#but I have my own thing going over here and it’s my canon and I get to decide the canon

[amoebab22]

I completely agree with this. I feel like this is one of the worst parts about Veilguard. My Inky is in the South, and while I firmly believe Orlais is the devil, it's very weird that Tevinter is just super chill about my elf Rook when my elf Inky had constant micro-aggressions as well as just out and out slurs hurled at her. Also I'm going on a rant about Mythal.

SPOILERS BELOW

Bellara also seems to just...kind of ignore that I'm an elf? Davrin makes more sense. He left his clan and joined the Wardens because he just didn't really vibe with the Dalish. He'd think of himself as a Warden first, I think. Wardens don't seem to give much of a shit about your race or religion or sexuality or whatever. In The Calling, they canonically don't give a fuck about the gay couple in their little group, or that Fiona is a mage and an elf. Absolutely irrelevant. So Davrin could start to fall into that mindset because frankly, it's a nice way to live. It's just not real outside the Wardens.

So when Bellara is like oh my god our gods are evil and Davrin is like eh, fuck 'em, that's actually about the most realistic reaction we've got re: elves. Davrin is just out here like yo I'm a little busy saving the world fuck them gods. Love Davrin.

Also, in Inquisition, there's concern that knowing Corypheus's artifact is Elvhen will cause violence against elves. So knowing it's the Elvhen gods causing all of this? The consequences of that, even if an elf Rook saves the world, should be looming for a Shadow Dragon in particular. Clearly Inquisitor Ameridan's race did nothing for the elves of Orlais. It was covered up over time. His sacrifice meant nothing to the humans. This should make Solas's plans to restore the elves much, much more tempting.

The way the Crows were presented REALLY bothered me as well as someone who romanced Zev. The Crows *tortured* him, sexually assaulted him, made him feel worthless, because it was seen as necessary. Sure, Lucanis being blood family might give him a very different perspective and experience, but Jacobus is just allowed to be a Crow and start his own house when he wouldn't kill? I mean, I totally agree that prolonged, public shaming and imprisonment is worse for this individual, but like.... That's not how the Crows work. They kill stuff for money. Sure, they run Antiva and would be pretty pissed off about the Antaam taking their territory I'm sure, and they might work with Rook since Rook helped Lucanis and he's a big deal to the First Talon. But like... It should be a hard choice to work with them for Shadow Dragon Rook, because SLAVERY.

I feel like the pullback on slavery is to make Solas's actions seem more ambiguous, and to make it seem like there was some equal power between him and Mythal. But I have a very hard time believing he was never Mythal's slave. Also, a spirit of BENEVOLENCE? Get ABSOLUTELY fucked. She was fine with SLAVERY. Thought she could just slowly phase it out, maybe. Yeah, no .

Because here's the thing: slavery is evil. Whatever you have to do to stop slavery, short of participating or killing slaves, is pretty easy to justify. Maybe I'm just John Brown-pilled from living in Kansas a good chunk of my life, but killing slavers and slave owners and freeing slaves is MORALLY CORRECT. FULL STOP. A "kind" master is still a master. Sure, you can give them a chance to free their slaves and make reparations first, but waiting to vote slavery out didn't work. The US had to go to war. Haiti had to rebel (and give basically all its GDP to France for like two hundred years. Fuck Orlais AND France).

The only reason my Inky was able to befriend Dorian, at first, was their shared trauma in going to the future. That changes people (that whole quest fucked me up the first time I did it) and I think my elf Inky was looking for reasons to trust Dorian and ignore the system he participated in. She didn't have to see it so it seemed less real. He's an altus so he doesn't own the estate. He seems open to other opinions! And some part of him knows it's wrong, or he wouldn't be so awkward upon talking to Inky the first time.

But Solas's inherent and never fully overcome distrust of Dorian isn't wrong. Solas needs to see action; words aren't enough. I don't blame him.

This is the same softening we saw of the Templars in DA2 and Inquisition, but if you read The Stolen Throne and The Calling and play DAO, it's very clear that mages are oppressed by the Chantry and live in horrible conditions. The ones in Lake Calenhad are described as pale and kinda sickly looking (or something like that) because they don't get any fucking sunlight. Fiona is happy to go to the circle at first because she was a SLAVE in Orlais (Honestly Loghain's hatred of Orlais is justified even though his actions aren't). If you decide to allow the right of annulment or whatever in DAO, Zevran calls it genocide. Zevran isn't one to mince words. He doesn't pretend he isn't a killer or that he wasn't tortured.

My Inky and my Rook are both 'no gods no masters' types, which is why I think clan Lavellan sent their First on a risky mission supposedly by herself (got real sick of her shit lol). As a result, she heavily sympathizes with Solas's cause, and would have happily joined him in bringing down the Veil if he'd just agreed to spend time making sure as few people died as possible, particularly after she meets the Avvar and sees how spirits really are. She knows Solas better than anyone, and even without a full explanation, she'd know that his reasons for doing this were morally right. He freed her people. He never meant to hurt them. He can't live with his guilt. Inky (who in my game was more like 30 because I don't think she could have made decisions or led on her own at 20, nor would she have been a studied enough mage) wants freedom for everyone. She's chaotic good.

Rook is a Shadow Dragon who killed slavers a little too hard for an organization dedicated to killing slavers (based Rook). They're also chaotic good, and a bit of an idiot, bless them, who kinda sees everything as a nail because they have a hammer. They see slavery, they fight it. Fuck the consequences. Solas did the same.

So why is Rook not bringing up slavery a lot? Why is Rook only finding out that Solas freed slaves on the regular at the beginning of the game? Did Varric just decide that wasn't worth bringing up to a person whose entire life revolves around ending slavery? Why is Rook not having an existential crisis after talking to Solas and finding out the truth of his past in his memories?

Look, all I'm saying is that I don't understand why more people aren't angry with Mythal and why no one is talking about slavery and racism. The whole point of fantasy and sci-fi, and the point of Dragon Age, is to critique modern society through thinly veiled references. That's why people get so passionate about Star Trek. And yeah, yes, it's necessarily going to make a piece of media more niche, or people are going to bitch about it (especially gamer bros my dude calm down, sorry something is very briefly not about you), but it makes a game *good* and lasting

BG3 did a good job of exploring the themes of trauma and power imbalance, and while some characters I think needed more fleshing out (Wyll my beloved, I owe you a lengthy fanfic for the injustice done to you), it was particularly powerful in Astarion. The people are ready for real exploration of real issues. We always have been. Backing off was a mistake.

ANYWAY I have feelings and none of my friends share my special interest. Here you go.

Why Fenris could Never Cameo in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

In the run up to Dragon age: The Veilguard, I was almost certain that Fenris would be our main legacy character from previous games. Not only has he been central in the comics released between DAI and DATV, he is an escaped Tevinter slave who's plot revolved around magisters, magic and the structural prejudices surrounding elves in Thedas. Not only that, but he's canonically in Tevinter killing slavers currently so he's geographically in the right place for us to meet him.

About halfway through the game though, it was clear to me: Fenris could never cameo in The Veilguard. Because he'd break it.

How the Veilguard treats Thedas is...odd to me, to say the least. I will be writing another post about how much I adored the expanded big lore in this game (the titans, ancient elves were spirits, where the blight came from etc.) and yet while these large lore expansions worked for me, the actual culture of modern Thedas is entirely softened, its sharp edges filed down until it's a sanitised fantasy world devoid of what made the franchise so vibrant and compelling in the first place.

So let's start with Fenris and slavery. In all three games, the reality of slavery is pushing at the corners of the world. In DAO Loghain allows Tevinter Magisters to enslave elves in order to raise money for his war effort. In DA2 Fenris is fighting to be free from slavers who will not leave him be, let alone the reminders that the city was built by slaves which are everywhere. In DAI one of the two possible mini-bosses is Calpurnia who was a slave, and characters such as Gatt and Dorian both show us how much slavery is tied into Tevinters culture and success.

But DATV the first game actually set in Tevinter where we get to see the famed Minrathous...it's like the game purposefully wants to avoid the issue. I can feel it tilting the camera away to not allow me to see. Slavery is mentioned, but never talked about in depth or as a specifically ELVEN problem in Tevinter. This might have been done to be less problematic, it feels ignored.

We are in DOCK TOWN. We are at the DOCKS. You would think that slaves from all over Thedas who are being smuggled and bought by various groups would be everywhere. You would think that the injustice in dock town would be partly built on the back of ships we've seen in the comics crammed with elves in chains. This is the world Dragon age set up for us. And yet...nothing. zilch. A tiny easily skippable side quest where we free a couple of venatori slaves, but only one of whom is an elf.

None of our Tevinter characters seem to have been influenced by their culture even a little bit when it comes to how they view elves; there is no moment when Neve fucks up and says something prejudiced, no moment when Bellara or Davrin are distrustful of her for being a Tevinter mage.

The same goes for Zevran; a character who epitomised the issues with the crows. The crows have consistently been characterised as very morally dubious assassins who kill for the highest bidder and who buy children on the slave market and torture them as they grow in order to assure that they reach maturity able to withstand torture without giving away a client's name. Zevran is very explicit about the fact that if you fail a contract your life is forefit.

Nobody responds particularly to you if you're an elf. Nobody trusts rook less for it in Tevinter. Nobody treats Rook any differently. Even DAI had better mechanics for this; with nobles in Orlais less likely to trust you as an elf.

Considering one of the main plot points of this game and what makes Solas sympathetic is the fact that he was fighting against the slavery of ancient elves...you'd think the game might want to mirror that in modern Thedas. It might want to show us how characters fighting to end slavery in Tevinter are similar to Solas and how the society Solas fought against was similar to the one that characters we love such as Fenris have fought against in modern Thedas. Maybe we'd want to explore how in a world of slavery like this, how could the answer NOT be to tear it all down? Maybe we should have that option at the end of the game so it really can chose whether we agree with Solas and his plans or not.

Adding Fenris to this game would entirely break the game because Fenris refuses to allow you to look away from this horror. He is a sympathetic character who had to learn to trust mages again because of course he didn't trust them. Of course he didn't. Fenris wouldn't allow the camera to shift focus because he's literally covered in the lyrium scars that show how slaves are used as experiments in Tevinter. Fenris WOULD question Neve on how she feels about elves and slaves. Fenris WOULD have things to say about Lucanis and the crows (let alone the fact Lucanis is an abomonation). So he could never be in this game; he'd drop a bomb on it's carefully constructed blinders to the very society its supposed to be set in.

And yet, in DATV, the crows are presented as...a found family of misfits and orphans? The politician who opposes the crows having absolute power in Antiva is framed as a comically evil idiot who doesn't understand that the crows are ontologically good. Yet...they're NOT. Crows in this game act more like a secret rebel group than an assassin organisation. We see no crow taking contracts with the VERY RICH venatori magisters despite being hired killers. We see crows just refuse to kill people despite having a contract because 'its crueler to leave them alive'. The crows don't feel like the crows here, they feel like a softened version of a cool assassin group who are cool because they wear black and purple.

Our pirate group are also sanitised; the Lords of Fortune are good pirates who only steal treasure that's not culturally significant. Theyve clearly read the modern critiques of the British Museum and have decided to explicitly stop anyone levelling similar critiques at them. There is no faction of the Lords of Fortune who aren't like this, no internal arguments about it. Everyone just. Agrees. And is able to accurately tell what a cultural artifact is vs. what treasure that you can have yourself is. Rather than showing us why a pirate stealing cultural artifacts might be bad (like in da2 where such a situation literally causes a coup and a war) it just tells us it's bad. But also pirates are cool so we still want them in our world.

This issue seaps into Thedas and drains it of any of the interesting complexity and ability to SAY anything that this franchise had before this game. It becomes a game about telling and not showing rather than the other way around. The games have ALWAYS asked questions about oppressive structural systems and their interplay with society, religion and culture and how these things can affect even the most well meaning character. Dragon age at its best IS a game about society and how society functions both for and against it's characters and what happens to societies built on cruelty and indifference. The best bad guys dragon age has given us are those who are bad because they embody these systems or have been shaped by them. Our main characters have had to wrestle with questions surrounding how to exist in these systems, fight against them, learn and grow.

Yet every group you come across in DATV is sanitised and cleaned up to the point of being as non problematic as humanly possible. None of our cast of characters have to wrestle with where they came from or the world that shaped them. None of them have to confront their own biases. They start the game perfectly non-problematic and end it that way too.

And this just...isn't what Dragon Age has been in the past. It isn't why I love the franchise. The whole game just felt, in a way, hollow. And this was a CHOICE and it is why the legacy characters are few and far between. Too many dragon age characters are just too...angry and complex for this game. You can feel them pulling their punches on this one. I have to imagine they did this because they didn't want to be criticised or have too much controversy? But I think it honestly goes far too much in the other direction and just makes it bland.

I can't imagine what I say here will be unique, but it is the basis for a LOT of my other thoughts on this game so I wanted to get it out of the way first. The softened Thedas and characters make this game by far the weakest in the franchise.

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far��� unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to my overall taglist please let me know - I am no longer creating individual fic taglists though. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs. Tag lists are a bit funky at the moment, so I recommend following me or my fic account @thelightsandtheroses-fics (you can enable notifications for that account) if you want to ensure you're up to date

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

[riddlers-roulette]

luv ur arcane post!!! totally agree. like it’s so frustrating?? i was going thru the caitvi tag the other day and i saw a post where someone was responding to an ask that said smth like “i noticed cait always resorts to sexual behavior when vi is emotional” and the askee was like “omg yeah ive noticed that too vi’s body is constantly a tool” except op went on for a bit basically. literally was just two clowns going back and forth. op was a vi x oc shipper too so explains the cait bashing lol

I’m glad you liked my post anon!

Also wanna preface this by saying (more as a general thing than a message to you anon!) that while I appreciate the asks, I in no way want drama brought to my blog! So please, if you all have a gripe with a blog in particular or something specific, I am asking you not to bring it here. A general fandom or character related misconception or gripe is fine however! Thank you :)

Now onto the actual ask—while I’m not an x reader or x oc fan myself, and never have been, it being something I never myself understood, I do know that oc shipping is something a lot of people do, and I’m not going bash it. Fanfiction takes all types after all.

I am going to point out though the absurdity of the “Caitlyn always uses sexual behavior whenever Vi is emotional” statement is absolutely absurd. First of all, the sesbian lex act, which happened at a time Vi was distressed and emotional, was initiated by Vi. It was initiated by Vi after Caitlyn proved her deep care for Vi, admitting that she had moved all the guards so that Vi could have an easier time breaking her sister—the person who kidnapped Cait, killed her mother and countless innocents, amongst other things—out of prison. Caitlyn, who once, in the throes of grief, asked Vi to put on an enforcers badge and help her track down her sister, was now admitting to giving Vi everything she needed to help said sister escape.

This concession coming at a time when Vi was doubting herself and fully expecting Caitlyn to be feeling betrayed instead of accepting. Vi moved in for the kiss first. Vi initiated the sesbian lex. And Caitlyn doesn’t let Vi go into it blind. She pulls away and explains that she was with someone while Vi was away—something that wasn’t cheating I might add, as they had ended things in Act I. And, “was with someone” implies either a) her thing with Maddie is over, or b) her thing with Maddie was a FWB type thing, something non-exclusive.

Look at the end of the day, if you want to write an x oc fic, that’s absolutely fine! You don’t need to create a new narrative and pass it as canon to do that though. It’s not required to bash a character just to justify shipping your fave with one of of your own?

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Jimmy Headcanons: No Accountability (Mouthwashing)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! Now I know on YouTube the majority of you voted for Daisuke! But this one was requested so it will be done before that! 

(Disclaimer: Jimmy is insane and is a horrible piece of poo! But he is not yandere in canon this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters, yanderes, villains, and such is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! You Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! 

Disclaimer: Jimmy in canon R-Worded Anya, is not a good character and he would be an even worse yandere. Probably worse than Valentino from Hazbin Hotel, because at least Valentino is up front about his poo behavior while Jimmy is not! 

Twigger Warning: There is mention of the Sa and other stuff, as Jimmy in the canon is not a good character or man, so he wouldn't care about consent or your choice in the matter, this is darker, proceed with caution!) 

Please enjoy this chapter here!] 

-Base Yandere Headcanons with Jimmy from Mouthwashing- 

.Jimmy is a very manipulative man and a narcissist.

.He fell for you and wanted you to be his and his alone.

He is the type of yandere who wants to have complete control over you and have you love him.

.He is the type of yandere who is possessive, controlling, and is very much the jealous type.

.He would be possessive in that he does not want to share you with anyone, not even your family.

.You did not need your family when you had him! You did not need anyone but him! 

.He would even manipulate you into thinking that you did not need anyone other than him, that all you have to do is depend on him and him alone. 

.That is right this will come up again and again in this of him being a super manipulative yandere. 

.He is the jealous yandere type which ties in with his possessive yandere side. 

.Because he sees you as his property and his partner that if you were to spend too much time with anyone else or to get close to anyone else he would get jealous. 

.In his mind you belong to him and he does not like to share so of course he would be jealous of the smallest things. 

.Daisuke shares a sugar packet with you. You are clearly are seeing the rich kid. 

.Swansea treats you like a father figure would, you clearly are trying to replace him as the man you need to rely on in your life. 

.You have sleepovers with Anya, this is where he really projects his insecurities and flat out would think you are sleeping with her and cheating on him. 

.As a Nasrscisst and a yandere he would project his own issues and thoughts on you and his rivals. 

.He also is a very delulu yandere. Being so delusional that you are teasing him and also trying to make him jealous. 

.And he is obsessive over that, sometimes grabbing you and telling you that he "Knows exactly what you are doing." and "That you would not get away with teasing him and or making him jealous." 

.He feels that he would be better as a leader and would be the best on top and have control not only of you but of the crew as well. 

.He then could be the hero and the man who saved the day. 

.He does care for you on some level and with that he would try and make things right with you. 

.In his words take responsibility for what he has done to you and how he fucked up with you. 

.It could go either way with how twisted his mind was. 

.He would be the type to manipulate you and gaslight you, making you feel crazy and that it is your fault that he is so jealous. 

.Very toxic, not very demure, most certainly not mindful! 

.He is a selfish yandere so would rarely put his concern with what you want or need. 

.Also he is a yandere that would borderline force himself on you, may it be by getting you drunk or high and taking advantage of you. 

.Or manipulating and gaslighting you into having sex with him even though you would have tried to say no. 

.In his mind you agreed to it so you wanted it and you enjoyed it so you had to have wanted it. 

.Also he would be the type to blame you if you are walking around the way you do and dressed the way you are. 

.You were pretty much asking for it, that is what Jimmy would think, because he did not see him as doing anything wrong. 

.To him you were his and it did not matter if you said no because in his mind you were teasing him to rile him up. 

.He is a real piece of poo and one of the more worst yanderes that I have had to do. 

.He would be the type of yandere who does not take accountability for his actions. 

.He deals with rivals by more or less bullying them, manipulating them, and even physically removing them from around you. 

.He can only think of himself and once again the projection game is strong. 

.He knows that he wants you to all himself, so anyone that even looks at you let alone gets close to you is obsessed with you too! 

.Which means that it is his job to get rid of his rivals (most of the time they are not even his rivals in the first place just him being delusional) so that they cannot be close to you. 

.He would go as far as even killing them if he had to and he would tell you that he had been the good guy and was keeping you safe and sound. 

.He would rather die than admit that he has ever hurt you.

.He will never be able to admit that he has hurt you and that he is not good for you. 

He confesses to you one night on the ship, and he would most likely not take no for an answer. 

.If you accept his love it will be smooth, but toxic for the most part and he would adore you more than anyone else. 

.Of course, you would still be on edge with his temper. 

.If you reject him and make it out without being harmed by him, he would be super petty. 

.He would also be the type of yandere to play it off like he had been joking and why would anyone want you anyways? 

.That he could do so much better than you, and that you would have been lucky to have him. 

.He had his ego hurt and he was going to make sure you thought you were the unlucky one and that you would regret it. 

.He does not give up with leering at you or desiring you, he would make you his mark his words. 

.In his mind you were making him work for you~ and Work for you he will. 

.Side note if you were in the game he would have fed you a part of Curly's legs and also would have put you in the pod instead of Curly. 

.Jimmy my boy is an insane and unhinged yandere that is for sure. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[thegeminisage]

lucanis/rook good. lucanis/neve good. lucanis/davrin DEFINITELY good. but i think we are sleeping on lucanis/harding. here's a link to some of their banter, though i'm not sure it's everything in the game.

harding starts the game casually threatening lucanis (like davrin) with her very fancy demon-killing arrow. and yet, aside from the one line where he points out that she only has the ONE arrow, instead of getting bitchy with her the way he does with davrin, lucanis seems to respect her bravery. he notes in another cutscene (i'll get to it later) that her being so small physically might have made it easier for other people to intimidate her when she was young, so it's possibly he was making incorrect assumptions about her based on her size and easy-going nature, and is surprised to find she's made out of pretty tough stuff after all, despite of those things

she then throws him totally off-guard by assuring him she isn't brave at all, but terrified of him (or spite), and she knows that if he does lose control, it won't even be his fault - but she'll put him down no matter how scared she is. lucanis's reaction to this is to first try to laugh it off as brutal honesty, and then grow sober and TELL HER TO KEEP HER BOW CLOSE? one little shred of sympathy and kindness totally obliterated whatever combative sarcasm he was gearing up to give her with that "only one arrow" business.

later, lucanis urges her to watch their enemies rather than him - he's genuinely concerned that she's so scared of him and distracted by him she's going to get herself hurt.

lucanis, who canonically doesn't sleep and gets lots of bad dreams, talks through all of harding's dreams with her - from the silly and mundane to the genuinely terrifying - and goes out of his way to buy her spearmint to help with her nightmares. like he cares SO MUCH

after weisshaupt (on my playthrough, anyway) we learn that harding has since GIVEN her demon-killing arrow to him to prove to him she trusts him, and he wants to give it back to prove that he trusts her. it's genuinely very sweet

also after weisshaupt, harding comforts lucanis and tries to get him to stop torturing himself over his missed shot at ghilan'nain. she's not alone in doing this, but it's still good

COFFEE SCENE. not only does this scene prove lucanis pays close attention to harding, he looks at her with so much fondness here...and after this scene, their party banter involves her working through what he's pointed out about her. his dialogue implies that she shouldn't change to appease other people - because he cares about her well-being AND because he thinks she's great just the way she is.

NOT ONLY THAT, but harding realizes lucanis's evaluation was so keen because he himself is a little bit of a people-pleaser - and with that observation, once again manages to catch him off-guard. she surprises him throughout their relationship

one of my favorite bits with them is comparing notes on their various magical situations. both of them are firmly non-mages who have been unwillingly saddled with magical or magic-adjacent abilities. lucanis is the first to figure out why constantly using magic always makes her hungry (from experience) and he can also relate to being completely freaked out the first time her magical abilities manifested.

near the end of the game, lucanis admits that harding's reputation with the bow is more than earned, and even expresses interest in working with her in the future, after the war against the gods has ended, for an absurd amount of coin. i've seen people point to this banter as proof that lucanis doesn't know the value of money ("it's a banana, michael, how much could it cost? ten dollars?"), but he does his own shopping - he absolutely does know the value of money, he just ALSO places a high value on harding's skills and trustworthiness. i would dare to venture he is smitten!

also, this. OWWW MY HEART

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think that Ms. Bustier is overhated?

Not particularly. I don't have any strong feelings about her, but she's clearly a terrible teacher who is in way over her head. I totally understand why she sets some people off. If she was a real person that I actually had to deal with, then she'd probably set me off, too, because she so perfectly encapsulates toxic positivity. If you're not familiar with that term, then here's a quick definition:

Toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead. Although setting aside difficult emotions is sometimes necessary temporarily, denying negative feelings long term is harmful because it can prevent people from processing their emotions and overcoming their distress.

Read that definition and then look at this scene from Zombiezou:

Marinette: But Miss Bustier, it's so not fair! It was Chloé, pulling another...Chloé! And...I'm the one who's getting in trouble?! Miss Bustier: Of course you're not in trouble, don't worry! As the class representative, I want you to set a good example for your classmates. Don't give into feelings of anger. Try to forgive Chloé instead. Marinette: I don't get it... Chloé is the meanest person I've ever known. Miss Bustier: Come on... There are much worse people in Paris right now than Chloé Bourgeois. I'm sure people like Chloé are capable of great things. The problem is, they only think of themselves. They don't understand the meaning of love, and we can't force them to change. But perhaps we can show them by setting a good example. That's why Marinettes are so important in today's world; because they have a lot of love to give. I'm counting on you. Marinette: Yes, Miss Bustier.

This is toxic positivity in action. Marinette is told to set aside her extremely valid feelings as if anger is a terrible thing, but it isn't. All emotions have their place and ignoring them can do real harm, a lesson that Miraculous really struggles with. It seems to see "negative" emotions as bad and they're really not. What matters is how we express and address our emotions, not that we experience them. If you want to see a family friendly piece of media do this topic right, then go watch Pixar's Inside Out.

There's also the fact that Chloé is never punished for her actions in this episode. She ruined a gift that probably took Marinette hours and yet Miss Bustier puts the onus to fix things on Marinette, blaming the victim and doing nothing to actually fix the situation. Canon mildly complicates this with Chloé's father's willingness to meddle, making punishing her apparently impossible, but Miss Bustier doesn't even acknowledge that here. The stated logic is that you need to be nice to your bully and that will hopefully magically fix things, which is a terrible lesson that I don't want any kid to learn! What kind of logic is that?

I'll admit that I'm a big fan of "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind," but that doesn't mean that you should never acknowledge harm or fight back. It just means that you need to be measured in your responses and pick your battles wisely. If this episode was about that, then I'd be fine with it, but that's not the lesson here. There is no point where the wrong done to Marinette is even mildly acknowledged. Miss Bustier's initial reaction to seeing Marinette's ruined gift is:

Miss Bustier: Well, I think this present is wonderful. It'll be my new cosmetics bag! Then I'll be able to think of both of you every time I use it.

And we go straight from that to the toxic positivity.

Something is wrong with this woman. You shouldn't even take this approach with preschoolers! While I could see this being a good final solution to something like Chloé scribbling on Marinette's drawing, Chloé's behavior still needs to be addressed. She is still the one in the wrong here. The one whose behavior needs to change.

This is one of many cases where there are two paths to take with this character. The writers clearly want Miss Bustier to be a wonderful teacher, but they wrote a victim-blaming disaster who shouldn't be in charge of anyone. If you're ever adapting her, then it's up to you if you want to redesign her into her intended self or if you want to lean into the bad writing. I think both paths have merit because the writing is so bad that there is no way to make canon Caline work as a good teacher. She's too fundamentally flawed so you either acknowledge how awful she is or do a major overhaul where she's much less forgiving and actually acknowledges things like the Chloé problem.

[pumpkinsy0]

Can we get head canons of the Shepard/ Curtis gang thanksgiving that Ponyboy and Curly would inevitably and accidentally make happen

cant b thankful for SHIT w these two, we need them away from everyone else

•i wanna talk about pony and curly as adults who moved in together so thats the papercut we get this post god damn it,,,they wanna celebrate w their family

•is this where i come out and say i dont think the shepard gang is AS familial as the curtis gang??? like they have their moments and some of the shepard gang is closer to the actual shepards than others, bit not ALL of the shepard gang is seen as a family, just like 3ish and when it comes to curlys own gang, into his adulthood hes only rlly cool w one of them so hes in there too

•ANYWAYS, usually they pick a family to visit, butthe plan WAS that curlys part of the family would come over, but then most of em called in to cancel, so pony just invited his gang over

•howeverrrrr curlys family schedule changed so they COULD visit, but curly literally just forgot to tell pony, even HE somehow forgot they were coming over, and when they showed up at the front door when the curtis gang was already inside u can bet how confused they were

•especially the curtis gang (yes including pony), cause they can handle the shepards being there, thats fine, not expected, but fine!!! however whoooo r these random ppl w em and do they know them??? did they sneak in here for food🤔🤔🤔

•a big reason y everyone is even there IS for food so THANKFULLY both gangs brought some food and for a while everything was alright, but half of the mfs here have a blackhole as a stomach so the food could rlly only go so far

•bc of curlys fuck up hes the one who has to keep going outside to get the food n stuff, minus a turkey tho bc pony and curly tried doing that thing where u deep fry a turkey but they nearly blew the whole block up so thats just out of the equation, yknow what was the main dish??? mac n cheese of course and tim was the one who made it, thank god cause pony was gonna whip out the velveeta 😩😩

•if theres one things white americans can cook, its pies, and pony was in charge of em, so u know that things gonna b sweet as hell AND he had to hit curlys, two, and sodas hand away from stealing a taste before it was done

•just realized this also means everyone would have to see the dirty joke variation of the “kiss the cook” apron curly bought, just ruining everyone appetite,,,i hate them both,,,

•no matter what age, curly and pony will always go on that walk where u knowwww these mfs r just out to get high, and half the gang r totally smokers, so when it happened more than half the people attending just randomly left

•the fight over left overs was insane, that one vid w that guy going “THATS MY PLATE” its like that

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A new challenger approaches (slowly)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[i-know-honey]

Just to kind of establish: I have not at all abandoned Way Laboratories (despite my long silence) I just haven’t gotten the chance to finish the last thing I posted yet I promise Dr. Way will be back and I want to establish now that I do intended to keep Way Laboratories going - I don’t know what’s going to become of the Secretary character in the new lore we’re getting and I don’t know how thorny she may become, but whatever I have going on in my little universe remains completely separate from that as it was built and established long before we had any of this info. That may seem obvious but I think it bears saying because it kinda sorta looks like our dear secretary is gonna turn out to be an agent of fascism a bit and that may be. A bit awkward given the shameless nature of my universe. So just to say it we have fully diverged from any future cannon at this point there’s a fork in the story canon is going one way and I’m going the other. Okay? Okay 💗

[the-silver-chronicles]

Kinktober Day 22 & 31: "Breeding Kink" & "Aftercare" - For OTP: "Boa Lurking In The Bliss" (Silva Omar x Faith Seed)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Breeding" and "Aftercare", you'll find it also includes ones such as "Praise", "Oral", "Biting" and a little bit of "Dirty Talk".

Hey everyone, here's my second and last contribution to Kinktober for this month. Here's a oneshot devoted to the main couple of the Far Cry section of The Silver Chronicles; Silva and Faith as you've probably guessed. From the mature tag and the title you can probably already tell that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's a few warnings as to what this oneshot contains:

CW: Shameless smut, Minor angst, Cunnilingus, slight vaginal fingering, slight teasing, stroking a dick to erection (I don't think a handjob necessarily fits the context because Faith doesn't let Silva cum), P in V sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, creampie, Silva's kind of unsubtle breeding kink and both women's obvious praise kinks. Includes a lack of contraceptives here (not the fault of either women, Kamski's flaw was that he thought Silva would be like him, miserable and single (neither words correlate nor share a connotation connection with each other here) and also doesn't take into consideration that majority of people don't think like him) and discussions of (getting) pregnancy. Plus the unspeakable horror of including the vaguest hint of a plot in a smut oneshot.

But also enthusiastic consent!

Okay now for the ONLY two Trigger Warnings: Minor reference to past religious and child abuse. These aren't the center focus of the oneshot and aren't explicit either, but these are something that are at the very least inferred (I hope that's the right word) to during Silva's POV thought process in the beginning, but not during the smut itself. I only make these warnings because it's better to be safe than sorry.

You may also notice Faith is a little different (possibly) personality-wise, and I imagine its because of being influenced by certain characters (like say... Sharky and the Drubmans (mostly Adelaide)) and this is set many months post-game and Collapse, and both she and Silva (plus Azriel) have taken shelter in Silva's prepper bunker, so I imagine at this point a certain level of character growth and change has occurred. I’ve also given a short personal explanation in the tags as well.

Author's Final Edit: I've been working on this nonstop for four weeks, at differing states in mind but refused to leave it unfinished, so apologies in advance if it's not that good or even a little rushed (as you can likely tell it's no longer October) than what I originally planned. Anyway gonna post this now and hope for the best.

I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Anyway, enjoy the fic under the cut:

Title: This Sweet Leisure

Series: The Silver Chronicles (Far Cry 5)

Character/s: Silva Omar (Deputy OC), Faith Seed, Azriel Omar (mentioned OC), Irene Neon (past referenced OC), Persephone Neon (past referenced OC), Elsa Omar (past referenced OC), Kamski Neon (past referenced OC), Tracey Lader (referenced) and Father Adam Omar (Barely referenced OC and thank the Gods, he's super dead).

Words: 7,734

Quiet moments had never been something Silva thought she could afford to enjoy.

She was familiar with various forms of quiet though. Many of which denied her comfort, including peace, or even leisure.

She had experienced a cold kind of quiet throughout her youth. It was tense and foreboding, a wordless warning hanging over their heads like the ill-omen of a guillotine. The only sounds allowed were the roaring winds of a wrathful blizzard outside and the slight clinking of plates and utensils shared between two quivering hermanas.

She had spent many nights as a child in a quiet that was always too quiet. That was the worst kind of quiet for Silva. Dread left her restless, sleep evaded her like the answers she constantly prayed for, haunted by anticipation as she listened for the recognizable signs of Father's approaching footsteps outside her bedroom door...

But the most familiar quiet she's known would be that of loss and mourning. The moments where silence would replace where there should be joyous laughter, or whispered promises, or the normalcy of conversation.

Where she expected a small form to run around the house once she exited her room, her little one's delighted giggles filling the room as her ginger bangs bounced from her enthused race... she found nothing and the heaviness would weigh down on her heart once more.

She would spend periods lamenting on each and every loss, whether it be family, friends, her amor or her beloved hija.

When trapped in this quiet, her mind would betray her... always following the same maze in the labyrinth of her thoughts, with each memory visited and revisited while she punished herself for the grave inescapable sin of not being strong enough, fast enough, doing enough.

Simply put, the quiet moments remind her of how no matter what, she'll never be enough to keep those she cared for. She found no escape through sleep either; her imagination was often the most cruel.

Punished by constant night terrors, which only grew more frequent from there.

Perhaps that is why she enjoyed the action, those fast-paced minutes that squandered on hours. The wars, the fighting, the very act of survival, the violence she despised, justifying her use of it as necessary and right.

The very same violence that took pieces of her until she was nearly hollow from the high. But at least she couldn't feel anything but the emptiness afterwards... distracted from the grief.

What a twist of fate that, at the end of the very collapse of society, all she could have would be quiet moments. For approximately seven years, she would have to live in the very bunker she had dismissed as a paranoid and needless precaution, even for the likes of Silva herself.

In spite of this, she had kept it well-maintained. At least to honor one of Elsa's lasting gifts to her.

And even though Elsa and Persephone were long gone from her life, Silva would be forever grateful of it since it had saved the last two of her most precious remaining loved ones; Faith and Azriel.

It was a rough few months at first, for herself especially, but they made it work. A routine had been set up, tasks given for each of them, and both Faith and Azriel seemed to have put aside their animosity, for the sake of Silva at least.

Silva, though prohibited from putting too much strain on her muscles, had recovered enough to do the laborious tasks that the other two were unable to do, as well as keep track of their inventory, rationing the power and water they were using, keeping track of the days by making calendars (at least enough so they have a fraction of an idea of when they should leave), keeping the only functional clock left out of Azriel's reach, general cooking and proceeding with Azriel's education (and ensuring her pequeño inventora utilizes the parts they don't need for her machinations).

Usually these tasks were completed with the assistance of both Faith and Azriel.

Faith utilized the knowledge she retained from the Eden's Gate to correctly double-check and correspond with the information Silva gave, as well as support a garden from within the bunker that gave them all fresh fruit and vegetables besides the preservatives, aided Silva in Azriel's education with subjects Silva had less expertise in and was the only person in the bunker with any specialization in medicine, besides Silva's apparently redundant strategy of "ignore the problem until it starts affecting you personally" or "only treat problem when close to the nearest convenient bandage, stitches or medic".

(Silva could admit Faith had a point about her reckless behavior).

Azriel's days were mostly spent assisting Silva, or Faith when the girl chose to stop detesting the other woman. She attended her "classes", whether it be academical or practical, so she'd be as prepared as she could be for whatever was outside the bunker doors.

Azriel's hobby in engineering proved to be handy, with Silva and Faith both stumped on the workings of such a subject despite their reliance on the bunker's generator and water filter.

They'd have their meals together, and would often spend time in the same living space once their tasks were done. When it came to nightly routines, Silva would bathe Azriel herself, and would share her own shower with Faith as to not waste water.

Those moments were strictly kept tame, given Azriel's close proximity from the bedroom and the necessity of the water. However, Silva didn't mind, as she and Faith got to be closer, with hands touching the places neither wanted others to see. Their scars were only for them to admire, neither holding shame nor judgement as they took care of each other.

After cleaning off, Silva would put Azriel to bed in one of the spare bedrooms she had claimed for herself as Faith shut off any non-essential power for the night, before both she and Silva retired to their shared designated master bedroom.

That was where the quiet became more prominent.

It wasn't so bad; sometimes one or both of them would be able to drift off. Other times, sleep would evade them, and they just enjoyed each others company, sharing stories and jokes, their voices barely above a whisper. Often they'd talk about the plans for the next day, perhaps wonder about the future... or even confess their own fears, quelling doubts. A peaceful quiet.

There were few nights when these fears took form as nightmares, interrupting their rests. Such nights were spent comforting the other in an understanding silence, few words exchanged while they found warmth in each other's arms. A comforting quiet.

But those night terrors were becoming far and few as the months passed, and Silva found herself cherishing the quiet as much as she did the time spent with her little family.

Though months passed, there was a slight change from the routine, one night where Silva rediscovered a quiet she hadn't experienced in a long while, and would revisit the following weeks.

Although sexual intimacy wasn't a first for either Silva or Faith, after the Collapse, they prioritized the ensured function of the bunker, recovering from their own physical and mental wounds and Azriel's well-being over their passion. It was the practical thing to do in that situation.

However, so much time had passed since the Collapse had occurred, and though the intimacy they did share was cherished and fulfilling, there was a familiar desire that burned patiently; the want to be connected, the need to be closer, to make the other sing with pleasure, and to share their love and affection through one of the few ways they could.

After Silva tucked Azriel in for the night, she had returned to the master bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to the sight of Faith awaiting her by the foot of their bed.

Silva shared a soft smile with her amor, making her way over to Faith to give a nightly embrace and kiss before bed.

Faith had stopped Silva with a hand on her chest, green eyes looking deeply into grey as the former herald tried to put her desires into words.

"I want you," she said softly, a noticeable shade of light pink across her face with eyes full of a need that stole Silva's breath away, "Tonight. I want you, and I want to make you feel good."

Silva felt a burst of exhilaration invade her body, her nerves lightened up with renewed enthusiasm. The feeling only increased when Faith delicately held one of Silva's hands and brought it to her soft lips.

The kisses she pressed down onto the faded scarred tissue sent tingling signals throughout Silva's body, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as her cheeks darkened into a blush. Faith gauged Silva's reaction, her gaze anticipating her answer and yet pleading all the same, lips brushing against her sensitive hand.

Silva responded with a loving smile, using her spare hand to cup Faith's face, fingers caressing the skin like light kisses as she brought her own face closer.

"Si," Silva had acceded, connecting their lips, feeling the thrum of Faith's enthused hum. When breaking off the kiss, the former deputy stated, "Under one condition."

Faith visibly wet her lips, tilting her head into Silva's palm as she asked, barely above a whisper, "And what would that be?"

Silva smirked, and Faith waited with bated breath on Silva's response (but if she hadn't been so focused on Silva's answer, she'd notice beloved's grey eyes shined with a flicker of silver), bringing her chapped lips to ghost along Faith's ear, and purred, "I'll make you feel bliss first."

Faith broke into a grin, and wrapped her arms around her lover's neck as both of their desires heightened, lips caught in a dance before Silva took the lead.

While their tongues communed and tasted one another, Silva's hands wandered, brushing over Faith's dress and squeezing at certain areas to bring out those small noises she never gets to hear in any other moment.

She settled both her wandering hands at Faith's hip and culo respectively, giving a squeeze on both that elicited a surprised yelp from her amor, though a giggle soon followed after.

Silva retracted from the kiss as her hands reached the hem of Faith's dress, "Let's get this dress off, mi querida."

Faith only nodded as her hands joined Silva's to slip the dress off from over her head rather smoothly, freeing her perky breasts for only Silva's eyes to see. She pressed her hands onto the skin, how good and warm it felt under her touch. Her thumb grazed over a scar just under Faith's rib cage.

Her attention was deterred however by her amor's impatient fingers unbuttoning her shirt.

Silva followed suit, unbuttoning the rest of her dress shirt and shrugging it off. She reached for the strap of her bra behind her, but Faith ceased her struggle when she pressed her hands onto Silva's clothed breasts.

"Arms up, darling," Faith directed, and Silva saw the glimpse of the herald whose reputation commanded fear and respect from her foes. It sent an exhilarating shiver down the former deputy's body, feeling a twitch in her lower body as she followed her amor's orders.

Faith pulled the undergarment over her lover's head, tossing it away. Silva didn't bother to chide about the messiness, figuring it to be a issue she'll deal with tomorrow. In the mean time, she was too preoccupied with giving Faith's greedy hands access to feeling her swell chest up. She let Faith grope at her breasts, hands wandering all over her exposed upper half. Even in the darkness, Faith accurately pinpointed every faded scar there was on this portion of the Omar woman's body.

From her healed cuts and slashes, to the closed scarring from past bullet wounds, to her shoulders; the left harbored old burns, while the right was less clearer, though the texture of the skin was notably a shade lighter, if only slightly.

Silva hummed from the touches she received, massaging Faith's breasts in return. Faith gaped in pleasure, and Silva jumped at the opportunity to reconnect their lips, tongue inserted back in, this time to dominate.

Faith moaned into Silva's mouth, and the reverberation spurred Silva on. Her hands moved to behind Faith, she pulled the other woman's body against hers, their chests colliding. Faith's hands gripped at Silva's back, pushing herself against her lover to chase after the pleasure of grinding their breasts together.

Silva slowly lead Faith backwards to the bed, letting the foot of the bed buckle Faith's legs into sitting down.

Without hesitation, Faith spread her bare legs to give Silva a peek at the lacy white lingerie underwear, embroidered with a familiar pattern, that she had adorned for this occasion. Silva got the impression that her amor had been planning this for some time.

Silva wouldn't disappoint.

Though that pattern did look familiar-

Flowers. Of course, Silva noted in mild amusement.

Faith closed her legs together and dragged her underwear down, shimmying the flower-patterned lingerie down to her ankles, kicking them off to the floor. She opened her legs once more, displaying her nude, bare self for Silva's eyes to feast upon. The sight made Silva's crotch felt uncomfortably restrictive, but she restrained herself from taking her pants off and making love to Faith there and then.

Silva wanted to draw this out; she wanted Faith to feel the greatest heights of this high until she was fully satiated, as well as for herself too.

Caressing her amor's face, Silva's eyes lingered down to Faith's wet folds awaiting her, the light brown bundle of curling hairs layered at the top, and asked, "May I?"

Faith gave an eager and affirming nod, and Silva descended down to her knees until she was face to face with the younger woman's lower lips. Putting her amor's legs over her shoulders, Silva circled two fingers around her labia to stimulate more wetness and gather it onto her fingers, while her other hand's thumb gently brushed against her clit.

She heard Faith's breath hitch above, which made Silva temporarily halt, her eyes meeting green to wordlessly check on her pareja. Faith met her lover's gaze and returned an assuring nod. Silva took a breath and continued to tease her amor's slick pussy and clit, feeling a tug of pride within herself when she heard a soft airy sigh come from above.

Satisfied with the slickness, she inserted one finger inside, earning her a gasp and small moan from Faith. She massaged her index inside the warm insides before inserting a second finger to join the first, curling and gently twisting both as she proceeded to press a bit firmly on Faith's clit with her thumb.

Spurred on by the sounds of Faith's heavier breathing and soft moans, Silva gave a trail of kisses along both of her thighs, perhaps lightly sucking at the flesh to leave a mark or two where no one but both of them would see.

She carefully twisted her two slick-covered closed fingers to face her and opened them up in a V-shape, spreading her amor's vagina.

Silva leaned closer, breathing in her scent. The pungent tangy musk tinted with a hint of earthy sweetness to it. A floral scent really; not like the acrid sweetness of the Bliss though. That had long since been washed away.

Without wasting another moment, she pressed her tongue flat against Faith's vulva, licking it in a glide upwards until she reaches her clit.

Faith tasted like honey, with a hint of sourness that reminded Silva of yogurt. It was something surprising to discover; how different the taste was. She'd expected a metallic taste and bitterness not unlike coffee when she first went down on Faith, as she had remembered Irene's being, and the few women she had brief relations with holding a similar taste, but had been pleasantly unprepared for the flavor.

She continued to lap up the slickness, proceeding to explore with wide licks that swished around the folds of her amor's vulva, enjoying the sweet little noises she drew out and the feeling of Faith's legs shaking over her shoulders.

Silva hadn't expected Faith to cross her legs to pull her mouth closer, but the Omar woman held no complaints. She focused on flexing her tongue deeper inside, licking every nook and cranny.

Silva felt Faith's hand furl into her dark hair to keep the former deputy where she was, grinding herself against her lover's tongue. Silva hummed her appreciation into her amor's pussy, the vibrating sensation provoking a whimper out of Faith.

Feeling her lover's tongue retracting, Faith almost expressed her dissatisfaction with the lack of contact until Silva's lips enveloped around her swelling clit, lightly sucking as her tongue gently circled around it.

Faith choked out a cry as she felt Silva's two fingers re-enter to massage at her sensitive flesh. Lips parted, her moans didn't escape quietly, though it didn't discourage Silva from her relentless efforts to bring about Faith's high.

Silva heard Faith murmur out words incoherently yet consistently (though that may be due to the thighs squeezed around her head canceling out most noises), though was unable to inquire about it as she felt Faith's legs tense around her.

She had enough time to glance her eyes up to see Faith slightly arch her back before she felt the inner walls of her vagina constrict and spasm.

Silva had half-a-mind to have her mouth open when fluid squirted at her face. She lapped up the sweet sticky fluids as Faith rode her high out.

Leaving soft rewarding kisses around her amor's sensitive flesh and thighs, Silva began crawling up to trail her kisses along Faith's waist and stomach. She peppered her breasts, collarbone and neck with special attention, sucking on the skin to leave little marks.

She kissed along her jaw, face and settled on her lips. Face to face, Silva admired the flushed yet blissful expression that resided on her amor.

Breathing returning to a regular intake, Faith opened her green eyes to gaze into Silva's adoring ones.

"You look so beautiful right now amor," Silva complimented, lightly tucking a loose hair behind Faith's ear.

The Seed woman licked her lips, the smile on her face joined by a light blush from the praise. And though Silva meant what she said, she still had the need to confirm.

"Was that good for you, mi querida?" Silva asked softly, searching for any hint of potential discomfort from the young woman below her. Faith blinked at Silva, maybe touched by the concern, maybe in bafflement at the question. Though she proceeded to bring her head up to rest against Silva's own.

"It was wonderful. You ate me out so well my sweetheart," Faith assured with a pleased sigh. She proceeded to bring her lips to the shell of Silva's ear and whisper, "Now why don't you take those pants off? I can't be the only one naked here."

Silva gave an affirmative nod and obliged to Faith's request. Scooting to the side of bed, she pulled down her loose night pants, kicking them off at her ankles. She went to remove her boxers next, but Faith slipped up behind with wandering and electrifying hands that danced across her front.

Faith peppered light kisses along her neck, and softer ones to her old burn scars, which Silva appreciated. One stray hand palmed over the bulge throbbing against her boxers, massaging the member, earning a shameless moan from Silva.

"You're so good to me, Silva. Always accommodating. Putting my needs before yours," Faith revered warmly, massaging the stretching bulge that began to tent up at her boxers, eliciting a low groan from Silva, while Faith stated, "You're so full of love. And I'm happy to be someone you share it with. Which is why I want to make tonight special for you. To give my own love back to you, in the most intimate act together."

Silva bit at her bottom lip as she felt herself get harder at Faith's words, the kind and adoring words flustering the woman. She felt Faith reach into her boxers to pull out her erect cock. Freed from its confines, Silva didn't try to suppress the moan that rose in her throat when her amor curled one hand at the base and began to pump.

Precum leaked from the tip, and Faith brushed a thumb over it, spreading the slickness around the head. She reached down to gently massage at her scrotum to further tease her lover, receiving a choked yelp that morphed pleased groan. Satisfied with her work, Faith tugged at the boxers, with Silva pulling it down the rest of the way.

"Now for what I promised," Faith purred sultry, intertwining her hand with Silva, leading the compliant woman to crawl further onto the queen bed with her.

With both now bare and their hearts beating with a thrill, Faith took initiative, placing a halting hand onto Silva's chest to halt her approach and lightly push her down backwards.

"Can you sit for me?" Faith requested, flashing sweet honest pearls at her, and Silva nodded affirmatively as she followed suit, sitting down with her legs splayed out, her cock proudly pointed up as Silva's eyes traced ever bit of Faith's body.

She swallowed on nothing, wishing she could count the stars to mark a number down of how much she had been so unbelievably lucky to have not only meeting Faith, but get to be with her. And to keep her and Azriel safe, a small relieved voice spoke up, though it didn't last, You never were able to do that with anyone else.

Silva almost frowned at the thought, and briefly closed her eyes. What happened wasn't my fault. I did all I could in those moments, she reminded herself, defending against the guilt, just as Faith coached her.

She opened her eyes when she felt Faith's hands grasp onto her shoulders, her legs at both sides of her hips. Her wet entrance hovering above Silva's leaking head, though Faith paused as she cupped Silva's face into her hands, the next words she spoke sending a spike of pleasure through her veins, "I want you inside me."

Heart fluttering at the proclamation, Silva wanted nothing more than to obey, to be inside her amada and feel how she clenched around her, to murmur little praises into her skin as she just enjoyed having her amor in her arms. However, through the haze of love and lust, she had a realization, "I don't have condoms. I don't think there are any down here."

"Nor birth control," Faith informed her, green eyes gazing down, and Silva wanted to kick herself for not noticing when she did stock checks, "I checked the infirmary; it just wasn't included amongst the stock."

Silva could take a guess why. The infirmary had been an additional room inserted by Kamski himself without her permission. Though she was grateful now for his foresight, she felt an annoyance towards Kamski's paranoia overstocking the infirmary with supplies for illness, injury, surgery and even birth delivery, but was flippant about her chances of finding a new partner that he was he convinced her contraceptives wouldn't be necessary. By Jannah, why did I listen to him?

She brought a hand over one of Faith's own which still had her face cupped, thumb brushing at the knuckles. While Silva certainly wasn't against the idea of unprotected sex, especially if Faith gave her consent, under normal circumstances there would be a world with safety nets to fall back on if they decided to risk it.

However, they were stuck in a bunker, while luckily stocked for more than three people with food, medicine and other resources, it was without the contraceptives to avoid the high-risk results of the act.

She would love nothing more than to make love to Faith, to be inside her, to join her on the brink of their own bliss and just release. However, she knew of Faith's reservations, not to the act itself, but the potential consequences of said act.

Instead, she suggested, "If you really want to do this, I can try the pulling out, which does comes with risk. But we don't have to, we can do something else..."

Silva quieted down when Faith pressed a finger to her lips, shushing wordlessly. Faith smacked her lips together as she gazed at Silva with sincere affection.

"I appreciate that you're thinking of me, but there's no need to fret, my lotus flower," Faith said with a fond smile, running a hand through Silva's long dark hair, her green eyes full of a devotion Silva's doesn't believe she's seen on her before, not even with Joseph, not this intense and self-assured.

"But I made my mind up about this weeks ago," Faith informed her lover, an adoring smile blessing her face, "I want to feel you. And more importantly, I want you to feel good. I know you personally dislike the condoms. Not only that, but I know you'd rather not pull out. And yet you do those... all for me. And I'm flattered. Which is why tonight, I wanted to do this for you. No contraceptives... even if they ideally should have been optional... and no pulling out either. And whatever comes after this... I'm okay with it."

Silva blinked, not expecting this from Faith. Although she wanted nothing more to accept her words at face value, she still had to make sure, "What about what you told me? I thought you didn't want to risk-"

"I know what I had said. It was something I took time to think about too," Faith acknowledged, but her tone changed to something more impassioned, "But... my time spent with you and Azriel has made me reconsider. I know you. I trust you. Of all the people I was lucky to fall for, I'm glad it's with you. Because you won't abandon me. You'll be with me, through it all."

Faith's hands glided down to behind Silva's head and neck, bringing her beloved's face closer to her chest, adjusting Silva so her ear was to the skin.

"You hear that?" Faith asked above, her heartbeat thumping in a swift measured pace, and Silva only nodded, still a little lost until her amor explained, "That's my excitement at the thought of us giving in for tonight. Of us quivering and trembling in ecstasy, on the toe-curling edge until I milk you dry. That's what I want, but most importantly, I know that's what you want to do."

Silva felt herself burning up; from her head being in Faith's bosom? The lewd description she'd never expect Faith to use (Had she rubbed off on her somehow? The Drubmans and Sharky? Or had she always had this side of her? came the discord of thoughts) until this occasion? Or the admission that she not only knew of Silva's concealed desires, but wishes for her to act on them too?? Perhaps it was a combination, but Silva wasn't entirely sure.

Silva lifted her face to look into Faith's unabashed green eyes, finding no hint of doubt in those beautiful orbs.

"I want this. You want this. And we won't be unprepared," Faith assured, nuzzling her head into the nook of Silva's neck, hands residing at her back, "We have an abundance of supplies with everything needed for a full-term pregnancy, and the infirmary is ridiculously prepared with instructions and instruments ready for when the day comes. I know this is selfish... but I want to make something beautiful with you. To carry the culmination of our love within me. No more holding yourself back... take a leap, love. Put yourself first for once."

Silva chewed at her bottom lip as she felt her cock grow stiffer at the idea of succumbing to her base desires, and to join Faith through a union of their raw bodies, rutting into the warmth of Faith's inner walls until she released herself into her amada's womb, until she was sure Faith was pregnant.

Faith got her attention with a small kiss on the lips, green eyes staring straight into Silva's souls as she said her next words with utmost seriousness.

"I know how I sound, saying all these things to you, but here and now, I want you to understand that ultimately... it's your call, my lotus flower. If you don't want to risk it, I'll respect your decision. You're not obligated to do this, not even for me. I can do something else to have you reach your own high if you'd prefer," Faith offered, one hand reaching down to Silva's hard cock, stroking at the shaft, earning a pleased trill, "If you want to proceed, you already know I'm all for it. If you don't, I'll be happy with whatever decision you make. It's up to you."

Silva was grateful that Faith was willing to wait for her consent. She took the opportunity to think about it. She found Faith's points to be valid; they had an infirmary with information and instruments at the ready, the bunker was well-supplied, Silva has the experience to take care of Faith and their not-yet conceived child, she knows Azriel would be thrilled for a sibling and she had Faith's approval. Hell, she wanted to do it.

I want to do it, Silva realized, an anxious energy buzzing within her, I want to have a child with her.

Silva met Faith's gaze once more. Her bright grey eyes scanned Faith's green, and her hands moved up to rest on her amor's waist as she said, "I want to do it."

Faith's eyes blew open, delight filling her face, "Really? You mean it?"

Silva gave Faith a smirk that sent a shiver of exhilaration up the other woman's spine, "Si. Now mi amor, how do you like the sound of me cumming into you tonight?"

Faith's only response was a resounding, "Yes."

With a gentle tap from Silva, Faith proceeded to lower herself until her entrance met Silva's tip, grinding their sex together, the sensation causing Silva to gasp agape while Faith husked out a wanton groan.

Silva couldn't deny her own heart's elation at the feeling of Faith's slickness making contact with her own precum, mixing and leaking down her shaft.

Faith sunk until she enveloped the head of Silva's cock. The former deputy groaned at the sensation of Faith adjusting to her, her walls stretching and clenching around her. Faith masked her own moan as a pleased hum, hand bringing Silva's head to her collarbone.

Silva planted more kisses and small bites to decorate her skin as she delicately maneuvered Faith past her cock's head and down the shaft. Her amada rocked tenderly, rasping out breathy, needy moans as Silva's cock stretched her pussy.

Both women's breath hitched when Faith reached the base of Silva's cock, the latter once again adjusting to the former. For Faith, it felt warmer, and she felt fuller with Silva inside compared to when she wore the condom. Silva could feel her amor's slickness and heat, how she pulsed within her, how wonderful it felt to have Faith's walls clenched around Silva. It felt right.

Both held each other close, until Silva's knees rose up until they were behind Faith's back. She grabbed hold of her amor's legs, gaze bor into her green orbs, a determined look not unlike what Faith saw during the Reaping gracing Silva's features.

"Are you ready?" Silva asked one last time, giving Faith the chance to back out. Faith gave a thrilled, "Yes", her green eyes begging for more. Silva proceeded to ask, "You remember what word to use if things get too much for you?"

Faith nodded once more, recounting, "Tulip."

Silva gave a confirming nod, "That's right. Buena chica. Now stretch out your legs and lay back for me, mi amor."

Faith did as instructed, stretching her legs out and, with Silva's guidance, she locked them around Silva's waist. Faith proceeded to lean back onto the support of Silva's thighs.

Silva hooked one hand under Faith's culo, giving it a teasing squeeze as she leaned forward to bring her other arm around Faith's back. The former herald hooked one hand at the nape of Silva's neck while her other gave herself some support from behind, grasping onto Silva's leg to anchor herself.

She gave Silva an affirming nod to go ahead, and Silva tested the waters with a small thrust with a rock of her hips. Faith gasped out a lewd noise, and with another thrust, she let out a pleased hum at the contact, and as Silva thrust again and again at a steady pace, Faith began to pant out long, wanton moans while Silva breathed out grunts and husked out her own impassioned moans.

Silva continued to thrust into Faith as her amada continued meeting her thrusts with enthusiastic rocks, the wet sound of skin slapping against each other all that filled the room.

"You feel so good," Silva murmured in a drawl, and as she rocked her hips up into Faith's slick velvet walls, she let out a surprising growl, "Mierda, you're coño's perfect for me, Faith. I need to fill you up... I need to get you pregnant."

Faith let out an enthused titter, her gut recoiling with warmth like the hammer of a gun, and she teased, "Yeah? Is that what you're going to do, my lotus flower? Rut into my bare, unprotected pussy raw until you cum? Spill all your seed into my empty womb until I'm all nice and full? That's fucking hot. You're so sexy whenever you speak your mind. Gets me really wet."

Faith gasped as she felt Silva's thrusts quicken in pace, causing her body to rock from the jerky movement. Though Faith was not displeased by the change as her content moans and her sweet gaping features indicated.

Images flashed within Silva's mind while her sharp eyes lingered on Faith; the flat of her stomach swollen with life for Silva to cherish both with the hold of one hand. Her bouncing breasts full of milk, perhaps more swell and more sensitive than before. Silva was also fascinated by what Faith's stretch marks would look like, during and after the pregnancy, the beautiful markings long-lasting evidence of their joyous union. She remembered only briefly being able to admire Irene's post-birth marks a few days after Persephone was born.

Silva could feel herself reaching her end, she knew in the way her breathing grew strained, and her cock became stiffer and hotter. It was a familiar sensation, but here it was special, as nothing was stopping her from filling Faith up fully now.

"Faith, look at me, querida," Silva drew Faith's green eyes to retain direct contact with her grey, "That's good, mi amor. I'm glad to see your beautiful face. This is a moment in our bond I want to last. I'm close. I'm so close now. I'm going to cum inside you. And I'm going to get you pregnant. I want to hear you tell me you want it. I need to hear it."

So close to coming undone, Faith refrained from breaking their shared contact as she husked out, "I want this. I want to feel you cum inside me. I want to be full with your seed. I want to be pregnant with your child. I want all of you, Silva."

Silva felt herself tighten and her resolve to hold on break. With little strength, she wrapped her arms around Faith as her amada tightened her legs around Silva's waist, both pulled their sweaty bodies close to each other. Both clung to one another as the only lifeline, as Silva gave one last rock of her hips and their sexes spasm.

Faith's walls constricted and clamped around her cock in a creamy coat and milk up all that she unloaded inside. Faith wailed out a moan while Silva shouted in ecstasy. She gave a sparse few weaker thrusts, and felt Faith's walls throb followed by her amor cumming once more.

Both refrained from separating, catching their breaths within each other's arms, fingers playing with hair, breasts pressed against each other from each heave of their chests, basking in each other's mind-buzzing afterglow.

The embrace lasted until Silva lightly pressed a kiss on Faith's soft lips before she removed herself out of Faith, her member deflating and spent for the night. She laid Faith down on the blanket of the bed, who was recovering from the intense pleasure she experienced twice. With limbs still interlocked, she laid beside Faith's prone form.

"Thank you," Silva told Faith, the latter humming in question, dreariness weighing on her half-lidded eyes, so Silva elaborated, "For this. For letting me hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and... make love. You made me feel so good. Tonight was just perfect."

Faith giggled, green eyes gazing into Silva's grey with adoration, "Of course, honey. You did amazingly too. I noticed you had a lot more enthused determination. Not that you hadn't before but... there was a more primal feel. I liked it."

Silva felt her face heat up from Faith's appraisal, feeling her cock twitch. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her amor; Faith bit at her bottom lip as she commented, "And with our new goal, we'll be doing this again for the next few nights, I'd hope."

Silva felt an excitement burn at the thought of doing this again, though it reminded her of some things she should do to help.

"I'll need to go get a new blanket from the linen cupboard since..." Silva trailed off as she looked at the damp spot, "...yeah. But in the meantime, we should have your pelvis raised a little higher to increase the chances of conception."

Silva couldn't recall where she gained that information from; whether it had been something Kamski had somehow brought up in conversation for whatever reason or something she had learned while reading for any information from the old medical textbooks they could scavenge to help Irene during her pregnancy with her firstborn.

Regardless, Silva grasped a pillow and placed it underneath Faith's lower back, to raise her hips slightly above. Satisfied, Silva asked, "While I'm out, is there anything you need? Snacks? Water? A cloth to clean up?"

Faith shook her head, but made a small grunt as she tried to clear her coarse throat, "Water, please."

Silva gave a smile, caressing her amada's face before getting off the bed, "I'll be back in a jiff, mi amor."

Silva peeked out of the room, searching for any signs of the familiar orange-streak across the dark hair of her hija, hoping she was still asleep in her bed and not awoken by the noise, even if their rooms were fairly dense.

Spotting no signs of her fellow night owl, Silva exited the room, and made her way to the linen cupboard for the new blanket, and then dashed to the kitchen to get Faith's water.

With the glass filled and blanket over her shoulder, she made haste back to the master bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way back to Faith back on the bed. She placed the blanket down by the foot of the bed while taking the chance to admire her nude form. Though she noticed how Faith's hand was placed below her stomach, lost in thought.

Silva got onto the bed with a creak, breaking her amor's attention train of though and bringing her attention back to her.

Offering a smile, Silva didn't immediately inquire, instead tapping the glass of water, which earned her a soft gaze of appreciation.

She helped Faith lean up from the bed, and passed the glass of water to her. Once her amor's throat was satisfied, Silva had Faith temporarily hop off the bed so she could remove the ruined blanket (which she placed by the door for tomorrow) and laid down the newer, softer blanket.

Once the bed was ready, both Silva and Faith crawled back onto the bed, huddling close. Neither put back on their nightwear.

Silva brushed her fingers through Faith's light brown hair with enthusiasm and adoration in her heart. Faith snuggled into the crook of her neck, one finger tracing aimlessly at Silva's back.

"Are you alright, amor?" Silva asked softly, concern rearing its head once more, though she had a fraction of an idea of what Faith would be thinking about.

Faith glanced her green eyes up at her, briefly holding contact before she nodded.

"Just thinking?" Silva pried gently, observing how her face made those little quirks, subtle twitches, halting furrows and the way her lips open partially before closing again.

Faith responded with a small and affirming hum. The vibration's contact against her skin, although short, eased her hammering heart.

"Want to talk about it?" She finally asked, swallowing any remaining nerves as she discerned Faith's expression towards the question. Does she have any regrets? came the question she was worried for the answer of.

Faith hadn't replied immediately, stewing in the silence as she gathered her words, and said, "I'm just... coming to terms with this. Wondering... maybe a little worried. I've made quite the spontaneous decision, no different than what I've done before."

From the top of her head, Silva could only recall three that she could be referring to; leaving home with Tracey, joining Eden's Gate and helping Silva and Azriel in their goals.

"Are you having... regrets?" Silva asked hesitantly, but knew it was important.

She was a little surprised when Faith snorted incredulously at it.

"No... not that at all. It's a choice I'm not backing down from," she answered fully looking up to her, bringing one hand to cup the side of Silva's face with tender affection, slowly nuzzling their foreheads together, "I'm just a little nervous is all. This is a new and rather big step I would never have considered in my life before meeting you and Azriel. But it is something I want to experience, as long as you're with me."

Relief flooded Silva's mind, washing away any lingering presence of the ugly guilt that tried to form.

"Besides, I liked tonight as much as you did. And I loved how you were too," Faith said as she "walked" two fingers all the way up Silva's chest to her lips, seductively brushing both over her lover's bottom lip as she leaned forward with a whisper, "And I'd hope to see more of that side of you last a few rounds in the night to come."

Silva joined her lips with her amor's, an unbridled smile curving up once again. I've been doing that a lot more recently, she noted, in spite of the sorrow she still feels for the loss of the world above.

Though that's not something she'd focus on as of now. She had better priorities she needed to attend to.

Disconnecting their lips, Silva replied, "I'll let you hold me to those words. In the meantime... want to just snuggle until sleep takes us?"

"Yeah," Faith snickered, eyes drooping lower as she cuddled closer into Silva, "I won't refuse such an offer like that."

Silva wrapped her arms further around Faith, as she just cherished this moment of holding onto her amada diente de león.

Faith dozed off first, and though Silva was not far behind her, within the dark of their room, she whispered into Faith's hair, "We're going to be okay. I promise, mi amor."

With nothing else to say until tomorrow, she let out a content sigh as she dragged the soft blanket over their exposed bodies, and sunk into Faith's slumbering embrace. Finally finding a quiet to look forward to.

[A/n] Finally it's over. I can move on to the tag stuff I've missed.

[Skit #1: Faith: "How might Azriel take the news of a possible new sibling?" Silva: "I wouldn't worry about it. She'd probably be more thrilled at finally being taller than someone for once."]

[Skit #2: Kamski: "Alright I've installed a functioning infirmary into your doomsday bunker in the scenario we'd have to bunk together during a disaster." Silva: "...Not thrilled but ok." Kamski: "It's prepared for injuries, illnesses, surgeries and any pregnancies in the unlikely case we have others bunk with us." Silva: "That sounds good and all, but what about contraceptives?" Kamski: "Don't be ridiculous Silva... no one's stupid enough to fuck in a bunker during a disaster and neither of us are getting lucky enought to change our single status any time soon." Silva: "Hurtful but sounds legit." Years later... Silva: "Once I die, Kamski when I get my hands on you, you motherfu-"]

[wof-reworked]

I’ve been thinking, and I think I’m going to change the way I talk about my headcanons and wof writing to something like a rewrite/reworking. I love wof but it’s become really apparent that the way I engage with it is really more as a world to expand and work in vs a book series I’m analyzing as-is. I think it’ll give me the freedom to actually post the stuff I’m thinking and working on bc I don’t have to keep chaining myself to making it work with all the confusing and contradictory canon tidbits that Tui barely remembers she established. Thoughts?

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce snippet

Whatever they were doing, they’d been out there all night- warrior’s sworn to her family, recklessly pulled from one nation to another- they were there on the ground, absolutely motionless. Had held the same positions for so long she could see dew, gathering across the folding shape of a battalions worth of wings. Weakness, it was pure weakness to wish Cassian with her, but Nesta felt it. Longed to turn from this newest disaster, whatever it was, see his eyes bright despite everything. There had never been room for weakness in her life. Nesta dropped her skirt, velvet settling audible on the grass, stopped before the only member of this party whose name she knew. She’d learn them all- she would, hated that she had not already. “Captain.” He did not look up. Move, those great verdigris wings drawn down so tight Nesta would have expected entrapment were they anywhere else. “It has been my honor,” Koram announced, fist over his heart white-knuckled, “To serve your house, my lady.” “It has been our honor to call you Archeron,” Nesta’s mouth answered, numb. Ritual and rote. When no reply came, she continued. “We do not penalize contracts broken. Not for this. If you wish to leave and join the rallying of the army in the mountains. To”- Clear, distinct, Kali, a full arms length of constant presence away, sucked in a breath. From above, it was easy to see the muscle, jumping on Koram’s jaw. “We would die here, Lady Archeron. With some honor left.” It took too long, seconds, to understand it was a plea. A genuine question of mercy. Nesta shook her head. “No one is dying. No one else. You never have to go back to the Night Court’s armies, as far as I’m concerned.” No wind, no air, no answers, until Kali risked that closer step, not even the beads of her braids chiming together. “Lady Archeron, if I may?” Her head hurt. Her heart, her throat, her damned leg- it hurt to stand here and it infuriated her not to know what the hell was happening. Nesta seized her dragging dress again. “Yes, this way.” It was no comfort, to breathe in rosy mist, the transplanted green scent of a hundred continental plants in a garden her grandmother had never gotten to see. “What are they doing?” Surprise looked cataclysmic on the older woman’s face, starker for the rippling tattoos along her hairline. “Waiting to die.” The books had left out too much. “Why?” Kali blinked, and after a moment, settled into a posture Nesta hatefully could not fail to recognize as familiar, three seconds of motion away from Cassian’s formal salute. “They lost two of their charges, my lady. Two girls.”

[the-greek-mythos-project]

The Greek Mythos Project: What We Accept Within Submissions

Hello everyone, it is once again Camila here and I am writing this post because I decided I should probably clarify things sooner than later. I know I and quite a few other lovely people can struggle with open barriers within things, especially in such a large and "imposing" project, so I decided to write down the general specifics of things to lessen everyone's anxiety. This can and will definitely be improved if we are given more information/questions/asked for clarification so feel free to check every once in a while or reach out if you don't see a specific question you have answered. This is once again here to promote better communication within things and break down this large project to more manageable things. So, let's get into it!

[Note: This post will go from the broader, more unspecific, topics to the smaller, more specific ones so feel free to scroll down or up as you please :)]

The Biggest Thing First! One Singular POV. This is something that I, Camila, want for the project and therefore, it will be the most enforced thing within here. Don't worry, though! We will be releasing a Second Work alongside this main project consisting of things that didn't quite fit into the original project, such as works that aren't exactly (or at all) one POV but still want to be recognized or OC pieces that are like reincarnations of various gods/mortals/characters which I'll get into later. So you work has a place with us, I promise you <3.

Anyway, back to the One Singular POV thing. It genuinely does not matter whether the piece is First Person, Second Person, Third Person, or something within those parameters as long as the setting, scene, thoughts, and work are being described in that one character's thoughts/experiences. A great example of this in Third Person is in the Heroes of Olympus by Rick Riordan, a popular YA Book Series centering around Greek Mythology in a Modern Setting told by their Demigod Children, where the narrative is in Third Person POV but it only ever follows whoever's POV it's in. Such as we do see the character's actual name and "he/she/they" instead of "I" but we're not privy to anything other than what the character is experiencing.

That is what I am asking for, and I am asking for this mostly for myself!) As we all may know by now, this project was created because I--Camila--took one look at my goal to rewrite the entirety of Greek Mythology in my search to learn more about the Greek Myths, was like "yeah... no," and then proceeded to make this public with the intent to bring out those niche writers, gain a community, make friends, and generally learn more about the various communities and ideas surrounding such a vast and deep thing such as Greek Mythology (remember, people not only know this across the globe, but across centuries. It's not just our ideas and the original texts, it's the Roman Empire's thoughts, the Rise of Christianity, all of our forefathers, and even those who we have read dissecting these things and creating academic papers or other works. It's just so interesting how much character and change and even how much influence various things have had on our modern perceptions). But, this is also a Project, this is also mine, and so I am very politely asking for it to be One POV of a Greek Mythological Character--However Niche They May Be--Only.

Thank you so much for understanding and, again, I will be hosting a Secondary Fic for all the things that don't quite fit under this Main Project but may still want to have the recognition/community that this comes with <3.

Note!! Because this post ended up being a little long and would be hard to properly organize going further, the rest of it will be comprised in reblogs <33

[red-dyed-sarumane]

one thing about me is i have very serious somewhat arbitrary opinions for things of and relating to aru sekai series & u will be hearing them

[musical-chick-13]

"Truly GOOD works don't have thriving fandoms because people aren't interested in fixing them, so what do they have to write fics/make art about."

Idk about you, but I don't write fic for properties I don't genuinely enjoy and think are, on some level, actually good.

[helenofblackthorns]

I may be getting new bookshelves (they were my dead grandfather's)