions did, and still do.

They were doomed from the start, the actions that made them real are what damned them in the end. Because as beings of pure conviction, compromise is impossible. The Dawnfather HAS to be a guiding light and the Ruiner HAS to destroy and the Lord of Hells HAS to burn and the Everlight HAS to reach out to him and he HAS to lie and burn her in return because that’s *all they are*. And if their convictions are fundamentally at odds with each other, there is no room for reconciliation; it’s as unattainable to them as suddenly sprouting wings and flying is to us. That’s just not something we can do; no amount of love will make wings sprout from our backs. No amount of love between the gods will change their natures.

(And this logic applies to the gods and mortals as well! Aeor didn't fall because the Prime deities don't love mortals! It fell because the Gods' natures apply BOTH WAYS: The Dawnfather HAS to be a guiding light so Ayden HAD to try to save both Aeor and his siblings, he can't just selectively choose his nature when it's most convenient. And that ultimately doomed Aeor, because saving mortals and saving the Betrayers are inherently at odds with each other. Conversely, Asmodeus HAS to lie and lies hurt people so he will ALWAYS hurt both his siblings and mortals, so he was ALWAYS going to drop Aeor out of the sky. There was no other course of action. Love or hate was never going to change anything.)

The love was there, and it didn’t save them. In many ways, it just made things worse, desperately clinging to each other and hurting each other and the world in the process because the thought of separation is too painful to even consider. They love each other deeply but the love they have cannot outweigh their convictions, so the conflict of this inherent contradiction ends up destroying themselves and the world. Isn’t that what Downfall was trying to convey?

Bells Hells are seemingly the exact opposite of the gods. What conviction do they have, really? Except Orym and maybe Ashton, they all seem to just be along for the ride. No strong opinions either way. Which makes me question why Downfall was even included, because (ignoring the obvious in-text reasoning), a flashback sequence like that is, narratively, supposed to parallel your main story. It should highlight flaws within your main characters and show them what NOT to do. It should serve as a cautionary tale that motivates them and encourages character growth and self-reflection, not draw them into more indecision. Downfall didn't really change anything about Bells Hells, it didn't really influence their decisions much at all.

(This sucks, because I fucking LOVE Downfall! Why didn't it have more impact??? Why was it seemingly just forgotten about except to be used in cyclical debates that ultimately didn't go anywhere anyways???)

As Downfall established, love isn't a saving grace. Love is a motivator at best, a hindrance at worst. Love is second to conviction, to tangible action, which is what Bells Hells has been severely lacking. The gods failed Exandria and each other because their natures make them incapable of compromise, not because they didn't love each other enough. What should have been taken from this (in my opinion), is that Bells Hells MUST have strong convictions when taking any sort of tangible action, but they must ALSO have the flexibility to cooperate with others and compromise on certain issues for any actual positive change to occur.

The conversation with the Matron should have supported Downfall and helped guide Bells Hells towards this conclusion. It didn't actually have this effect, however, because although she did call out Bells Hells' indecisiveness (good) and encouraged them to decide for themselves (also good), this effect was immediately undermined by the whole "power of love" thing. Which only served to exacerbate Bells Hells' indecisiveness, which has ultimately culminated in the disappointed responses to the Big Button Push which just happened.

So yeah.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

While Erika got to go around on Dumbo again with her father, August found himself wandering over to one of the food kiosks, and returning with a small box of Mickey-shaped beignets, saying, "I, uh, I take it the children like beignets?"

"Oh, certainly," Wilhelm nodded with a smile, saying, "Dorian, his wife, and a lot of the spooks in the house are New Orleans natives, so even when they're not buying beignets from the park itself, they're being baked by the chefs Dorian's got employed, as well as a lotta other Louisiana dishes. Beignets, of course, are one of the twins' favorite."

"Well, they certainly come by it honestly," the Burke patriarch chuckled. "Josephine craved them quite a bit when she was pregnant with June."

"No kidding! Junie craved 'em when she was pregnant with Randall!" Wilhelm smiled, the two of them sharing in the beignets as August asked, "Do you have any similar recipes back in Ireland?"

"Not so much. We have apple cake, porter cake, barmbrack cake, soda bread...but nothing quite like this. I still remember the first time Junie made 'em for me-she really opened my eyes to a lotta the food of New Orleans, and in turn, I got to introduce her to a lotta Irish food too."

He chuckled a little, still smiling as he said, "Sometimes we like to sit out at one of the restaurants here in the park and sip a mint julep, just to get that little taste of Louisiana again."

"They serve mint juleps here?" August asked in surprise, at which Wilhelm was quickly clarify, "Th-They're non-alcoholic! Which is...good. I'm...not one for alcohol these days."

If August picked up on the subtleties of this comment, he didn't show it-instead, he smiled sympathetically, saying, "I...I can understand that. I used to smoke a pipe when June was a girl, but...

...that was a long time ago."

[dragontamer05]

God I love Waking the Dragon's arc so much.

[chicohungers24-7]

It's absolutely imperative that Phosphorus doesn't get with Nosferata in season 2

[tired-biscuit]

I feel like you’re setting up Logan for an electric kink. You ever hear about people discovering the kink with those prank shock pens? They get the curiosity to see what it feels like on their clit/dick and end up leading into amazing orgasms. I imagine Logan’s metal body would be extra sensitive to voltage running through him

18+ MDNI, fem!mutant!reader // cw: electrostimulation, established relationship. logan gets zoinked a little, if you will.

wc: 1.1k

divider credit: div1nepetal

wait, all that’s on my mind now is mutant!reader with the power of controlling electricity, finally reuniting with logan after spending several weeks apart!

you’ve always been cautious when it came to using your powers, but around logan you have to take that guardedness a step further and be extra careful since you’re basically a contrasting match and thus pretty much deadly to him because of his adamantium skeleton.

and since all of his bones are encased in metal — that is, of course, highly conductive — you’ve made the choice to constantly make sure to never cast your gifts upon him throughout your entire relationship, to restrain your true nature and basically keep yourself on a tight leash for his own safety.

so imagine both your and his surprise when you shake that phantom leash off your neck for once and end up losing control while he’s finally as close as he can be to you…

meaning that he’s got his cock buried to the hilt inside you; fucking you like an animal on top of your kitchen counter.

you’re unsure how it all comes to fruition. in your fucked out state of mind and all the chaos, all you’re aware of is that your legs have somehow ended up wrapped around your boyfriend’s waist, and that you’ve got your heels locked on the small of his back in weak attempt of keeping yourself from sliding down the counter and melting into a puddle of lust and pleasure on the kitchen tiles.

your panties are hanging on for dear life as they dangle around your left ankle — he’d been far too impatient to take them down properly — however they fall right onto the previously mentioned tiles as soon as you curl your toes from how eagerly he licks his way into your mouth, then.

logan wastes no time as he glides his tongue across the flat surface of your teeth and deepens the kiss in a way that could almost come across as him worrying that he might never get another chance to do so again. he relishes the way you taste with a soft grunt and an even softer “missed ya”, and you swear to whatever god is up there, probably disapprovingly shaking their head at your current actions, that the subtle growl that’s lacing his voice is enough to make you go batshit crazy.

and gosh, as if that wasn’t enough already, you’re also so close. muscle to muscle, chest to chest. your foreheads press together whenever a messy, borderline sloppy kiss breaks and a new one begins, and you’re clinging onto him desperately as he continues to rock his hips into yours in that rough pace that makes you twitch each time he hits a particularly sensitive spot that’s hiding deep — so very deep — inside you.

he really has missed you, huh? i mean, normally he’s so aloof, but now he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you. like an apex predator, so possessive and greedy and hungry, but at the same time so full of desire and longing and love that he’s always been too scared to show until as of late.

his cheeks have attained a hot red hue to them from how much you’re both working your bodies, and his rich, dark hair is all mussed up from how many times you’ve ran your fingers through it already.

he’s also sweaty. so sweaty, in fact, that his brow glimmers slightly and his shirt clings to his muscular back and torso.

shit. perhaps you want to eat him, too.

instead of doing that, however, you use the chance to inhale his scent when he leans in to kiss you again. not a moment passes before the smell of smoke and all things wild fills your lungs. he smells heavy and rich and intense and so fucking male. it makes your blood reach a boiling point because of how overstimulated you’ve become from all sensations combined.

but that’s not all. besides the rising temperature in your blood, you’ve slowly, but surely, also started outright buzzing with energy. your skin feels like it’s prickling in the places where his big, calloused hands are touching and grabbing and manhandling you, and every single hair on your body has risen to attention.

there is lightning in your eyes and electricity thrumming in your veins. he keeps pushing into you, using you, fucking you into stupidity, making his way into your goddamn womb, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting.

“logan, fuck, i-…! i-i’m gonna-”

he pants into your half-open mouth from how your jaw slackens all of a sudden, breaths intermingling and spit mixing. picking up the pace even more, he’s physically aching now to help you reach your finish and feel your pussy squeeze around him in the same way that he��s been dreaming about in these last, exruciatingly lonely couple of weeks.

and he does feel it.

well… kind of.

because besides the clench of pleasure, what logan also ends up feeling is a hot, borderline burning sensation that rushes through his skull, down his spine, and spreads throughout his entire body. down to every last tip of his fingers and toes. down to every last hair follicle.

the zap of energy that you accidentally allow to slip from how hard he’s forced you to climax is not strong when compared to your level of power, but for logan it’s like he’s turned mortal again and been hit by one of those giant buses they use for tourists.

goddammit, the wretched thing must be turning back, further pressing him into the ground until he’s mush, because what the fuck?

it makes his teeth vibrate — he swears that he can taste static in his mouth. slightly acidic, his saliva goes runny because of it.

caught off-guard, he sags against you, brain feeling like it’s slowly melting and bones feeling like they’re humming, making you whimper at the immense weight of his body that you now have to help support. you’re too stunned yourself by whatever’s unfolding right now to start voicing any apologies, so all you do is hold him. you hold him tight, while trembling all over.

every breath he takes is shallow. he’s overwhelmingly warm and eerily quiet. when he at long last feels conscious enough to pull back a little so that he can look at you again, his eyelids are heavily hooded and his pupils are dilated to the point where they remind you of the dinner plates that are stored in the cupboard that’s next to your head.

he’s completely dazed.

and it’s not until you can hear something dripping onto the tiles below and feel the stickiness between your legs, that you realize that he’s spilled every last drop of cum into you because of it.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Zoro is always happy to wish you good morning with a surprise, especially if that means he gets to play with you while you’re asleep. 😳😳😳 ~1.5k words.

CW: Afab reader, no gendered language. Somnophilia, P in V, previously established consent (it is mentioned once or twice, but I just wanted to emphasize that this is consensual).

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A hazy sensation: arousal and heat pulsed between your legs. You slept peacefully, dreaming that someone was rubbing your clit softly, fingers passing through your slippery wet core and toying with your entrance. It was a delicious dream, one of the best sex dreams you’d had in a long time. You were content and tingly as your mind wandered amidst nasty fantasies.

But you weren’t just dreaming. In reality, Zoro had one of his hands down your panties as you slept. He was laying down next to you on his side, taking in the sight of your curves and soft breaths, the way your head rested limply on the pillow and how your lips were parted. You were fast asleep and dripping wet for him, thighs spread wide. It was around 5:00AM.

Faint blueish light filtered through the shutters of the room’s porthole, casting just enough pale color so he could see you in detail. He gazed down at where his hand was buried in the smooth fabric of your underwear, playing with your clit and folds. His thick fingers delicately rubbed and petted your sensitive spots, coaxing pleasure out of you while you laid there unconscious.

You were so wet that it felt like you were melting on him. He slid his middle finger into you as tenderly he could. When you sighed and shifted slightly, he held still. Zoro wanted to make you cum on his fingers. It got him off beyond belief to think that he could do things to your body when you were out could that got you this aroused.

His erection pressed on his boxer briefs and he could feel precum weeping out of his slit, leaving a wet spot on the fabric. His cock yearned for friction, but he wouldn’t address it for as long as he could get away with. He was laser-focused on you right now, on your sleeping body and aching cunt.

When he was certain you were still out cold, he slowly brought his finger out of you and pushed it back in. Each pass of his finger stoked more heat at your core and your walls fluttered around him. Sparks of pleasure radiated from your cunt, convincing you that you were having a particularly steamy dream.

Zoro inserted his ring finger and you felt like you were floating, soaking your panties and gushing slick as each second went by. He had to stifle a groan when your walls clamped around his fingers. He angled for your g-spot. When he gingerly pressed on it, you let out another sigh and shifted once more.

Zoro held his breath—it was imperative that you stayed asleep for the time being. He wanted to pull as much pleasure from you as he could. Where would the fun be if you woke up now?

Still slumbering, your orgasm started to build. He could tell that his fingers felt good inside of you, even when you were out like a light.

Zoro’s cock throbbed with each noise that escaped your lips. He could see that you were literally starting to drool with pleasure—it leaked out of the corners of your mouth as your lips hung open. While he studied you carefully, you were totally lost in your dreamscape of lust and desire. It felt real, vivid, and tangible—it felt almost too good to be a dream.

As he fingered you, the heat in your core reached a boiling point. Right before you were going to cum on his fingers, you shifted in your sleep, repositioning on your side so your back was facing him. He pulled his fingers out of you in the nick of time, not wanting to risk disturbing your slumber.

When you settled, your ass faced him, and he cursed himself for not making you cum sooner—but this presented a different opportunity. One of your legs crossed over your body, exposing your ass and core at the perfect angle. He thought he could get away with putting his cock in you without waking you up—regardless of how heavy or light you usually slept, some random nights you just slept extra heavy. He could tell that this was one of these nights.

Stealthily pulling his boxer briefs down, Zoro stroked his cock, pulling precum down his tip and over his shaft with a shudder. Each stroke felt like fire after waiting for so long. He touched himself for a few moments, staring at your ass and the glistening wetness on your folds. When he rotated his hand over the head of his cock his hips bucked up and his muscles tensed. He needed you.

Zoro laid a hand cautiously on your hip and brought his cock to your entrance.

After he swiftly pulled your panties aside, he rubbed the head of his cock on your core for a few seconds. You were messy and wet for him, sound asleep while your body begged him for more.

With a deep breath, Zoro pressed his cock into you as softly as he could. Your walls clenched around his girth, getting adjusted. As far as he could tell, you were still asleep.

He began to thrust subtly, dragging his cock in and out of you at a measured pace. He bit his lip to stop a moan from escaping. Your pussy felt so good that it took all his self-control not to push your head into the covers and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

As his cock glided in and out of your cunt, wet slapping sounds started to echo in the room, quietly at first but gradually getting louder. The clacking sounds were accompanied by light metallic jingles as his earrings brushed together.

A quiet moan fell from your lips and his hips slowed. You were coming to—groggily returning to consciousness, barely sentient as he fucked you. Waking up with his cock in you was something you’d never get tired of.

“Zoro,” you mewled, barely audible, voice scratchy after hours of not being used. You were scarcely cognizant. All you knew was that Zoro’s cock was in you, and it felt great. You didn’t and couldn’t realize anything else. “F-faster.”

You were just awake enough to tell him what you needed, and, of course, he always did what you said.

Zoro picked up the pace, fucking you more conscious by the second. You were moments away from cumming on his dick, so turned on that it was leaving a stain on the covers underneath you. He could feel you grinding on his cock, trying to fuck yourself deeper with it, drowsily following your instincts.

“So needy even in your sleep” he murmured, gripping your hip so forcefully that it woke you up more than him railing you. “Squeezing my cock so hard already. Does it really feel that good?”

You met his words with a whine. The sweet noises escaping your lips made him thrust with more urgency, his grunts coming out at full volume now.

“Z-zoro, fuck,” you whimpered.

He got on top of you, pinning you down with his weight. Your stifled moans traveled through the sheets underneath of you, and you writhed on his cock, still half asleep.

Every time his tip crashed into your bundle of nerves, ecstasy zapped you awake. Your cunt was boiling hot, you were about to snap.

“Cum on my cock, baby. I know you want it.”

It was too much—he had only been fucking you for a few minutes, but you were already so wet that you couldn’t handle it anymore. Your hips bucked and you moaned into the covers, cumming on his cock. He could feel your gummy walls squeeze him as you squirmed desperately. Your thighs shook and your toes curled—it was the best ‘good morning’ you could get. Only seconds later, Zoro’s hips jerked and he came inside you with a groan. His cum shot out so explosively that you could feel it filling you up.

After you were done creaming on his cock, and after he was done creaming you, your croaked out something in your morning voice so sweet yet so simple, and his heart felt like it would stop. “Mmmm. Good morning, Zoro.”

Your heavy-lidded eyes and ruddy cheeks made him smile in adoration. He kissed you, cleaned you up, and cuddled you until you went back to sleep.

that’s all for this one!! i hope you liked it :)

here’s my masterlist and my october posting schedule.

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 13:53 — ONE NEGRONI

SUM : to help pay the bills and your tuition fee, you get a new job at an elite club where the tips are incredibly generous. you’ve met a majority of the clientele already but they don’t match the stranger who ordered a simple negroni

TAGS. : mafia au ; modern au ; muggle au ; mobster remus ; mafia boss remus ; bartender reader ; reader is a hard working sweetheart that must be protected! ; catching remus’ eye ; remus lowkey wishes he can be the one to do the protecting ; and maybe more ; for now, he’s a low key stalker ; but sexy… ; stalking is bad, don’t do it! ; this is just fiction! ; but hey! remus owns an elite club! wooooo! ; i don’t know how to feel about my interpretation of the marauders as mafia men/mobsters ; it’s growing on me… ; also, im casting peter pettigrew as Dane DeHan in this!

LENGTH : 1.5k

It wasn’t as if you were new to the job; you had previously worked some years as a bar tender for a pretty well-established club, it paid well and managed to help pay for your rent and utility bills for most of your higher education years. However, all the built up stress and sleepless nights finally caught up to you. And you found yourself repeating a year, meaning that you needed to pay for your own tuition this year atop all the other monthly bills and necessities you keep up with. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that you needed to stop and change the direction of your life — you needed to choose an easier path, a doable path. But you were stubborn and also quite the optimist. So you kept at it, determined to finish what you started and earn your degree. 

Yes, it was a let down but you were still breathing. Life just gets hard sometimes. 

Thankfully, your past experience and phenomenal recommendation letter from your previous manager earned you another bar tending job at a very elite club, where tips were more than generous, considering the clientele composed primarily of the privileged class, some with multiple businesses under their belts, some who were phenomenal investors and some living off their parents’ money. You didn’t care to look too much into it, you were there to work and you were going to work hard and honestly. 

The patrons surprisingly had very similar tastes and so, you fond yourself making the same types of drinks repeatedly. It made the job a lot easier and you were able to focus more on your delivery and interaction with customers, leading to more tips. Times were rough after having to accept defeat with your studies and repeating a year with your own funding but things were looking up. If you keep at it, you’ll make it out alive. 

Your only complaint was the dress code. Make up was advised with a bold red lip but must be kept simple. You felt like a showgirl of some kind, squeezed into a high collar, white dress that came down to your mid thigh and with a low-cut, open back. The sleeves aren’t as long as you would like but, at least, you were permitted to use black kitten heel court shoe pumps as opposed to stilettos — your only saving grace, along with the higher salary and generous tips. 

“Looks like we have a newbie working the bar,” Sirius points out, drawing all attention to your lively figure as you served drinks with a sweet smile and airy voice. A hum of curiosity vibrates through Remus’ chest and up to his lips at the sight of you, “certainly easy on the eyes, huh?” the tattooed, right-hand comments again as he looks towards the head of the table where Remus holds up his glass of Negroni. 

“Very… innocent— a sweet, pretty, little thing,” James comments on Remus’ other side, which Peter grunts at in agreement as he takes a sip of his whiskey-sour. 

“Looks like she doesn’t belong,” Peter nods before smirking and letting out a light laugh. The domino effect had James and Sirius laughing too as Remus smirks behind his glass before proceeding to down the rest of his drink. 

“Exactly your type, eh? Moony?” 

Sirius’ teasing comment is ignored. Instead, Remus calls for there server and orders another drink with an additional request that only confirms his smirking friend’s disregarded statement, “Have the new bartender personally deliver my drink for me as well,”

There was no higher authority that could dismiss the club owner’s personal request. 

It was a strange request but you steeled your nerves and asked your fellow bartender to minister your unattended station while you made quick work on the order. It wasn’t unusual to receive requests like this from an isolated table that had privacy curtains for convenience. However, it was usually for drinks that you could make a show out of like a Holy Water cocktail, a Phoenix cocktail and even a Dragon’s Blood cocktail — a performance that you liked partaking in for the flammable aspect. But this was a Negroni. A cocktail of equal parts gin, saccharine vermouth and bitter Italian Campari. It’s a very egalitarian drink that was enjoyed by everyone, men and women alike, simple but elegant and definitely didn’t require a performance. Despite the odd summons, you were eager to fulfil your curiosity for who the client may be. 

With a professional smile, you place refined mix in the middle of your circular tray with it’s classic orange garnish and set off to the table. The standby server, who made the order, saw your approach and quickly announced your arrival through the small front opening, momentarily disappearing into the shadow of the curtains. He reappears a moment later and pulls the heavy drapes fully apart, to reveal the guests from beneath the, once, opaque shadows. 

To say that you were stunned was an understatement. 

It was pure luck that you didn’t stutter in your stride and spill the cocktail prematurely. At the table was seated four men, all dressed in suits and ties that were in various states of disorder. Among their collection of suits, you could spot Armani and Tom Ford, however, you were sure that their unconventional styles were not the way those suits were intended to be worn. 

One man with long, midnight-black hair and paper-pale skin had an array of mismatching tattoos littering both arms, revealed to you by his lack of a suit jacket and rolled-up sleeves. Another wore cute circular glasses and a cheeky grin with a suit jacket but no button up shirt and his chiseled upper body on full display. The last was a dirty blonde with piercing eyes and a deceivingly boyish smile. He had his ankle propped up on his opposite knee and several buttons undone where a tie should have been fastened over, his sleeves also rolled up as his suit jacket lay beside him.

It was the man at the head of the table, however, who stole your attention. If you had to guess who ordered such a simple but elegant drink, it would have to be him. He had his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders and also had several of his top buttons undone, revealing some faded scars marked across his toned chest. His neat brunette hair and kind brown eyes gave him a deceivingly gentle appearance but his close company revealed a duplicity that caught and tensed your nerves.

You ignored the creeping goosebumps that prickled your skin, down from your toes all the way up to your ears. 

Just do your job…

“Gentlemen,” you addressed kindly with a slight tilt of your head, which they acknowledged with their own hums of acknowledgement, their eyes lighting up in subtle surprise at your actions, “I have an order for a Negroni,” you raise your tray with the drink and scan the four for some indication as to who the order belonged to. 

“That would be for me,” just as you suspected, it was the brunette with the kindest eyes but also the most ominous air. His voice is a deep and smooth lullaby, patient with it’s seduction on your senses. It was a trap that you resisted but are so hopelessly tempted to fall into, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he meets your eyes as you lower the drink into his large, outstretched hand. You notice how his knuckles and fingers are littered with scars also, some fresh, some faded with time and some hidden behind luxurious rings. Nevertheless…

He’s beautiful 

She’s precious 

“Not a problem,” you reassure with a soft voice, “have a good evening,” with your circular tray pressed against your side, you offer him an innocent smile and dismiss the butterflies in your stomach urging you to linger, “gentlemen,” you acknowledge the remaining three once more before offering another sweet smile. Turning on your heel, you leave the group and ignore the stares drilling holes into the back of your head.

She doesn’t know… 

Once you were out of earshot, Remus turns to his closest friends and most trusted colleagues. They all share a look, one that conveys a unanimous thought. It isn’t long before their agreement manifests into knowing smiles and a ring of laughter shared between them.

“Don’t get greedy now, Moony,” Peter chimes in as Sirius throws his head back with a barking laugh. 

“That’s not gonna stop him Wormtail, you know that; she’s a rare one,”  

“So what’s the plan, bossman?” James asks with a raised brow as he brings his drink up to his lips.

Remus doesn’t answer right away, he simply requests that the curtain remain open so he can fix his fond gaze on you for the remainder of the evening. The group already knew what to do and sat at the edge of their seats, awaiting orders eagerly despite their slack shoulders and composed expressions. Only they were able to observe the shift in the air between them; it became charged as soon as you entered their circle and slowly started accelerating, parallel to the climbing affection in Remus’ eyes as he watches you smile at customers while making their drinks. 

He takes a singular sip of his Negroni, bitterly sweet with a citrus edge. 

Heaven in a glass. And made by an angel. 

“I want a background check and profile put together immediately,” Remus finally orders, “I want to know everything there is to know about her,”

A/N : i downloaded some fics and read some over the holidays and there some mafia/mobster aus and i couldn’t help but picture remus as a mob boss, i’m sure im not the only one to ever imagine this but goddamn! why is it so easy to imagine sweet, gentle, responsible remus like that?!

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @rosalyn-s

[wesstars]

hot tea

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: your addams just really needs some physical contact :) wc: 737 tags: established relationship. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters involved are 18+. ooc wednesday. idk something about tooth rotting fluff a/n: first wednesday drabble wednesday, in collaboration with @evilrawr! fluff has been requested by @melrodrigo. still not my strong suit but we’re going for it anyway. 

masterlist

Steam rose from the warm mug that you carefully wrapped Wednesday’s fingers around, but the heated ceramic was nothing compared to the searing lance of your grasp around her wrist. She watched as you settled yourself down on bended knee in front of her, respectfully pulling back your hands. Her own twitched, minutely. 

It hadn’t been that difficult to come knock on your door, 10 minutes before curfew was over. Wednesday knew you’d be there in your dorm, making something absurdly sweet with your—respectably contraband—electric kettle. You’d stepped aside to wordlessly let her in, and she’d taken her usual seat at the foot of your bed. Strewn around were your day’s assignments, a jacket or two, and she wrinkled her nose at the mess. Your lamps cast a gentle candle-eseque light across everything, blurring every sharp edge. The exact reason why she was in your room, well…

“Long day?” Your gaze was inquisitive but warm, as always. Wednesday watched you, taking in your socked feet and soft pants. Then, she did the Wednesday Addams equivalent of what might be considered a frustrated huff from Enid, or a desolate sigh from you: she looked away first.

The reaction was immediate, she noted absently. You tried to catch her gaze again, the slope of your shoulders and the wring of your fingers imploring her to look back at you. “Weds… talk to me?”

She took a slow sip from the mug, avoiding your eyes. To tell the truth, Wednesday was busy aching in the way that she wished you’d reach across the sea between your knee and hers. Her intense feelings were something that she typically kept locked away, not just with the protection of a key, but with a castle moat, bolted doors, and plenty of booby traps. Inside that cage lay other previously dormant feelings, ones that you managed to pull out, sharp knife to soft underbelly, with startling ease. Wednesday set her mug down on the floor, cocking her head at you. Often she’d feel a baser, visceral urge to blurt out whatever thought she had to you. Restraint was becoming more and more difficult, the more you seemed to flay yourself open in front of her for a perusal akin to autopsy.

There was a muffled thump as you got up just a bit to shift from your kneeling posture, and Wednesday couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling tightly until you were about nose to nose. Her mind knew that your actual body temperature wasn’t that high, even lower than the average, but her cold heart felt the bone-deep bonfire of your proximity as your hands slammed into the bed next to her thighs, preventing you from tumbling into her. You took a sharp breath, a fateful one, as it seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room, leaving Wednesday blissfully bereft of that life force. She didn’t need it, anyway; she was convinced she could sustain herself on the dilating of your pupils, the flickering of your eyes down to her lips.

“Come here.” Wednesday’s voice came out in a rasp, but she reasoned with herself—it was the best she could do after you yanked the air out of her still lungs. That ache of absence turned into a yawning chasm, reserve and restraint tumbling down into that eager maw. Her demand fell into that same ravine, eclipsed by the endless depth of darkness.

You stood from your position to sit on the bed as soon as the plea left her, and Wednesday was impressed at your speed. You pulled her into your arms not a beat later. Everything smelled like a faint mix of linen and honey, between your sweater and your tea, and something in it brought Wednesday’s world to a halt. The skin of your collar was warm against the tip of Wednesday’s nose, grounding like the nip of winter air. The two of you fell easily into your sheets, and Wednesday’s mind finally felt like it had found the smoking gun for the investigation. It settled like a content cat right in her diaphragm, making it easy to breathe you in.

“Is this what you wanted?” Your voice, already sleepy, sent vibrations down Wednesday’s spine. She hummed back, leaning her temple up against your shirt and letting her head fall onto your chest. You didn’t say a word more; you didn’t need to.

--

a/n cont'd: so... playing with words… what do we think :0

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[rochenn]

The year is 2034. Disney announces the production of the show "Resistance: Dooku of Serenno", set during the early days of the Empire, starring CG Christopher Lee.

We begin with a flashback to Revenge of the Sith. After Dooku is beheaded, we learn that he used the Force to supply his brain with blood and oxygen. The movie is visibly retconned - as Obi-Wan, Anakin and Palpatine flee the Invisible Hand, four human parts can be spotted stealthily floating after them.

Dooku, being Dooku, survives the crash and manages to steal away. His head is surgically reattached. Don't ask why nobody else ever stitched their lightsaber-chopped limbs back on. He ends up getting prosthetic hands, anyway. David Filoni said in a behind-the-scenes interview that he thought they were cool.

Previously established canon prevents Dooku from doing anything in-character until Order 66. He lets loose in Coruscant's undercity and becomes the local kooky old man who couldn't possibly be public enemy number one until Mace Windu, freshly fried and unhanded, crashes down in front of him. What a coincidence.

Mace is still played by Sam L. Jackson. He is So Old. He is only there for the paycheck. Disney didn't know how to recast him. He is acting alongside the shell of a man who has been dead for two decades.

After a joke about missing hands that is very funny, the two get along swimmingly. They don't really talk about Dooku's various war crimes. "My droid army would never traumatize a young child," Dooku says with a wink into the camera. Remember to buy your Mandalorian merch.

Mace and Dooku organize an underground resistance on Coruscant in the spirit of the Confederacy. Mace is okay with this. Choice aspects of this arc are compelling, like the fight against fascism under the yoke of cruel state suppression, but tone-deaf allusions to the work of Sophie Scholl cause controversy abroad. Andor did it better. Critics on YouTube who thus far lauded the return of fan favorites and 'faithful casting' tear into the show for pushing the woke agenda.

Nothing Mace and Dooku accomplish has any impact on the Original Trilogy. What were you expecting? The end of the show teases a second season with the arrival of a mysterious woman. Dooku's secret wife. You never knew of her because she was never relevant before. As the final credit music slowly creeps in, she says: "Don't you want to see your son?"

The music swells and we cut to Serenno. The planet has never been mentioned throughout all 15 episodes of the show. Standing in the ruins of Dooku's castle is Dooku's son: back turned to the viewer, gazing into the sunset. Dooku II of Serenno, proud heir, turns his head. He is played by Harry Styles.

Roll credits.

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬. ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: just like the clouds, my eyes will do the same…

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: genshin impact | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: neuvillette/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 0.86k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: previously established relationship, age gap, character death, angst, blood, dragon reader,

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: haven’t done the archon quest but god i’m in love w him so have this that i literally just fucking wrote start to finish

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

it’s almost cruel, how bright the sun was shining. it shone so strongly it hurt your eyes, made you squint as you gazed up at him — you, his longest lasting companion, and you, who he shields from the burning sun with his own body. the shadow his head and broad shoulders cast across your face is cool and welcome, and you ignore the way his hands shake. 

“i’d do it all over, you know,” you whisper quietly, and he tenses at the sound of your trembling voice, his grip on you tightening. “if the gods were to grant me a second chance at life, i’d make the same decisions — i’d follow for our eternity, and i’d stay. with you.”

“stupid girl, you talk too much,” neuvillette whispers, clutching you as close and as tight as he can without hurting you. “you’re wasting energy.”

clouds, a mixture of white and grey, drift into the limited stretch of sky within your sight. you reply, “it’s never a waste. not when spent on you,” and he whimpers. 

you’ve never heard him so fearful. 

“you — you cannot-“ neuvillette’s words catch in his throat, unable to escape his mouth, and you smile up at him through battle-rouged lips. his breathing shakes, but he forces himself through it. “you aren’t allowed to do this. we swore it, many millennia ago — you and i, unparted until the end.”

you laugh softly, and it hurts. “don’t you see? lover, it is the end.” blood dribbles from your lips as a low, pained noise falls from his own, an animalistic keen that breaks your heart; you can hear his own racing — the fear is getting to him, the panic as well. 

thunder booms. 

“n-no, i said no-!” he says, his voice strong and weak at the same time, and you shakily put a hand over his own where it covers the gaping wound in your middle. 

“even you cannot deny death his prize, neuvillette,” you whisper seriously. behind him, where he kneels on the pristine stone of the courtyard where you’d both been ambushed by enemies he’d finished off in a rage once he saw you fall in a splash of blood, guards approach with young furina in tow. she locks eyes with you, glancing briefly with horror in her gaze at your husband where he holds you while his trousers soak in the pool of blood you’ve created, and hers become wide and scared.

damn it. you’d not wanted her to see; it was already terrible enough that your husband had been with you when you’d been struck, and now the charge neuvillette and yourself had taken was to watch as well? the gods must be laughing at your misfortune. 

“please,” he whispers above you, hunched small and rounded so as to shield you from a threat that had already fallen upon the both of you. he ignores furina’s arrival.  “please, do not.”

lightning flashes, a warning of what was to come. 

he was done refuting fate and denying the gods their entertainment. now he was begging you, publicly prostrating himself before the many witnesses at his back without a single care in the world as long as it meant keeping you. his hand shakes as you clutch it in yours. 

“nothing will change atropos’ claim,” your murmurs, lifting one hand to cup his face. it takes almost all of the strength you have left as you lay there, bleeding out uncontrollably, but it’s all worth it as he nuzzles his face into your palm while his eyes remain squeezed shut. 

“it’s not fair,” he whispers against your wrist, his voice trembling, and you run your thumb along the crest of his cheekbone fondly. 

“life — life isn’t fair,” you force out around bloody teeth. behind your husband, the guards stand silent and furina quietly calls out a worried question you can’t really register as the wind starts to pick up aggressively. the vast picture of the sky behind neuvillette darkens to a deep grey the color of deep sea stone, a sky that begins to grow smaller and darker around the edges of your vision as your strength runs out. your heart pangs as you stare into his eyes. they’re panicked, afraid; you fear what today will do to him. you cannot let it be worse. “neuvillette — husband, look away.”

he shakes his head, and he does not. your brow furrows faintly as he begins trembling anew. 

“n-neuvillette, please…”

no. he can’t. 

“husband-…” with a choked whine, he squeezes his eyes shut.

a soft, fading sigh roars in his ears like the deafening crashing that comes with standing by waterfalls, and a hurt gasp from furina behind him prompts him to open his eyes again. he looks down at you, unmoving but still warm to the touch, and if he were a lesser learned man he’d have been fooled into thinking you were just sleeping — but you were not. you would not ever rest again, despite being drawn into the grasps of the eternal sleep. his breathing comes and goes, unstable and messy, and his heart aches. it burns with an agony as if it’s been torn from his chest—

and it begins to rain. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[felassan]

July 22nd DA:TV Game Informer article (their last DA:TV coverage article) on Everything we Know about Bellara - cliff notes:

Bellara is Dalish elf (played by Jee Young Han as we know). There might be more to her than meets the eye

"Now, with two of [the elven] gods on the loose, magic has poured back into the world in a big way"

CC is expansive

Bellara is the first companion we will recruit (Neve and Harding join automatically it seems)

She is a mage, a Veil Jumper (who she represents), quirky, energetic, effervescent, optimistic, bubbly, academic, a tinkerer, an explorer of ancient elven ruins

John Epler wrote her and led her development, and collective team effort from lots of departments brought her to life

The BW team really love her

Gary McKay quote: "I love Bellara, I think she's fantastic. I see people that I know in her and so that's how she really resonates with me. I love the whole tinkerer aspect to her. It was a collective to bring that character to life. It was everything from the writers, to the editors, the animators, to character modelers, to the texturing, to how we light her. I'm really proud of that character."

She is a good choice in combat for both support and elemental combos. She starts out as a support character, but can be built in other ways

She attacks with a bow at range using electrically-charged arrows. She can also cast time-slow and healing spells (she can be built to heal Rook autonomously). She does this by channeling magical energy into her gauntlet

As such she leans into electrical damage

Damage type matters a lot in the strategy and tactics of combat

She can unleash a devastating vortex to pull enemies into an electrical storm (an AOE spell)

She can debuff enemies with the shocked affliction, which makes them take passive damage

Corinne Busche quote: "Oh my goodness, she is amazing. [The Veil Jumpers] investigate the ancient ruins of Arlathan. Everything about her character as a mage leans into that, but she also challenges the kind of archetypal idea of a mage."

The Veil Jumpers journey through Arlathan where the ancient empire used to exist and left a lot of artifacts and magical technology behind when it disappeared

Bellara represents this yearning to find the truth of who the elves were after they lost their magic, immortality and a lot of their history

"they still left a lot of their artifacts and a lot of their, for lack of a better term, magical technology behind"

John Epler quote: "A lot of what they know of their past is based on myth, it's based on rumor. Bellara is a knowledge seeker. She wants to find out what's true, what's not; she wants to find the pieces of who the elves used to be and really understand what their story was, where they came from, as well as figure out where they're going next, and find a future for the elves. And within the context of The Veilguard, she joins the team, first of all, to help stop the gods because Bellara feels at least partially responsible since they are elven gods, but also to maybe find a little bit more of who they used to be. Because again, you're dealing with these elves that were around millennia ago that have now reemerged into the world, and who better to teach her who the elves used to be than them."

Magic's place in the world in DA:TV differs from prior games. In Tevinter and other spaces in DA:TV it's much more present by definition and the lore (though the devs wanted to make sure magic didn't violate previously-established lore rules)

Solas is a "determined and tragic character" who "tends to wallow". [nb, these are quotes from the article]. in contrast, Bellara has seen a lot of tragedy in her backstory (we will see this as we get into her arc), but instead of wallowing, she has forced herself to push past it. "She looks at her regrets, and she tells herself, 'I don't want to feel regret'

John: "Whereas again, Solas tends to wallow in his to a large degree. And it allows us to create a very big differentiation. Part of it is also because Solas is an ancient elf, whereas Bellara is a Dalish elf, but she just sees a problem and wants to solve it. She feels a tremendous amount of responsibility to her people [...] to the Dalish, and to the Veil Jumpers, and that drives her forward. That said, she does have her moments where she has doubt, she has moments where she has a more grim outlook, and there are moments where you realize that some of her sunny, optimistic outlook is kind of a mask that she puts on to hide the fact that she's hurting, she's in pain. But in general, she doesn't see any benefit to wallowing in those regrets."

[source]

[justinssportscorner]

Anna Merlan at Mother Jones:

By the time J.K. Rowling, Elon Musk, and Donald Trump were falsely referring to her as a man, the lies about Imane Khelif had already traveled halfway around the world. Last week, two Olympic boxers—Khelif, from Algeria, and Lin Yu-ting of Taiwan—were subjected to brutal international scrutiny about their sex and gender, and whether they were entitled to compete in women’s events; the attention on Khelif became particularly acrid after her opponent, Italian Angela Carini, quit 46 seconds into their bout, declaring that she had “never been hit so hard in my life.” A photo of the two women exiting the ring, Carini in tears, Khelif casting a glance, was widely shared, with people like Rowling—who’s promoted transphobic views for years, but has denied being transphobic—offering heated and derogatory commentary about Khelif.   “Could any picture sum up our new men’s rights movement better?” Rowling tweeted. “The smirk of a male who’s [sic] knows he’s protected by a misogynist sporting establishment enjoying the distress of a woman he’s just punched in the head, and whose life’s ambition he’s just shattered.” 

While the attacks on Khelif are of a piece with familiar recent Western controversies over who is allowed to participate in girls’ and women’s sports, many of the articles and individuals magnifying the debate relied on or relayed the claims of a discredited group with strong ties to the Russian government, a deep grudge against the International Olympic Committee, and a seemingly vested interest in proving that the IOC-run games are, as the group’s leader has claimed, a venue for “sodomy.”

In trying to unravel what led up to this moment, many individuals and news outlets cited a statement released by the official-sounding International Boxing Association, which stated that both Khelif and Yu-Ting had previously been disqualified from competing in the IBA-administered Women’s World Boxing Championships in March 2023. The women were barred from that competition, which took place in New Delhi, following tests the organization has not publicly clarified, citing privacy rules. At the time, IBA president Umar Kremlev told a Russian state news agency that the women had been found to have “XY chromosomes” and claimed the two had “pretended to be women” and “tried to deceive their colleagues.” Even if the IBA’s findings were true, having XY chromosomes does not automatically make someone male—women with Swyer syndrome, a rare genetic condition, have XY for instance. Nor are XY chromosomes proven to constitute an “unfair advantage,” although that is exactly what an IBA official claimed in a press conference on Monday. One pediatrics expert told NBC in 2009—one of the innumerable times this issue has been raised in women’s sports—that such a claim was “malarkey.”

[...] When Khelif and Yu-Ting were disqualified by the IBA back in New Delhi, skeptics questioned how it benefited Azalia Amineva, a Russian fighter. The women were not ruled ineligible until after they’d already competed and Khelif had won a bout against the previously undefeated Amineva. While IBA officials said the sequence of events was due to a week’s delay in being provided testing results, as the Associated Press has pointed out, the decision meant the Russian fighter’s perfect record was retroactively restored. Kremlev isn’t shy about expressing a broad fixation on gender and sexuality, with him, as the sports website Defector has pointed out, decrying the IOC on YouTube for promoting “outright sodomy and the destruction of traditional values.” In the wake of the Paris games’ opening ceremony, he blasted the spectacle, which featured queer performers, as “pure sodomy,” while saying the IOC “burns from pure devilry” and that its president is a “chief sodomite.” He also claimed that “men with changed gender are allowed to fight with women in boxing at the Olympics.” (Videos with such remarks have been helpfully subtitled in English to draw a wider, Western audience.) Last week, Kremlev announced the IBA would give $50,000 in prize money to the defeated opponents of Khelif and Yu-Ting.

[...] The Khelif affair captures English-speaking transphobes with rigid ideas about the nature of womanhood picking up on a politically motivated campaign from a discredited organization at open war with the IOC. Indeed, right-wing organizations in the United States, including the Independent Women’s Forum and CPAC, via its chair Matt Schlapp, have paid for sponsored posts on Musk’s X platform, calling her “a man“—posts that appear when users search for information on the controversy.

The International Boxing Association, which is a Kremlin-led body led by Umar Kremlev that is permanently banned from being the sanctioning body for Olympic boxers, has instigated a transphobic war against cis women boxers Lin Yu-ting and Imane Khelif.

The IBA issued politically-motivated disqualifications of the pair in 2023 that don’t stand up to scrutiny.

[musashi]

Musing on Movie!Nessa's Future in Part 2

A lot of people simultaneously expressing confusion alongside their celebration of Nessarose finally being played by a wheelchair user, because her being able to walk in act 2 is obviously a huge plot point--the spell cast on the shoes is what turns them into the ruby slippers which establishes the continuity and leads to a bunch of other plot threads, etc etc.

This is obviously the reason a lot of people give for her being played by an able-bodied actress in the past, it's obviously a bullshit reason because a huge majority of wheelchair users are ambulatory and can walk and stand for varying periods of time just fine. So like. They could have still had an ambulatory wheelchair user playing her, but I digress: the point is she is played by Marissa Bode in the movie. A wheelchair user, hurray!

These are just the opinions of someone who is not a wheelchair user so take them with a grain of salt (and please speak up if you have your own stuff to say as a member of the community!) but from what I can see as someone who's been insane about Wicked for about 15 years now, the movie did a lot of good for Nessa's character. Previously, the ableism toward her was baked into the metanarrative itself, but it's now been moved to a more realistic place--the characters within the story.

Previously Nessa was treated with little agency or autonomy not only by the characters but by the people writing the story. Most notably of all, her chair is constantly being grabbed and wheeled around by other characters. The movie corrects this--she is very rarely wheeled around except by her father (and he is called out for his coddling/infantilizing of her by Elphaba within 2 minutes of their introduction) and the one time a stranger tries to do this in what reads even to me as a genuinely traumatizing and far too familiar scene for any wheelchair user to have to sit through, Elphaba immediately fucking goes apeshit and starts throwing fucking furniture. Nessa herself also tries to advocate for herself and tell the professor in question to stop kidnapping/assaulting her and is, again, realistically not listened to.

This last bit obviously happens in the stage musical too but Nessa's own agency is much less pronounced. The movie adds little things here and there to give her more of that agency--Elphaba's protectiveness is much less "I have to help and watch over my poor disabled sister" and much more "I have to make sure no one underestimates or takes advantage of her." Even the plot detail that Elphaba was not there to be her caretaker but just to drop her off and make sure she got settled in her dorm adds leaps and bounds to Nessa's autonomy. Her and Boq's shared look in the opening ceremonies where they both bond beforehand at their inability to see over the crowds' standing ovation. And of course, the dance scene, where he no longer wheels her out but instead beckons her to follow him!

These little details add up in ways that are, at least in my opinion, very meaningful. They also extend to the production itself--where the sets were made accessible for Marissa and she was even allowed to do her own stunts, in her wheelchair! That part in the beginning where Elphaba levitates her was her in a harness in her fucking chair and all. Dope as FUCK.

So I am mentioning all of this because I think the people working on this movie have shown that they are unafraid to make changes to Nessa to be more respectful to her agency. The ableism she faces, which is still plentiful, is framed as such instead of just casually brushed off & baked into the narrative. By making these small changes, Nessa is not just an unfortunate stereotype of a disabled woman, but a real and fleshed-out person who is dealing with the consequences of those exact stereotypes in the society she lives in. I really liked that! I don't know how others feel about it, but I thought it was very well-shifted.

All that said, 'curing' your disabled character is obviously, like, the biggest no-no of writing a disabled character. And that plot beat is a huge one in every version of Wicked... so far. But here's the thing. We have a shot of Dorothy wearing the slippers. And they... are silver.

Why. Are they silver.

And they are silver in all of Dorothy's small little cameos. Every single one. Even though this shot, which was used primarily for promotional material to draw people in like "Hey! Wizord of Oz! This is What The Refrance!" did not make the choice to even suggest that they should ever be red. One of the most important pieces of iconography, consciously and notably absent.

I genuinely don't think Nessa's going to have her disability taken away in part 2. With how much love to this part of her has been done to the retooling of her character, I do not think it is a stretch to assume that they will find a way to advance the plot without removing her disability. I believe this because that is the right thing to do for Nessa, to ascend her character, however you feel about it--she should stay in her chair. She deserves to continue on the way she is.

I realize this little change effects a lot. But after seeing part one, I am confident they can do it and do it well and replace what the change takes away with something just as good. I have so much faith in the direction of these movies. I really, truly believe it will happen and it will be good and satisfying and perfect.

It might still happen, sure--Marissa might get a stunt double, or CGI, or some other brand of movie magic. The shoes may still get enchanted and stay silver to pay homage to the original Oz books. But I can't help but consider that idea and keep asking myself... why. That makes so much less sense. Why not give movie audiences the red slippers, draw them in with the imagery, give them one more lion cub in the bike basket or Boq talking about how much he cries or poppies putting the whole class to sleep. Why not give us the ruby slippers when you... could.

I think because this is going to be a big, long awaited improvement. And I think it is hiding there in plain sight.