#heroine and main wolf still need names

[princess-ibri]

Goncharov got me thinking about the time my brother called me at 8 am to tell me about how he'd dreamed that he was giving a tour of Disney Princess art I'd done, and at one point a guest stopped in front of a statue of a young Inuit girl hugging a wolf, and asked, "oh what's that one?"

To which my brother instantly replied "Oh that's just Time Wolf"

"Time Wolf?"

"Yeah you know, Time Wolf. Came out about 2014? About those two rival families in Alaska fighting about oil drilling using their time traveling sled dogs? I thought the idea was good but the execution could have been better. I liked the end fight on the giant glacier though"

So anyway here’s a poster for Time Wolf xD

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Seokjin

After a successful day of scheming, Seokjin calls his favorite plaything to join him and Hoseok for a little fun. 

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 7.2k

🗡️ mafia au, dishonest characters, established relationship, bdsm, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: top Seokjin with mention of bottom Hoseok; top Hoseok & bottom Seokjin; scheming; mention of the use of heroin; use of the word "whore" not meant derogatorily, but not always kindly; allusion to puppy play; talk of manufacturing and selling drugs with the purpose of getting people addicted; shower play; enema play; light humiliation; ass eating & fingering; Seokjin is...morally grey at best.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! listen: Seokjin is not the nicest person, so please take the way he speaks with a grain of salt. it is hard to put everyone's full intentions into the POV scenes because i still need there to be surprises later on!!! but i feel like this is going to really help to solidify the way many of you feel about this character hehehe. i hope you enjoy!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - with minor unbeta'd edits done since.

🗡️ posted march 2024 - originally jan. 2023 | read on ao3

"She's not going to go for it," Hoseok teases as he reaches around Seokjin's broad shoulders from behind and straightens out his burgundy satin tie. 

Seokjin's tie matches a fitted burgundy Armani suit, which he wears with a cream undershirt. His hair is pushed off his forehead, bringing together the look.

He has a meeting at House of Cards with some investors who are looking to build near the Shin territory just outside Busan, in a smaller port city, and Seokjin wants to make sure those men are on Yoongi's side if push should come to shove. 

But first, he plans to make a stop by the mansion to discuss something with Yoongi's little pet. 

"She doesn't have to go for it," Seokjin responds, watching Hoseok's reflection with adoration swelling behind his lungs. Recently, Hoseok has been letting his hair grow out, and he looks devastating with dark brown waves falling past his eyes and longer bits tucked behind his ears.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, done with his task and letting his arms hang over Seokjin's shoulders. Seokjin spins on the balls of his socked feet and wraps his arms around Hoseok's waist, pulling him close. 

"I am merely planting a seed. I want the actual idea to be hers when the time comes."

Hoseok grins. "Elaborate."

"Well," Seokjin says, "for starters, the plan is terrible. Shipping her off to Busan for a week—or whatever the span of a vacation may be—is hardly enough time to turn her into an informant. She is smart enough to know that much. But I will pose it to her that way, insisting Yoongi cannot know, which will force her to stew on it. I know she wants revenge for the recent attack on Jimin at Paradise, and if Shin sends any more men to try to shake us up, it will only fuel her fire."

"And you want her to do this, because...?"

Seokjin chuckles. "Because, my love, Ryujin has always responded best to the friendships and authority of women. As sweet and empathetic as Hyunjin is, she has not gotten as close to him as we hoped. Yoongi's wolf cub, on the other hand, is the perfect bait. Not to mention, she comes from the honey bee ring, which Ryujin will sympathize with."

"And if Ryujin recognizes her from Serendipity?"

Seokjin pouts, sticking his lip out and down-turning his eyes. "Seokie, baby, you pretend I haven't thought of absolutely everything, and it wounds me."

With a roll of his pretty eyes and a soft giggle, Hoseok says, "Then humor me, love."

Seokjin rubs the tip of his nose against Hoseok's, then places a soft kiss, making Hoseok smile widely. "All we have to do is spread a rumor that Yoongi has harmed or upset her in some way. Nothing too damaging to his reputation, just a simple whisper. Ryujin may be hesitant, but, given her feelings about Yoongi, I think she will fall for it."

Hoseok leans in and mimics Seokjin's motion, rubbing their noses together, making Seokjin's heart pound just a little bit harder. "And if Ryujin doesn't believe the rumors? We don't think Yoongi was abusive to her at any point?"

"Not abusive..." Seokjin drifts off, squinting slightly while he chooses his words. "But when his parents died, he went off the deep end with drugs. All the voices have to whisper is the word heroin, and her ears will perk up."

Hoseok purses his lips, thinking over what Seokjin says but looking unconvinced.

"And anyway, she's competitive," Seokjin continues, gently kissing the tip of Hoseok's nose, "even if she doesn't buy the rumor," Seokjin kisses the apple of Hoseok's cheek, "Ryujin might still take her in, thinking she can convert her to actually become part of her family."

"Or, she might kill her," Hoseok responds with a pointed gaze.

Seokjin places a kiss on Hoseok's other cheek as he shrugs. "Sometimes, the cat must wet its feet, no matter its dislike of water, in order to eat fish."

A soft, pretty chuckle comes from Hoseok, who presses his lips against Seokjin's and then mutters, "Idioms to describe a human life, Jinnie bear? Tsk tsk."

Seokjin hums, says, "Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good," and licks over Hoseok's lips until his partner parts them, pulling him into an eager but soft kiss. 

Time comes to a halt in Hoseok's arms, and Seokjin holds him tight, kissing slow and deep, savoring each taste, touch, and sound. There is nothing in the world quite like being in his lover's arms. Even the joy of watching the light die in his enemy's eyes pales in comparison. Seokjin thinks that he would do absolutely anything for Hoseok.

"Join me?" Seokjin asks. "She may be more comfortable with you around; you seem to have made a better impression on her, anyway."

"Fine," Hoseok mutters. "But I do not condone a plan that may get her killed, just so we're clear." Seokjin playfully rolls his eyes, and Hoseok smacks him on the shoulder as he continues, "I do like the idea of her running off to Busan for a while. For her sake and for Yoongi's."

"Oh?" Seokjin asks with a curious cock of the head, studying the microexpressions that tug gently at Hoseok's lips and eyes. To the untrained pupil, one would hardly notice these quirks, but Seokjin sees everything. Hoseok is nervous.

"Namjoon thinks he's becoming unhinged again," Hoseok finally says. "Slipping from reality. He's worried about another bender...so your plan to tell the voices about heroin use seems more grounded in reality than you realize."

"And you think taking her away from him won't just make him worse?" Seokjin teases, bending at the knees to smack a kiss on Hoseok's chin. 

Hoseok nibbles on his bottom lip, considering his words. "I think she needs to spend more time out of the house, and out from under Yoongi's shadow. He is still very controlling, despite her willingness to stay, and whenever she's not directly in his line of sight, he gets paranoid and on edge."

Seokjin mulls it over. "I have noticed he is on edge more when we are away from home for extended periods."

"He needs to break out of that loop. We can't have a mad king on our hands. Especially one who could raze the city to the ground."

"So, we need to somehow get him to grant her more freedom, in a way that does not cause Yoongi to completely lose his shit," Seokjin clarifies.

Hoseok nods. "I'll talk to Namjoon about it."

"Good plan."

And with that, Seokjin presses one more kiss against Hoseok's lips, then releases him, linking their hands together as they make their way out of their bedroom, through the hallway, and down the stairs. 

"And what is our excuse for visiting the mansion?" Hoseok asks as Seokjin sits on a charcoal grey chaise lounge beside the front door, reaching for a pair of black wingtip shoes. Seokjin slides his feet into both and begins tying the laces on one after the other. 

"I am either going to catch Yoongi before he leaves for the day and discuss what he would like me to say to the investors this afternoon," Seokjin sighs, "or I will message to let him know that I was trying to catch him before he left, yadda, yadda, yadda."

As Seokjin stands and rubs his hands over his slacks to straighten them out, Hoseok pulls his black shirt sleeve back to reveal an elegant black timepiece. "He should be home for another fifteen minutes, assuming Namjoon is making him punctual and not late."

With a pleased hum, Seokjin offers an elbow and says, "The weather is nice. Shall we walk?"

The weather truly is beautiful, and the two of them take their time, walking hand in hand along the gravel path. Seokjin does not like to be nostalgic, but it is hard not to smile as he remembers the years spend in this secluded stretch of trees with Hoseok, before there were mansions on the property, and they would steal away to be alone.

As timing will have it, Yoongi and Namjoon are just about to leave when Seokjin and Hoseok arrive. Seokjin can hear the two of them laughing on the other side of the bulletproof door and opts to use the large brass knocker rather than scan his retinas, and all that. 

The door swings open to Namjoon's tired but smiling face, and he walks outside, followed by Yoongi. They are in their standard black outfits, and Yoongi wears a cardigan rather than a blazer. Seokjin wonders what the two of them may be up to; Yoongi only mentioned meeting with some people concerning the mess Jeongguk recently made—which, Seokjin thinks, is a very flippant way to address a killing spree. 

"Gentlemen," Yoongi calls with his arms held wide, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Looking sharp, Jin," Namjoon mutters, making Seokjin grin. 

"My reason to visit today is twofold," Seokjin begins. "I was hoping the chef was in so I could have a plate of his fabulous eggs benedict.

"Of course," Yoongi responds with a smile. 

"And, I wanted to let you know that I will be meeting with the Choi brothers about their desire to open a casino near Busan."

Yoongi hums and then nods. "The chef is in, although, I am surprised you haven't perfected the recipe on your own."

With a shrug, Seokjin lies, "There is something about his hollandaise sauce that I cannot quite nail, but he refuses to give me the recipe." 

The truth is that the chef adds horseradish rather than dijon mustard, and just a dash of dried ginger, giving it more of a bite. Seokjin figured it out almost immediately, but he likes that the chef can whip it up on a whim, saving him the trouble of purchasing the ingredients and doing it himself.

"And the men?" Yoongi asks as he reaches into his front pants pocket, pulls out a metal cigarette case, and opens it, revealing a row of perfectly rolled joints. 

"Shall we offer to buy them, or shall we threaten them?" Seokjin simply asks.

With a smirk and a shrug, Yoongi pulls a joint to his lips, muttering, "Offer first, threaten second?"

Seokjin nods, watching as Namjoon pulls a lighter from his pocket and ignites Yoongi's joint, feeling glad that the two of them are finally able to be together once more. Yoongi needs a lapdog more than anything, and Namjoon is the perfect fit. 

"Excellent," Seokjin says with a small bow, "then I will be on my way to the kitchen. Shall I order an extra serving for the wolf cub?"

Yoongi takes a long drag of the joint, holds it in, and then slowly lets it out, creating a plume of skunky smoke between them. "I doubt she'll be up for another hour or so."

Perfect, Seokjin thinks; he actually was hoping to be fed. "Sounds good."

The front door hadn't been closed completely, so Seokjin enters the mansion easily, stepping aside to remove his shoes while Hoseok does the same. They close the door tight and make their way toward the kitchen. 

"You're so hot when you lie," Hoseok mutters, leaning in close enough for Seokjin to smell his cologne.

Seokjin twists and bends to place a kiss on Hoseok's lips, saying, "As are you, my love."

* * *

Despite having to wait more than thirty minutes on the balcony for Yoongi's darling to wake up, Seokjin considers their little meeting a success. He was certainly able to get into her head and could tell she was not ready to completely write off the idea of taking a trip by the time they made their exit, giving him just enough time to get into town on schedule for his meeting.

House of Cards is a raucous place even in the daytime when fewer men are around to throw away their money. The machines ding and play loud soundtracks, and televisions blare with various sport and fighting events. 

Seokjin enters through the main doors after leaving his sedan with valet, and he walks past all the drunks and coke heads with a straight face, making his way to his decoy office on the main floor to meet with some men whom Namjoon claims are going to be good for business if they can manage to keep him on their good side, and bad for business if they do not. 

Frankly, Seokjin could hardly give a fuck about what is good for business—Yoongi has inherited one of the oldest families in Korea, and by far the wealthiest. House of Cards brings in money simply by existing, and he hardly has to do any actual work. The boxing nights were Jeongguk's idea because he likes watching men fight to the death, and the wealth gained from those simply fuels the family's more expensive drug habits. 

The Shins in the east hardly have a stronghold on their own docks, and the Songs in the south are happy to form an alliance when the price is right, showing loyalty to no one but their own pockets.

Rumor has it the Song family turned down the Choi men because they do not wish to be in the business of entertaining tourists, and a casino might bring in the wrong crowds. Let the tourists flock to Jeju, they say, and Seokjin agrees. The Shins, on the other hand, are desperate for anything they can get their fingers on, and more or less offered them a stretch of land. 

All Seokjin has to do is offer the Choi brothers more money and an illusion of influence. Seems like the easiest thing in the world. The only variable he thinks that could possibly make those men want to side with the Shins would be an old family bond or rivalry, and as far as he can tell, these men have neither. So now, all he has to do is meet with them and find out what he can find out. 

Seokjin has a way with men. A look, a gesture, and a veiled threat are all he needs to get them talking. He has no doubt he will be able to make these men sing. 

* * *

Seokjin barely manages to light a cigar before his phone rings. The Choi brothers left mere minutes ago, and Seokjin had been hoping for a moment of alone time, but it is his informant who has been living with the Shin family, which makes this call potentially very important.

"Hyunjin, darling, what's the news?"

Seokjin sits back in his large, black leather chair, listening to the shocks whine as he leans, bending the springs a bit too far. He is in his real office on the second floor, and has a cigar between his teeth, slurring his words around it while he holds his cell phone to his ear. His informant, who works on Ryujin's drug-running team, sighs. 

"She plans to intercept Yoongi's next shipment of pills. Apparently, one of his dock men was bought. A man by the name of Kang Daesung is going to steal the shit."

"Fuckers," Seokjin mutters, spit flying from his lips. He takes a puff from the cigar and holds the smoke in, then lets it out with a bitter huff. It feels lackluster now, and he gently stubs the cigar out on a golden ashtray, then sets it aside to let it extinguish itself the rest of the way. 

Shin has really been coming for the drug operations, which has Seokjin feeling concerned for Jeongguk's safety. And his sanity.

"I am also one of the only people who knows this information, so now that I have passed it along, I have put a target on my back."

Seokjin hums and considers his options. 

"You want to come home, or hop off the peninsula for a while?"

Another sigh comes through the line, and Seokjin gives him time to consider. Hyunjin has been with the Shin family long enough that leaving the country may be his best bet, but he does have a family of his own, which could complicate things. 

When Hyunjin does not respond, Seokjin says, "We can get your little girl into a prestigious American school. Or Australian; there are plenty of Koreans in Australia. And we could assist with getting you and the wife nice jobs." 

"Yeah," Hyunjin says. "Yeah, you're right. I'll think it over and talk to Jisu. Maybe Australia would be good."

"Let me know," Seokjin says as he thumbs through his files, opening a folder that reads "Hwang Hyunjin'' and pulling out documents. "Your passport is current, and I have a burner identity on the books with a line of credit. I can have you on a flight within an hour, any time, day or night, alright?"

"Thank you, Seokjin-ssi."

As they end the call, Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He hates giving Yoongi bad news. This will also put another man in Jeongguk's crosshairs, and Seokjin really hopes that hunting him down will not also include killing fourteen of this man's closest friends. 

Seokjin dials Yoongi and is surprised he picks up on the first ring. "Jin."

"Yoongichi, bad news." 

Yoongi sighs and hums, and Seokjin continues. "Hwang called. Says Kang is planning to switch teams and sabotage the next shipment of pills."

"She bought him, eh?" Yoongi asks. 

"Yup."

"Fuckers."

"Yup."

"What about Hwang?"

"I offered him an out, and he said he would think about it. Considering Australia."

"Sounds good. I may call everyone to meet later. Taehyung has an engagement until nine, so it will be a late one if I do."

"Alright. I'm headed home soon. Should have my hands full for a few hours, so after nine is perfect."

"Thanks, Jin."

"No problem."

At least Yoongi's tone was pretty flat; no reaction from Yoongi is the best reaction. Especially if Namjoon is worried about him falling off the rails. 

This bump in the road aside, Seokjin considers the day a win, and he lifts his cigar, fits it between his lips, and lights it back up before locking up and heading out.

* * *

Seokjin My winning streak continues. This calls for celebration.

Hoseok In the pink dollhouse room?

Seokjin Of course, baby. Where else?

Hoseok ETA?

Seokjin 1 hour. Going to make a pitstop. I called Puppy, and he will be there in 20.

Hoseok  I'll be home to get our guest ready.

Seokjin Thank you, baby.

Hoseok  Anything for you, Jinnie bear.

To celebrate, Seokjin calls Hyungwon—his and Hoseok's favorite whore—to join them in one of the dollhouse rooms. Hoseok is home to get him ready while Seokjin stops at one of the boutiques to buy him a white leather muzzle that is shaped to fit a dog, with pointed ears on top and a pretty pink bow in the center. 

The pièces de résistance, however, is a bar inside the muzzle for Hyungwon to bite down on, ideally making a mess of himself with drool. 

One of Hyungwon's favorite toys is an anal plug with a long white tail, and Seokjin wants to see him with a pretty new accessory to match it. And, although Seokjin has plenty of items like this in his puppy playhouse room, this muzzle is a gift specifically for his most special whore. He is feeling rather generous tonight.

The drive home is short and sweet, and when Seokjin arrives, he is pleased to see a motorcycle parked in the driveway and light shining through the sheer white curtains of the first room on the second floor, confirming that Hyungwon has, in fact, already arrived, and that Hoseok must be getting him ready. 

Seokjin always finds it incredible how the man can strip down from all his worn, thick leather and stand in the prettiest pink lingerie, and he laments briefly that he was not home to witness the transformation. 

When Jimin first hired Hyungwon at Paradise, Seokjin thought that, perhaps, the heavens had opened up and shined just for him. He has a cold indifference to him that makes Seokjin want to break him apart and make him sob. And he does.

Hyungwon is the only man who allows Seokjin to do every little sadistic thing he desires, then leaves at the end of the session with a soft kiss and a promise to return. Seokjin treasures him dearly. 

Many whores blacklist him for less. 

Of course, now that Jimin has returned to their bed, Hyungwon may have to take second place, but that is a discussion for another time. Seokjin is eager to make Jimin sob again and again, but he worries about coming on too strongly and scaring him off. Jimin has always been quite sensitive, which Seokjin will never understand, but he does his best to respect it.

Seokjin takes his time exiting the car, grabbing the black paper shopping bag with an expensive monogram on all sides. He knows the men have heard his car pull up, and he wants to draw out the anticipation and make them wait. 

Hoseok, in particular, hates to wait. His temper is as explosive as the incendiary devices he so enjoys crafting, and Seokjin takes pleasure in pushing his buttons.

As he punches the hex code of his partner's favorite shade of sunshine yellow into the door and waits for the device to scan his retina, Seokjin takes a deep breath and allows a hint of a smile to creep over his face.

Things within the family have been a bit of a mess lately, but everything seems to be going fairly well, aside from their drug runner turning heel. Men on the lower ranks tend to chase money, after all; they are no stranger to these types of incidents.

If he can ensure the Choi brothers remain loyal and convince Yoongi's darling to leave town for a while, everything might even be perfect for some time. Seokjin hesitates to dwell on the thought.

Once inside, Seokjin closes the front door as quietly as he can and has a seat on his chaise lounge to remove his wingtips one at a time, placing them carefully beside the rows of footwear. Then, he takes the handles of the bag gently in his fingers and creeps up to the second floor, stalking like a tiger in the hope of catching the men off guard. 

He can hear their voices coming from the room, though what they are saying is difficult to make out. Hoseok has an excited lilt to his voice, and Hyungwon is speaking too softly to be detected clearly. Hyungwon is often quite soft-spoken—another thing Seokjin enjoys about him. 

As Seokjin gets to the top of the stairs, he forgets that the landing step is particularly creaky, putting down his weight as the wood whines beneath his toes. He lets out the breath that he had been holding, dropping his head in a defeated sigh as a tuft of brown hair shoots out from the first door on the right, and Seokjin spots his partner. 

"Gotta get that step fixed," Seokjin complains as he straightens his posture and smooths down his burgundy jacket. 

Hoseok grins from ear to ear, and he stands in the doorway to the pink dollhouse room with his hair disheveled and the top four buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sight of exposed sun-kissed skin has Seokjin's heart thudding behind his ribs, and he lifts a brow, playfully assessing the sight. 

"Did my puppies begin without me?" he teases as he approaches with his shoulders hunched forward to give Hoseok the impression that he is stalking his prey.

Hoseok chuckles, and Seokjin can tell he is feeling shy from the accusation as he bites his lip and shakes his head. "Hyungwon messed up my hair because he wanted you to think we had started without you. But we are being good puppies, I promise."

With a hum, Seokjin stalks further, watching Hoseok become increasingly antsy the closer he gets. "And is he all ready for me?"

"He is," Hoseok beams, taking a step back to allow Seokjin to enter the room. 

Seokjin, however, pounces, pressing Hoseok into the far side of the door frame and caging him in with his arms, giving him nowhere to go. With a hand on the dollhouse room wall and the hand holding onto the shopping bag on the hallway wall, Seokjin towers over his partner and gazes down at him hungrily.

"But are you ready for me?"

A silly question, since a stipulation to being Seokjin's lover is to be ready at all times. Hoseok cleans himself every morning, and he inserts a plug every time Seokjin is expected to be home so that there is very little need for prep and Seokjin can take what he wants. 

Of course, Seokjin is no monster; if they are unable to engage in play, Hoseok simply removes the plug—or gets himself off and then removes it—ensuring that it does not stay nestled up inside him long enough to cause any kind of complications or health risks. 

But Seokjin tries to be very clear about his expectations, and they communicate their schedules in order to make sure Hoseok can be ready for him at the drop of a hat. Seokjin's appetite is insatiable, and it is not unusual for them to fuck five or six nights a week. One of the reasons they invite so many whores to play dress up and join them is to give Hoseok a little extra help. That, and whores tend to come pre-used.

A plus side of fucking Jimin back in the day was when he would come home from the club, already stretched from his clients. Even when he would whine about being sore and sensitive, he would be such a good, pliant boy for Seokjin. Not a day goes by that Seokjin doesn't dream about the sweet sounds Jimin would make, becoming an overstimulated, sobbing mess long before either of them would reach their first orgasm. 

Hoseok's smile falters ever so slightly, and Seokjin already knows what he is going to say. He must have assumed that, because they have a guest for the night, Hoseok would not be expected to be stretched. He should know by now that when Seokjin calls with good news, that a victory fuck is in order, whether or not they are tending to a guest for the evening. 

And this, Seokjin thinks, is the danger of falling in love. Years ago, Seokjin would plot ways to punish his puppy for being so short-sighted and disobedient. But now? Staring into his deep brown eyes, downturned beneath a knit brow, all Seokjin wants to do is kiss him and tell him everything will be alright. His heart has become soft. 

Before Hoseok can excuse his bad behavior, Seokjin plants a soft smooch on the tip of his nose and grins. "I'm kidding," he assures softly. 

"You're not," Hoseok groans as relief paints his face. 

"I'm not," Seokjin admits, taking a step back and allowing Hoseok to breathe. "But I am in too good of a mood to make you cry."

"Lucky me," Hoseok teases with a wink. 

Seokjin leans in and places a kiss on Hoseok's forehead, then enters the room. The walls are all painted cotton candy pink, and there is a large bed on the left with plush pink bedding and a white wrought iron sleigh frame with beautiful spiral designs at the head and foot—perfect for attaching restraints. 

Hoseok's favorite addition to the room is a pale pink sex swing that hangs from the center of the space, with vines wrapped around the long arms that stretch to the ceiling. Seokjin is partial to the vanity with a large mirror that is very sturdy and perfect for humiliation play. 

The wooden furniture and wainscoting are all painted pink with gold accents, the floor is covered in pink carpeting and large, white cloud-shaped rugs, and every light fixture is a giant, white orb. In the corner of the room furthest from the bed is a chair in the shape of a giant pink high-heel, and when Seokjin enters, that is where he finds their guest. 

Hyungwon is breathtaking in sheer pink babydoll lingerie with little ruffled sleeves that hang from his shoulders, and a skirt that falls just above his thighs. He reclines on the shoe chair with one knee bent, bare foot adorned with pretty silver chains and rings, perched delicately atop the chair, and the other leg down, spread slightly to accommodate for the chair's width. His hair is long enough to be styled behind his ears—straight and black as a raven's feather—and he wears a thick silver choker of shimmering zirconias and a glittery lip balm.

"Master Seokjin," Hyungwon states as he moves from his reclined position—which Seokjin assumes he only sat in to be a tease, in the first place—and slowly lifts his leg, leaning forward and getting onto his hands and knees. "You look ravishing tonight, sir."

Seokjin turns to Hoseok with a puzzled expression, then back to Hyungwon, "Baby, did you give our pet permission to speak?"

"I did not, sir," Hoseok responds simply, standing near the wall with his arms flat at his sides. "But you do look ravishing tonight, sir."

How in the world Seokjin wound up with two disobedient puppies, he will never know, but he cannot bring himself to be upset when they are so devastatingly pretty and so good to him. Seokjin reaches to tap the underside of Hoseok's chin with the pad of his finger—a playful gesture that also tells him to keep that gorgeous fucking mouth of his closed unless he is asked to open it.

Hoseok smiles, winks, and does not say another word.

"I got you something," Seokjin beams as he turns back to Hyungwon, closing the gap between them. 

He reaches into the bag, pulls out the leather dog muzzle, and holds it up. Hyungwon's eyes widen, and a soft smile plays on his lips. If the man truly is excited, Seokjin has no idea; all he cares about is that he acts the part, as he is paid to do. And Hyungwon, as always, is a brilliant performer.

* * *

The shower down the hall in the guest bathroom runs as Seokjin pushes a hand through his hair, walking from the dollhouse room to his bedroom. His cream shirt is unbuttoned and hung open, burgundy pants are undone, and he is covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Hyungwon practically needed to be carried away when Seokjin was finished with him, and Hoseok is currently assisting with washing him and tending to his various marks with creams. Seokjin was not too hard on him, but his nails did break skin a couple of times, and he spanked him until both cheeks were tomato red. 

Although it is getting late, Yoongi has called to request everyone to congregate at the mansion at the top of the hour. It gives Seokjin thirty-five minutes to change into a black dress shirt and slacks and see that Hyungwon is able to get home on his own or has a suitable bed to sleep in for the night. Ordinarily, Seokjin is not as kind to his whores, but after what he did to the guy's ass, he takes pity on him for driving out on a motorcycle. 

The sound of the shower shutting off is followed by muffled voices, and Seokjin shrugs out of his shirt, dropping it into a hamper near the closet door, and grabs a black shirt from a hanger. He attempts to listen for the men—to get a sense of whether or not Hyungwon will need to stay—but all he can make out is Hoseok's bright, happy laughter. 

Seokjin loves it when Hoseok laughs loud and unabashedly. It rings like music to his ears. 

"Baby?" Hoseok calls down the hallway. 

Seokjin takes a step out of the closet as he buttons his shirt and shouts, "Bedroom," then returns to the racks of clothing and wiggles out of his slacks, picking them up and placing them into the hamper, and then reaching for a black pair to slide into.

"Ah," Hoseok says as he rounds the corner and finds Seokjin dressed in all black. "Yoongi called."

"He did," Seokjin responds. 

"For all of us?"

"For all of us."

"Hyungwon should be good to drive, but I'll go check on him."

Seokjin flashes Hoseok a smile. "Thank you, love."

Once he is ready, Seokjin switches off the light and exits his and Hoseok's massive closet, then he leaves the bedroom and makes his way down the hall, to the pink dollhouse room. The dark wood wainscoting and blood-red walls adorned with pretty brass sconces is such an abrupt change of scenery compared to the pink playroom, and from time to time, it makes Seokjin chuckle softly when he leaves one atmosphere for the other. 

Hyungwon sits on the edge of the bed dressed in blue jeans, a blue and white flannel shirt, and a black leather jacket, with his hands in his lap. Hoseok stands before him, dabbing a salve to his lip, which Seokjin split from slapping a little too hard once the muzzle came off. To Seokjin's credit, Hyungwon was the one who begged him to hit him harder. 

As Seokjin enters, both men turn to him with smiles, and Seokjin leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"How is our puppy feeling?"

"Amazing," Hyungwon responds, always saying so no matter which state he seems to be in. 

"Good. And I take it your ass isn't too sore for the bike?"

Hoseok shoots Seokjin an incredulous glare, which he pointedly ignores. 

Hyungwon chuckles quietly. "No, sir. Not too sore."

"Good. I will be downstairs, then." He turns his gaze to Hoseok. "Join me soon?"

Hoseok nods and screws the cap on his balm, then leans to place a soft kiss on Hyungwon's forehead as Seokjin takes his leave and goes downstairs, to the kitchen, to have a few shots of whiskey before heading out to Yoongi's place. 

It does not take long for the others to join him, and they bid Hyungwon farewell with kisses to his cheeks and forehead, then link hands and take the long way to Yoongi's property, up toward Taehyung's place and cutting through the gardens. It is eerie out here at night with low lighting and tall, dark shadows. They walk all the way around the mansion, to the front door, and find Taehyung and Jeongguk on the stoop, smoking a cigarette.

"Fellas," Seokjin calls, and everyone lifts their hand hello.

"Is it just us?" Hoseok asks, and Taehyung shakes his head, saying, "Jimin is inside."

Seokjin takes a puff from Taehyung's cigarette, then goes inside, happy to find Jimin and Namjoon seated on the couch as he takes his place on the far end. Seokjin assumes Yoongi would be upstairs and is surprised to see him enter through the front door with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Once they are all seated, Yoongi begins. 

"We have two orders of business, which are somewhat related. The first is that Jeonggukie has been working with a team to formalize a new type of ecstasy that contains amphetamines, to give the user more of an upper-type high. It will be smoother than the shit the Americans sell, which contain meth, and the users will crave the experience, ideally getting them hooked on it."

This news comes as somewhat of a surprise to Seokjin, but he does not show it, keeping his expression stoic. He is curious when Yoongi decided to pivot into selling drugs for the purpose of creating addicts, and thinks perhaps the man really is losing his mind. He sounds like his late father, which is no compliment.

Yoongi continues. "So far, the trials have been pretty positive, and we should have those on the streets within the next month, or so. Let Jeongguk know if you would like samples."

Yoongi sits up and sighs, "And for our second order of business, it seems our main dock man Kang has been bought, and he plans to fuck with our next shipment of pills. I will be orchestrating a hit some time this weekend."

"I can go," Jeongguk offers, and Seokjin is pleased when Yoongi holds his hand up, turning him down.

"I need you to stay here this weekend. I want us to start going to the range again, and there are some other things I want you around for. I'll put Changkyun on the job."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to complain, and Yoongi cuts him off. "Ggukie, we have men hired to carry out hits. Let me utilize them."

Silence falls, then Namjoon clears his throat. "Is there anything anyone else would like to share?"

Seokjin cannot believe everyone was called over for this, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glances around. When nobody says anything, he shrugs and says, "Guess that's it."

"Alright," Yoongi says as he slaps his palms over his knees and stands with a sigh. "I thought this would be more of a conversation, but it seems pretty cut and dry. Thanks for coming by."

Seokjin studies Yoongi as he stands, curious about what Namjoon sees that makes him so paranoid. There are bags under his eyes, and he seems quite tired, but he does not seem jittery or pale, or any of the other symptoms Seokjin tries to remember from his last bender. 

It could be his more recent shift in seeming colder than usual. Prior to the pet moving in upstairs, Yoongi even went so far as to have a nasty little violent streak. Still, violence is not an indicator of drug abuse.

Yoongi has always been good at hiding shit until it is really bad, however, and he has always been quite unreadable, wearing parts of himself on his sleeve while keeping the rest locked away. He hopes that Namjoon's suspicions are false, but nobody would know better than him.

With that, everyone stands to leave, including Yoongi. In fact, the only person who seems to hang back is Namjoon. They say good night, everyone begins to head back to their homes, and Namjoon locks up the mansion as Yoongi slides his hands into his pockets and sets off in the direction of Namjoon's home.

Something is definitely amiss, but Seokjin does not feel like asking. The warmth of Hoseok's hand pulls him from his thoughts as he is tugged in the direction of home.

When they return from the meeting that could have been a conversation via group text, Seokjin sits with a huff on his chaise lounge. He bends his leg to lift it in order to untie his shoe, but Hoseok drops to his knees and places a hand on Seokjin's foot, guiding it to the floor. 

"You seem off, baby," Hoseok mutters sweetly. "Let me take care of you."

With an affectionate smile, Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest and lets his posture droop in a sigh. "Always taking care of others."

Hoseok's eyes shine as he mutters, "I live to serve."

Seokjin chuckles and sits up straight as Hoseok removes one shoe, then the other, and places them neatly aside. "We both know that is untrue."

"Yes," Hoseok responds, also laughing. 

Seokjin leans forward, takes Hoseok's chin in his hand, and pulls him close. Hoseok strains to get near enough, sitting high on his knees, but Seokjin stays just out of reach as he says, "You can still take care of me, though."

He revels in the way Hoseok's tone drops as he asks, "And how would you like me to do that, baby?"

Seokjin begins to think of all the ways he would like to make Hoseok whine, but Hoseok continues, "It's been a while since you've submitted to me and completely let go of control."

It has been a while. Probably months. Seokjin mulls it over with a squint of his eyes. There is nothing in this world that he likes more than pulling sweet sounds from Hoseok's lips, but he knows that Hoseok also enjoys being in control. However, relinquishing power does not come easily to a man like Seokjin.

"You are correct," Seokjin finally responds. "It has been a while."

Hoseok's eyes glimmer with mirth, and even if Seokjin had not been considering it before, he would certainly cave now. With a nibble of his bottom lip, Seokjin leans close enough to kiss Hoseok. 

"I'll let you fuck me tonight. Give me twenty minutes to get ready?"

With a pout, Hoseok shakes his head. "I want to get you ready."

"Oh?"

"Please."

"Enema play, Seok? Really?"

Hoseok shrugs. "I want to watch you tremble and whimper as the water falls out."

Seokjin, admittedly, gets it. "Alright, let's go."

Hoseok is gentle as he takes Seokjin's hand and leads him up the stairs and down the hall to their master suite. He is gentle as he undresses him and leads him to their shower. Gentle when he bends Seokjin over—hands splayed on the white tile bench that runs along one wall—and inserts the nozzle of the enema. Seokjin gasps from the sensation; he hasn't done this in quite a while.

When Hoseok takes Seokjin by the hair and lifts his head, pulling him into a standing position, he is less gentle. Lifting the bag, which is full of tepid water, so that it can enter his body makes Seokjin gasp, sending a shudder through him. 

Hoseok holds his chin, firm and not very gently as he says, "Eyes on me," and slowly pulls the nozzle out, releasing the water to the floor of the shower. 

Seokjin keeps his eyes on Hoseok as the water rushes from him, a sensation that he thinks should not be in the least bit erotic. Hoseok knows that this is mildly humiliating, which, Seokjin thinks, is the reason he is insisting on it. 

Hoseok inserts the nozzle two more times, sending water rushing from Seokjin's rectum, holding him in place while they stare into one another's eyes. Warmth covers Seokjin's face in a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and when Hoseok bends him back over right there in the shower to eat him out, Seokjin practically blacks out. 

"Fuck, feels so good," he whimpers as Hoseok teases his hole with his tongue, circling the rim and prodding inside. 

"You like it, baby?" Hoseok groans, biting Seokjin's buttcheek and circling a finger over him, gently pushing inside and pulling out, making Seokjin sigh and tremble from pleasure-pain. 

"You know I do," Seokjin whines.

Hoseok groans. "Too bad I won't let you cum until you're begging and sobbing."

Evil. Pure fucking evil. Hoseok loves making someone like Seokjin beg. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and Hoseok chuckles and crashes a hand over his ass with a loud, wet smack.

"Come on, big boy," Hoseok sing-songs "Let's tie you to the bed and make you scream."

Seokjin already fears for his life, knowing that Hoseok will edge him for hours. But the earth-shattering orgasm that tears his world asunder, followed by Hoseok's sweet, pretty smile, makes everything worth it. How could he possibly resist?

*

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG!!!

i didn't give Hyungwon a relationship tag since he's not a main character in the story, nor does he appear again. for those of you who aren't monbebe, this is the man i was talking about:

i also remember being too exhausted to write a smut scene when i was putting this POV together, which is why we don't get to experiencing these three together hahaha. i think i wrote Hoseok and Seokjin back to back.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022 - 2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations or reposts allowed!

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

no no I get it. except the dog motif part we all need to stop talking about dog motifs they're boring and the two characters were hunted by dogs anyway not the dogs themselves. but prey animal motif is scarier for everyone I guess, implying paradoxical injustice of their role. and then you'd be maliciously distracting from the main victims of the narrative by having sympathy for more minor characters! anyway I've lost the original point of what I was saying

Haha, I must disappoint you since I don't think I'll ever get over Dog Motifs, they have been there for me since I was little and will probably be there for the next few years. And I still believe they are appropriate for Jeyne & Kyra. Kyra is thematically linked to the dogs by having one named after her and Jeyne is also implied to have been at their mercy too but she also became part of the bastard's bitches by being another woman who was victimised by Ramsay and her connection to Theon. I feel like it even fits (barely) the Beauty & the beast thing a little, but with the heroine (whom at this point had been only portrayed in an antagonistic light) being victimised and then turned into a monster. I overall really love the way dogs have been portrayed so ambiguously in asoiaf. People talk about Theon & the Hound but there's also Brienne traveling with the septon and the dog and Ramsay turning abused women into them to further victimise other women. There's a long web-weaving thing on dogs in asoiaf that has been hanging around my drafts for a few months now.

However I must admit that my actual favourite motif for Jeyne is the sheep in wolf's skin one. My current icon is a wip that will hopefully portray that when finished. And while there's no canon reasoning for it, I have developed a taste for imagining her to have some sort of deer related theme. Probably because of this art and also my love for Adriana La Cerva's character arc particularly her last episode.

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[firemanwhenthefloodsrollback]

Who Saved The Day? Season 3

Evening all. I'm back with the third instalment of my series Who Saved The Day? looking at who, numerically, saved the day the most times in buffy the vampire slayer. At the end of season two we left the totals at:

Buffy: 23

Angel: 3

Giles: 3

Chris: 1

Kendra: 1

Sid: 1

Willow: 1

Xander: 1

as we go deeper through the seasons we'll be getting deeper, darker and more morally complex, becoming more and more of an ensemble show and introducing more characters so without further ado, let's see where we end up in season three.

1. Anne: Lily

Buffy literally brings hope and the idea of rebellion to Hell in this episode and teaches Lily that it's possible to keep living - she clearly does lots. But Lily gathers the strength to push Ken onto the concrete mid-speech and literally deprive the hell dimension of its demon. Four for you lily, you go lily.

2. Dead Man's Party: Buffy

Clearly, definitely Buffy. In the midst of being treated like crap, frankly, by the people who are meant to love her, Buffy still finds the time to put a shovel in the eyes of a mask demon.

3. Faith, Hope & Trick: Faith

Faith gets the point in her very first episode - I'd expect nothing less from you babe. Yes Buffy did a lot, and Faith is certainly emotionally all over the place, but she puts a large piece of architecture through Kakistos' chest.

4. Beauty And The Beasts: Angel

I'm far from an Angel stan but arriving looking more monster than man, saving the day when no one believed he still had it in him to even recognise buffy, then falling to his knees and calling her by her name is a hell of an ending.

5. Homecoming: Cordelia

Am I biased by wanting Cordelia to have this point? Yes, yes I am. But her speech to Lyle about why she's so threatening he needs to escape when Buffy is knocked out absolutely does save them and she deserves a hell of a lot for that.

6. Band Candy: Buffy

Buffy certainly burns that demon. This isn't an episode that makes me think of danger or fighting though, this is an episode that makes me think of Snyder partying at the bronze and Giles and Joyce having sex on the hood of a police car. So really they won. But technically Buffy incinerated someone.

7. Revelations: Buffy

Buffy and Faith work so well as a team here but only one person can have the point, and Buffy does a good job cutting off that arm. (Fun fact: this is the second episode where Buffy edges the point by stealing an arm!)

8. Lovers Walk: Oz

Oz? This isn't an episode in which the day got saved really, both because the villain was a drunk man feeling his feelings and because it didn't end great. But Oz finding Willow and Xander using his wolf senses probably counts?

9. The Wish: Giles

"Because it has to be." One of Giles' absolute finest moments, gives me such incredible chills.

10. Amends: Buffy

Really it's the deus ex machina of the snow and the powers that be that gets us out of this one, but every episode someone has to get the point, and Buffy's speech gets it.

11. Gingerbread: Buffy

Cordelia gets a lot of points here, but Buffy actually stabs the demon with a wooden stake that she is literally tied to so I couldn't deny Buffy.

12. Helpless: Buffy

Buffy has an awful lot of wins here - it is her show after all - but this is one of my all time favourites and a flawless reminder of why she's one of the all time great heroines. Outsmarting the vampire in her dungarees while terrified with no powers at all is why she is the love of my life.

13. The Zeppo: Xander

"I like the quiet." I know we all have a lot of feelings about Xander in the twenty first century - I do too - but there is no arguing with his speech at the end of the Zeppo.

14. Bad Girls: Buffy

Well she does electrocute that vampire. I think this is Buffy's second electrocution point of the show? It's not an episode that we come away from feeling like we won much though really is it

15. Consequences: Faith

It is firmly Faith that deserves the point by staking Mr Trick. of course, she does go on to make a lot of things much worse in like the next scene when she teams up with the mayor but that's not the point here in this episodes

16. Doppelgangland: Anya

I guess? She very much did cause this issue. But then she solved this issue. So sorta.

17. Enemies: Angel

A lot of people made a very good case for getting the point here. Giles makes the whole plan able to happen, Buffy and Angel actually do the plan, and Buffy fights Faith at the end. But I'm gonna say that as the entire plan hinged on Angel and he did the bulk of the acting job, and the whole thing hinged around him being the main plan guy, it's his point.

18. Earshot: Buffy

Xander discovers the lunch lady's evil plan, but then Buffy whacks her on the head, so it's Buffy's point.

19. Choices: Willow

This was a very ensemble episode and of all the episodes I've done so far, this very much made me feel like insisting on choosing one character per episode doesn't always work. But I had to pick one, and Willow escaped the room she was being held in to rip pages from the books of ascension. The evil beetles were kinda a team effort so I don't know who got the point for dealing with them?

20. The Prom: Buffy

Buffy dealt with the hellhounds and also with issues relating to the end of your first teenage relationship. A double win.

21. Graduation Day 1: Buffy

First parts of two parters are hard guys. Buffy stabs Faith so - I guess? It doesn't help much and it certainly doesn't save the day. But I committed to picking so ???

22. Graduation Day 2: Buffy

A much more straightforward equation. Explode the snake.

So in season 3 we had a much lower proportion of Buffy wins compared to the first few seasons but still, obviously, a lot - I think reflecting the show becoming more of an ensemble cast and letting supporting characters shine more. We also had our second arm-theft victory for Buffy, which is not a connection I would ever have made if I hadn't started writing this series of posts. Who knew. If you think I've got anything wrong please do let me know!

At the end of Season 3 our leaderboard is:

Buffy: 32

Angel: 5

Giles: 4

Faith: 2

Willow: 2

Xander: 2

Anya: 1

Chris: 1

Cordelia: 1

Kendra: 1

Lily: 1

Oz: 1

Sid: 1

If you'd like to read the rest of the series you can find them here!

Intro post, Season 1, Season 2, Season 4, Season 5, Season 6, Season 7

[tsukikoayanosuke]

Behind the Fic: Trivia Cards Collection - Ruggie and Trey’s Family’s Names

When Twisted-Wonderland give you chance to make new year holiday cards or memes, but you decided to use it for something useless as character trivia cards.

Remember: most of these are not canon. 

Ruggie’s Family

Grandma: Sienna Bucchi

Name meaning: English name derived from the vocabulary word sienna, meaning "reddish-orange."

A reference to Little Red Riding Hood's grandma and the red hood itself. A sick woman who is the mother of Ruggie's late mother. Later she became Ruggie's sole guardian.

Father: Sawyer Bucchi

Name meaning: Occupational name for someone who earned his living by sawing wood, Middle English saghier, an agent derivative of sagh(en) 'to saw'. Americanized form of some like-sounding Jewish surname or a translation of Seger.

A reference to the hunter/woodcutter and the forest itself. A working man who tried his best to feed his family, switching job in various shift. He unfortunately died from exhaustion just a few months after winning custody from his abusive wife.

Mother: Aldofina Bosco

Name meaning: English origin name with the meaning "noble wolf."

Surname meaning: Means "forest" in Italian.

A reference to the wolf who ate the grandma and later Little Red Riding Hood. On the outside, she's a kind woman, however, she's abusive toward poor Ruggie everytime her husband is out to work. After the divorce, she lost custody of Ruggie who moved with his father and grandma.

Son: Ruggie Bucchi

Name meaning: The closest to his first name is 'Reggie' which means 'mighty counselor-ruler' (English) or 'powerful ruler' (German).

A vague reference to Little Red Riding Hood. After his parents got divorced and his father died not long after, Ruggie had been jumping around accepting odd jobs in the street as long as he could feed his grandma.

Trey’s Family

Father: Lowell Clover

Name meaning: From an English surname that was derived from a Norman French nickname, from lou "wolf" and a diminutive suffix. The surname was borne by American poet and satirist James Russell Lowell (1819-1891).

A reference to the Big Bad Wolf who died from being boiled alive. Trey's father has a low immune system which resulted in him getting fever frequently. He, however, died when Trey was still young. He once worked as a teacher and always felt guilty knowing that his wife gave up her dream to be with him.

Mother: Carmen Clover

Name meaning: Medieval Spanish form of CARMEL influenced by the Latin word carmen "song". This was the name of the main character in George Bizet's opera Carmen (1875).

A reference to the Disney song "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?". A fiery woman who once a theater star before dropped out after marrying Lowell because of his health complications.

First Son: Trey Clover

Name meaning: English name meaning "three". Originally a nickname for a third-generation son, as in Thurman Thackeray III, Trey is now being given to others, and it has also expanded to Treynor and Treyton. The name also is popular among basketball fans: It's another word for a three-point shot

A vague reference to the three little pigs, more specifically, the number 3. After his father's death, Trey must become the man of the household, being his mother's helper. He learned how to bake from his mother and her friends, and soon become the main baker of his shop.

Second Son: Milford Clover

Name meaning: From an English surname that was originally derived from various place names all meaning "ford by a mill" in Old English.

A vague reference to the pig's straw house which got blown down by the wolf. A timid boy who is the twin of Clematis and has a soft spot for romance novels.

First Daughter: Clematis Clover

Name meaning: From the English word for a type of flowering vine, ultimately derived from Greek κλήμα (klema) meaning "twig, branch".

A vague reference to the pig's stick house which got blown down by the wolf. A loud and aggressive girl who is the twin of Milford. She's very easy to be provoked and will not hesitate to headbutt on the stomach.

Second Daughter: Diamond Clover

Name meaning: From the English word diamond for the clear colorless precious stone, the birthstone of April. It is derived from Late Latin diamas, from Latin adamas, which is of Greek origin meaning "invincible, untamed".

A vague reference to the pig's brick house which the wolf failed to blow down. The youngest of the Clover siblings who unfortunately inherit their father's low immune system. She couldn't get out of the house too much and needs to drink a lot of medication. But, she has a passion for singing.

Family Friend: Deborah Karuta

Name meaning: From the Hebrew name דְּבוֹרָה (Devorah) meaning "bee". In the Old Testament Book of Judges, Deborah is a heroine and prophetess who leads the Israelites when they are threatened by the Canaanites.

Surname meaning:  Japanese playing cards that were introduced to Japan by the Portuguese traders during the mid-16th century.

A reference to the honey tree from "The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh" episode, "Three Little Piglets". A friend of Carmen who taught her and Trey how to bake.

[otometearoom]

I Finished Tsumugu Logic!! Overview/Rant

It took me a month, but I finished the last chapter of the game and got the true ending. I will keep playing to get all of the other bad ends, etc. 

I have so so many feels about this game, y’all. I will be highlighting a few chapters in the game, so if you haven’t finished it. Beware of spoilers!!

[MANY SPOILERS/ENDINGS BELOW]

To recount my feelings throughout the game for each character: 

1. Tsumugu is a cutie pie. I actually really related to him, because I’m also at that point in my life where I have to decide what exactly I want to do for the rest of my life. I just finished university, but I’m still unsure about my career ahahah. So, seeing Tsumugu struggle to figure his life out was refreshing. 

2. “Sosei” is so hot. I laid eyes on him and thought, uh-oh, he’s my new addiction ahahah. I would buy his merchandise if there was any. The dude loves sweets (how cute is that) and he has such a good head for mysteries (my dream man). Plus, he’s a tsundere but really cares about Tsumugu, often giving hints and advice to him. He’s a very trustworthy older brother/senpai. I could gush over how much I love Sosei for ages. His drunken habits -> those are to die for. He becomes so lewd and straightforward. I love it. 

“Koyo”, on the other hand, I didn’t like him as much as Sosei. Which is weird, cause I love ikemen. Maybe I’m just drawn more into the withdrawn, mysterious guys?? I do like the concept of twin brothers though. I have a bit of a dirty mind so when the twins said they shared everything, even their gf, I was like ohohoho, 3p? 

I absolutely enjoyed the twins together though. I love seeing them pretend to be the other. I wish they had more of an appearance lol. I could even say that Sosei and Koyo are a scale higher than Tsumugu for me. I wish the twins were the main protagonists ahahah. No offense Tsumugu. 

I’ll just summarize my first impressions for others real quick: 

3. Kotoko - I thought she was cute, but I never really liked her and couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly why. This feeling will come into play later on. So at first, I was like meh, she’s okay, I guess. But, as I learned more about her, I really didn’t like her character that much. I mean, I wouldn’t say I hated her but I didn’t find her as a good fit for Tsumugu. 

- When she told Tsumugu to be a salesman or whatever. I was like, do you even know Tsumugu? Lmao. I didn’t know if it was just me empathizing with Tsumugu cuz I’ve often been told of what I should be, but no one asks what I want to be. 

- When she didn’t want to help Mirei, I thought how odd, for someone who tries to befriend everyone, she’s not doing so well as a heroine. I mean, it was realistic, at least. But, I think the chapter where she admits that she tries really hard to fit in so others will like her was starting to draw some red flags for me. It made me wonder how much of her was ‘real��. Idk if I’m making any sense though.

- When she swung the knife at Tsumugu, I didn’t hate her as much as I did when she swung the knife at Sosei (who protected Tsumugu) and killed him. I was furious then. 

4. Sally - I admit I was really turned off by the girly lolita style. Mainly because I’m more tomboyish irl. But, she had a good sense of justice so I actually liked her. It did come as a shock to me though that she was the “gorilla” girl that was forced to kiss Nozaki. Tbh, I was kinda sad she died at the end. Like, I know she killed Hikone, but I could understand her motive better than I could understand Kotoko’s motive. Maybe cuz I have an older brother and can’t see myself being a brocon? ahahah. 

5. Toma - In terms of hotness, he comes 2nd right after Sosei. He’s a really good friend. And I absolutely adore how he scares ppl with his glare lol. i love yankees ahaha. He’s not afraid to speak his mind. He’s a very solid character.

6. Daimon - My girl crush. High key curious who she’s arranged to marry because her fiance seems boring. Who takes an hour to choose a handkerchief? Anyways, Im sad that Daimon and Sosei never got to meet because I’m low key shipping them. Idk if they’d click well romantically because they’re so similar, but I would’ve loved for some sort of interaction. They’d make for an epic couple, solving mysteries. I really wanna write a fic for them. 

7. Tsukasa Tsukasa - I didn’t like him because of the cheating and blaming on my poor Toma, but after that, he was okay. Plus, he helped write the Tsumugu’s love letter to Kotoko. Which I find is funny, because Kotoko copied Tsukasa’s writing, thinking it was Tsumugu’s. Ahahah. The lesson here, folks, is that don’t use your own handwriting in love letters, you never know if you’re crush will copy said handwriting into your own suicide letter. 

8. Mirei - that girl can sing. I kinda cried after hearing it cuz I was going through something at the time and it really encouraged me. 

9. Landlady & Hikkimori - Both names that I can’t remember off the top of my head. I think both people are fun. The landlady is super supportive. And the hikkimori refusing to talk with Sosei made for a fun dynamic. I genuinely enjoyed seeing Sosei offended. Nice way to see emotions on my fave character. 

10. Other characters (Rindo, Happy, Travel Club Members) - I genuinely did not care enough about ahahah. I think I even enjoyed seeing some of them murdered, tbh. They were really horrible people in different ways. 

The Black club members headed under Fumi. Like what? How do you control victims to be assailants and live with yourself to be a future kindergarten teacher? Like what? I couldn’t live with myself if I was her. Plus, her disproportionately large boobs were really weirding me out. I can’t believe Yu died all because Fumi wanted to f*ck him. It’s like one day you’re living your best life and someone thinks, ah, I wanna ruin this person. 

Don’t even get me started with Nozaki. That dude is a piece of trash. Human garbage. He knows how it feels to be a victim and yet thinks it’s his right to assault women. I wanted to slap that guy so hard. So many times. He was like the boy who cried wolf. He kept pretending to be dead and eventually died in the hands of Kotoko. XD I wonder what his last thoughts were. To have died in the hands of someone he trusted. 

Hikone was another nutcase. From what I understood, he just saw everyone else as characters in his book. Sure, he didn’t physically harm anyone, but doing nothing and observing is just as much of a crime as committing it. 

Shun. I never really like cutesy guys. But when he turned out to be an ex-pimp plus lover of Fumi, he fell off the likeable scale. 

Yoshimoto being an uncontrollable drunk murderer was the only thing needed to complete the psycho Travel Club members. Tbh, I thought he was the one behind the killings at first ahaha. 

Suguha. I thought she was a tough chick. It was cool to know that she had another motive to get closer to Fumi. Because I thought it was weird how she took her cellphone at the BBQ restaurant. It’s nice to know that SEEC still foreshadows like that. 

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Felandaris

Chapter 22 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is up. In which there are feels! And smut!

A long one this week: >10k words. SORRY. Read on AO3 instead if you fancy!

*************************

Later that night, Tamaris sat cross-legged on her bed massaging the stump of her left arm while Felassan and Varric played cards downstairs. The dinner conversation that night kept on routing back to wolf hunt business, and Tamaris had forced herself to tolerate it largely out of guilt. Every possible effort was needed in their efforts against Solas, so there was no excuse anymore to keep her head buried in the sand. 

By the time they’d finished eating and Varric had broken out his pack of cards, Tamaris was feeling too irritable to be of good company, even though she’d been the one to invite Varric to stay. And unfortunately, the main source of her good mood these days — namely, Felassan — was partly to blame for her bad mood. 

She’d eventually excused herself on the premise of wanting some time to process everything she’d heard today. When Varric offered to leave, she insisted very firmly that he stay to play with Felassan, then blithely ignored Felassan’s frown and swiftly made her way up to her bedroom to be alone.

So here she sat, alone on her bed kneading her arm while she brooded over the words Felassan had said: she shouldn’t decide her fate based on her relationship with me.

Tamaris knew he’d been talking about Briala and not about her, but still. Briala was Felassan’s protegée. She was the person he’d known the longest and been the closest to in all the time he’d been awake. For fuck’s sake, he’d gone against the wishes of a man he’d known for thousands of years and had once deeply loved, all for Briala’s sake.

And despite all of that, Felassan still considered his relationship with Briala to be ‘sentimental’. He felt that his relationship with her wasn’t a good enough reason for her to do anything.

Did that mean he didn’t want Tamaris to consider their relationship as an important factor, either? Worse yet, maybe it meant he wasn’t going to consider his relationship with Tamaris when he was making his decisions about what to do next. What if he was planning to go and find Briala, but wasn’t planning to ask Tamaris to come along?

That thought had been curdling in her belly all night. She felt wrongfooted somehow, as though a certainty she’d been assuming was being pulled out from under her. She’d assumed that whatever happened next, she and Felassan would do it together — at the very least because she was helping to curb his outbursts and to control his magic, but primarily because of how she felt about him. Without asking him, without really talking about it, she’d been imagining them travelling together once travelling became necessary, assuming this was just naturally something they would do.

But now, to hear him say that Briala ‘shouldn’t decide her fate based on her relationship with me’... If he didn’t think relationships should be factored into decisions about the future, then how much did Tamaris matter to him, really?

She felt stupid. Humiliated. And of course she should feel stupid, because she was making this same fucking mistake again. She’d fallen in love with Felassan, thought their relationship was really something special — more special than any other relationship she’d had before, how stupid was she – and now he wasn’t even thinking about her in his decisions about what to do next? 

She scowled at the ceiling to ward back the burning feeling in her eyes. Really, it only served her right for putting so much stock into someone she’d known for less than two months. This was what she deserved for acting like a lovestruck romance novel heroine and planning a future around Felassan even though he’d never talked about any kind of future with her. 

She continued to massage her arm for a moment longer, then slid off of the bed and padded over to the dresser. She flipped open the little box of joints on the dresser and reached for one of the deep mushroom-infused joints Felassan had made for her. But before she could pick it up, she paused. 

After a second of thought, she selected one of her own plain elfroot-and-embrium joints instead. If Felassan was planning to leave her behind, then she’d better get re-accustomed to life without him. 

The lump in her throat swelled, and she swallowed hard. She held the joint between her lips, then struck a match on the ridged side of the box and lit the joint before returning to sit cross-legged on the bed. 

She rubbed her shortened arm and smoked her joint and sat there feeling generally shitty and betrayed. A minute later, Felassan opened the door and walked in. 

She shot him a brief glance, then dropped her eyes to her lap. “What are you doing here?” she mumbled around her joint.

“Joining you in bed,” he said as he sat beside her. “Varric left.”

“What about your card game?” she asked.

“It wasn’t the same without your lovely scowl,” he replied.

She scowled and kneaded her arm some more. She was on the verge of telling him she wanted to be left alone, but she already knew he wouldn’t leave without trying to make her talk.

He took the joint from her mouth. “Is your arm hurting?” he asked, and he took a drag from the joint. 

She shook her head and continued to rub it. “Not pain this time. Pins and needles.” 

“‘Pins and needles’,” Felassan said musingly. He pulled from the joint again and released the smoke along with his words. “I’ve always found that to be an odd expression. I far prefer the ancient Elvhen term.”

She didn’t want to talk about this, but it seemed she had no choice. “What’s the ancient Elvhen term?” she said grudgingly.

“Naslahna’miol dur seithe,” he said. “It means ‘ants under the skin’. It’s far more accurate, and with a nice unpleasant visual to match.”

She grunted and continued to massage her stump. Felassan tucked the joint between his lips and reached for her arm. “May I?”

She shirked away. “No,” she said.

His eyebrows rose slightly, and she forced her voice to soften to something less belligerent.  “No thank you. I can massage my own arm.” She gazed vacantly at the opposite wall. 

A moment later, Felassan stood up, and Tamaris watched resentfully as he extinguished the half-smoked joint on the small golden dish on the dresser. He returned to the bed and sat beside her, and a moment later, his hand smoothed over her hair. 

To her horror, a burn of tears surged at the back of her eyes. Don’t you dare fucking cry, she threatened herself, and she glared viciously at the wall to keep the tears at bay. But Felassan’s hand was sliding over the nape of her neck and her shoulder, and when his palm drifted down toward the stump of her arm, a treacherous tear escaped her eye. 

Furious at herself, she bit the inside of her cheek and lifted her eyes to stare at the ceiling. When Felassan’s other hand joined the first to gently squeeze the stump of her arm, she gave in and dropped her right hand to her lap.

He began massaging her arm slowly and firmly, rubbing one thumb against the end of her stump with a soothing circular rub, and Tamaris closed her eyes and tried hard to ignore the swelling ache in her chest. 

“You’re angry at me,” Felassan said quietly. 

Yes, she thought. But how could she explain what she was angry about without admitting how much she cared for him? Because she couldn’t admit that now, not after what he’d said. 

She said nothing, and Felassan went on. “Your silence means I’m right. Not to mention the fact that you weren’t smoking one of the joints I made for you.”

Fucking spy, she thought peevishly. Why did he have to be so good at putting details together?

He was still talking in a soft, thoughtful tone. “What are you angry about, I wonder? It was something I said while we were speaking with Dorian. You started pulling back just before he ended the call.” He tilted his head curiously. “Something about Briala, then?”

“Stop it,” she snapped. 

“Stop what?”

“Treating me like a mark,” she said irritably. “Stop analyzing me!”

“I would love to stop analyzing you,” he said. “Now, if only I had a more direct source of information.” He raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps if you told me what I’ve done wrong?” 

She shot him a dirty look, then gazed at her lap while trying to find the best way to explain this without exposing how horribly vulnerable she felt. “You said…” She licked her dry lips. “You said Briala’s relationship with you shouldn’t matter in what she does next.”

“Yes, I did,” he said. 

Her heart twisted painfully. “So you think that the people in your life shouldn’t matter when you’re deciding what to do?”

He raised his eyebrows, then laughed. “I beg your pardon?”

Her ears heated with anger and humiliation. “If you think Briala shouldn’t consider you in her plans, then that means you wouldn’t consider her in yours, but she was the person you cared about the most for sixteen fucking years. So if  she doesn’t matter, then–” Tamaris broke off. Her feelings were bubbling too close to the surface, and she didn’t dare let them spill from her mouth now, not when she felt so fucking raw.

Felassan quirked an eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly certain you aren’t Briala in disguise.”

She shot him a withering glare. “Obviously not.”

“Then I’m not sure why you think my statement about Briala would apply to you and I,” he said.

“But she’s the most important person to you,” Tamaris said. “In this world, at least.”

“She was, yes,” he said.

Tamaris swallowed hard. “So if you don’t give a fuck about what your most important person does—”

Felassan held up a hand to stop her. “You’re putting words in my mouth, avise. You make it sound as though I tossed her aside, or that I am dismissing my history with her. But the truth is this: I always knew Briala and I would part ways eventually, even before Fen’Harel tasked me with taking control of the eluvians.” He went back to massaging her arm. “Briala was my da’len: my protegée and student. But students should never stay with their teachers forever. There should always come a time when they strike out on their own. Had I remained with Briala, she would never have become the independent force of will that she needed to be in order to mold the Emperor of Orlais the way she did.”

“But what if she’s in trouble now?” Tamaris demanded.

“Even if I was capable of acting, it is not my place to swoop in and rescue her,” Felassan said. “She is perfectly capable of rescuing herself. Once we make contact with her and indicate that there are resources at her disposal, she will make use of them as she sees fit.”

Tamaris studied him for a moment. “You’re really confident about her.”

“Of course I am,” he said. “I was her teacher, after all.”

His lips were quirked mischievously. Tamaris scoffed and looked away. “Cocky,” she muttered.

He chuckled. “In all seriousness, I watched her grow for sixteen years. I know what she can do. She doesn’t need me to carry out her plans.”

Tamaris silently turned his words over in her mind. So… so it was his confidence in Briala’s cleverness that made him say she shouldn’t consider Felassan in her decisions, as well as his status as her teacher. 

That meant that when he’d made that comment about Briala, he really had just meant Briala. He hadn’t been making a veiled reference to Tamaris.

She ran her hand through her hair. “Fenedhis. I’m so… forget I said anything. This was stupid.”

“It was not stupid,” he said. “But I would like to know what made you think what I was talking about us.”

She shrugged and stared at her lap. “I… I don’t know,” she said. And she meant it; she really didn’t know why she’d jumped from ‘Briala can make her own decisions’ to ‘Felassan doesn’t care if I’m around or not’.

His hands were still carefully kneading her arm. His tenderness and patience were so obvious in the careful pressure of his fingers in her skin, and this only made her feel stupider for getting so angry.

She shrugged again, irritated now with herself and not with him. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“I can’t do that,” Felassan said. “Not when you’ve dropped this mystery in my lap. I have to unravel it now.”

“It’s not a mystery,” she muttered. “I was just being… paranoid. Stupid.”

“You are neither paranoid nor stupid,” he said. When he didn’t speak again for a few long seconds, Tamaris shot him a cautious glance. 

His expression was thoughtful. “I think you are understandably wary, given what happened with Fen’Harel,” he said. 

She frowned. “What do you mean? I mean, which part?”

“The part where he left, even though you thought you and he would spend your lives together.”

Her chest seized. Was that really it? Was it really Solas coming back yet again to bite her in the ass?

“You expect betrayal,” Felassan said quietly. “You expect me to leave, even though I’ve shown no signs of wanting to do so.”

Fuck, her eyes were burning. She bit her lips hard and turned her face away, but Felassan released her arm and shifted to sit in front of her on the bed. 

He peered carefully at her. “I can’t fix this with words, Tamaris.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” she snapped.

“I know you aren’t,” he said calmly. “But remember that it will be fixed with time.” He smiled faintly. “Time that you spend being unable to escape my clever remarks and my unshakeable air of ancient wisdom.”

“Why?” she burst out.

“Why what?” he asked.

“Why do you bother?” she demanded. “I’m so fucking pissy. Why are you bothering?”

His expression melted into that tender look that made her heart flip. “Are you asking me to list all of your many irresistible traits?”

She tsked. “No, of course not!”

“I could, if you want,” he said. “But I suspect you’d just call me full of shit if I tried.”

She scowled at him. “Seriously. I’m only going to get worse when we start doing more wolf hunt shit.”

“Worse in what way?”

“More cranky,” she said. “More mean. I was no fun as the Inquisitor, especially toward the end. Dorian said I could be ‘terrifying’.”

“I imagine you were,” Felassan said. “I imagine it was a sight to behold.”

“That’s not a good thing!” she retorted. “It’s — what if — I’ll start being a bitch all the time and being angry and I won’t be fun anymore, and I don’t–” She broke off with a sudden sob. 

She pressed her lips together hard to stop her tears. Then Felassan stroked her hair. “Come here,” he murmured, and he gathered her into his lap. 

Tamaris squinched her face up to stop herself from crying, to no avail; another sob escaped her. “I wish we could just stay here in bed,” she said plaintively. “I’m fucking tired, Felassan. And we haven’t even fucking done anything yet. And I know I must sound like a spoiled brat considering everything you went through for Solas and — gods, you were Tranquil for five years. I should really just shut the fuck up.” She tried to push herself out of his arms.

He tightened his arms around her instead. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t indulge me!” she yelled. “Don’t treat me like I’m special! Everyone’s suffering, okay? Everyone’s tired.” She waved her shortened arm in a vague angry gesture. “Varric’s tired, Dorian’s tired, and no one’s coddling them. I’m not special!” 

“Tamaris,” Felassan said calmly, “shut that lovely mouth of yours and let me hold you.” 

She glared at him. His expression was both sympathetic and implacable, and Tamaris finally slumped against his chest with ill grace. 

He wrapped his arms around her but didn’t speak, and she eventually closed her eyes. She felt exhausted but edgy, like she could sleep for an entire day if only her nerves would calm down enough for her to relax. But her heart felt like it was shivering in her chest, and her left arm was still tingling with discomfort.

She took a slow and measured breath. Felassan’s sleepy-soapy scent filled her lungs, and her heart swelled painfully. It was selfish and spoiled, but she really wished they could have a little bit more time to just be like this. This whole month with him had been like a suspended state of bliss: almost like a crossroads of sorts, a private place-between-places only for herself and Felassan, and she was scared of what would happen when they emerged from this sacred space. She was scared of what she would become when she was forced once again into a role of responsibility. 

You could be quite terrifying. Dorian’s words had not at all been intended to hurt, but Tamaris couldn't help but repeat them in her mind like a malediction. She liked to think this past month had helped her let go of some of that hardness and rage, but if her current mood was any indication, maybe all that ugly isolating anger would come rushing back as soon as she was tasked with something to do. And if she did become hard and angry again, what would Felassan think of her? When she wasn’t soft and relaxed, bumming around and smoking and laughing, would Felassan still want to be with her? 

When she and Felassan were pulled out of the dreamy idyll of this house and back into the ugly reality of the outside world, would he still want her?

She clenched her jaw to hold the tears at bay. This shouldn’t matter this fucking much. She and Felassan hadn’t known each other for long enough for him to mean so much to her, and she couldn’t help but feel pathetic and angry at herself for giving this much of a shit. 

“You’re going to crack your teeth if you don’t relax,” he told her.

She shot him a dirty look, but he ignored her and ran his fingers through her hair. “Speak, Tamaris. Tell me what’s happening in this head of yours.”

She ground her teeth together for a moment longer, then finally spat it out. “You’re going to get sick of me.”

“Impossible,” he said.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I’m going to become a bitch again once I have to start doing things for the Inquis– I mean, for the wolf hunt, and you’re going to get sick of my shit.”

Felassan chuckled.

Stung, Tamaris leaned away from him slightly. “What’s so fucking funny?” she demanded.

“I have a story,” he said.

She scoffed. “Of course you do.”

“Can I tell the story or not?” he said wryly.

“Go ahead,” she said grumpily.

He stroked her hair again. “It’s a story of how I first started experimenting with felandaris,” he said. “Most people see felandaris as a rather unsightly plant, you know. The thorns, the leafless twisting stems: it’s hardly a plant you would find in a cultivated garden, either in my time or yours. But I was immediately interested in it. It’s hardy enough to thrive in precisely those places where the Veil is thin — in other words, the most turbulent places in the world. So I thought to myself: if felandaris thrives in those places, fraught with the snap of magic that is just slightly too far away to reach, what other impressive qualities would this plant hold?” He smoothed his hand slowly along her arm. “So I experimented with it. I ground up the thorns and inhaled them, hence the entertaining hallucinations. I shaved off the thorns and the outer peel and tried chewing on the stalks, which gave me boils on my tongue. I tried various things: drying it and mixing it with other compounds and using it in various ways. And the more I learned, the more I came to appreciate it, because I discovered what felandaris is capable of. It blocks one’s access to the Fade during sleep. It can be used as a poison and as an antidote. In a diluted form, it’s an excellent solvent and can be used to clean rusted armour.” He leaned away to look her in the eye. “Felandaris seems to be an unsightly plant. But I know what it really is. No matter how I might prick myself on its thorns, I know it is far more than thorns and twisting stems. And taking the time to learn its ways is not something I would ever regret.” 

Tamaris could feel her face crumpling. She hid her face in her hand, and Felassan pressed his lips to the crown of her head. 

“You were angry and irritable when we met,” he murmured.

“I know,” she cried. “I was horrible. That’s what–”

Felassan cut her off. “You were also sympathetic and incisive and smart. You were kind and selfless – an excellent listener. You are angry and irritable sometimes, but that’s not all that you are. Don’t insult me by thinking I am unable to see the properties of the plant behind the thorns.”

Tamaris sobbed and buried her face against his chest once more. But this time, she allowed herself to relax into his embrace. He kissed her hair and stroked her arm, and Tamaris hid her face in his shirt until the lump of distress in her chest finally felt like it had melted away.

She sniffed hard, and Felassan patted her knee. “As for wishing we could stay in bed for longer: I agree with you on that.”

She sniffed again. “You do?”

“Of course,” he said. “This is another thing I miss about the olden days. In ancient Elvhenan, it was common to spend months in bed with a lover.”

She scoffed, then offered him a tiny smile. “I saw a memory in the Vir Dirthara about that. Two spirits were having sex in the air for a really long time and someone told them to get a private chamber.”

Felassan laughed. “Ah yes. I was always rather envious of spirits for getting to frolick mid-air like that. It seemed like it would allow for a lot of interesting possibilities.”

Tamaris tilted her head, distracted now by her curiosity. “Have you ever had sex with a spirit?”

“Of course,” Felassan said. “What sort of foolish question is that?”

“It’s not my fault,” she said defensively. “Solas denied it.”

Felassan’s face lit with humour, and Tamaris hastily corrected herself. “Well, he sort of denied it. He refused to answer the question when Thom asked him.”

Felassan laughed again. “Well, I can answer that for you. Of course he had sex with spirits.”

She snorted. “I knew it.”

Felassan nodded. “Spirits make for multifaceted lovers. Particularly as there are many ways to… join with them, for lack of a better word. The way they touch is… well, it is often less about touch and more about feeling. A suggestion of sensation tinted by whatever virtue they embody. If you fostered a very intimate connection with a spirit, they might…” He paused, and a thoughtful frown creased his eyebrows. “In this time, you would call it possession. In my time, it was a consensual and normal sexual act between a corporeal person and a spirit.”

Tamaris looked at him with wide eyes. “Possession was a spirit’s way of having sex?”

“It was one way,” Felassan corrected. “And it could be glorious.” He smiled at her. “But that’s neither here nor there. We’re here now, and I suspect your arm still has ants crawling under the skin.”

She grimaced. “That sounds disgusting.”

“I know,” he said drolly. “Would you like me to keep massaging it?”

She gazed at him seriously. “Honestly, I can do it myself. You don’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to,” he said. “These days, I’m endeavouring to do exactly what I like and nothing more.”

She shot him a chiding smirk, then sighed and gave in. “Okay. That would be nice.” She gave him a sheepish look. “It feels better when you do it.”

“Then I’m particularly happy to help,” he said. He gently shifted her off of his lap and sat on her left side once more, and when he started firmly caressing her arm, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Eventually, one of his hands slid up to her shoulder and began kneading the junction of her shoulder and her neck, and she winced. “Ah,” she groaned.

He softened his grip. “Does that hurt?”

“Yes,” she said. “But in a good way.”

He hummed in agreement. “I feel a good-sized knot here,” he said. His hand slid to her nape, and she sighed in relief when he gently squeezed the back of her neck. 

He tutted and shifted to a kneeling position. “Take your shirt off and lie down. You need a proper massage.” 

She shook her head vaguely. “You don’t have to–”

“Tamaris, lie down,” he said firmly. “I insist.” 

She grumbled as she pulled off her shirt. “Now who’s the bossy one?”

He smirked at her as she stretched out on her belly. “It makes for a refreshing change, doesn’t it?” he said. He placed the heels of his hands on the small of her back on either side of her spine, then slowly pressed his hands up her back, pushing carefully into her body to smooth out the tension along the length of her spine. 

She drew a deep breath, then released it in a languorous sigh as his lovely warm hands slid down her back and up once more. “Fuck,” she groaned, and she rested her cheek on her folded right arm. “That feels amazing.”

“I told you I would do this anytime you wanted,” he said. “I’m slightly offended you never asked.”

“I couldn’t!” she protested.

“Why not?” 

She rolled her eyes. “If I let you do a massage, I would have ended up asking you to fuck me.”

“And that’s something that’s never happened before,” he drawled.

She tutted. “I mean before we started having sex. When I was still being stupid because of Solas. Stupider than now, I mean.”

“Nothing that Solas made you feel is stupid,” Felassan said seriously. “You should stop referring to yourself as such.”

She didn’t reply, feeling humbled by his sober tone. He had a point, after all; it was a bad habit to keep calling her own feelings stupid. But it was such a hard habit to break. 

She sighed again and closed her eyes. Felassan was humming softly to himself as he smoothed his hands over her back, using his knuckles to carefully knead out the knots and rubbing her shoulders and neck carefully with his elegant fingers, and it wasn’t long before Tamaris was floating in a lovely sleepy haze, brokered and fostered by his firm and careful hands. 

His palms moved slowly up the center of her back and slid smoothly over her shoulder blades. As his hands made their way down her back, the tips of his fingers brushed along the sides of her breasts.

A hint of excitement leapt in her belly, but his hands were moving along, sliding back down to her hips and the small of her back. 

It was probably nothing, she thought, and she drew a slow relaxed breath. But when his hands moved down her back again, he grazed the sides of her breasts with his fingers once more.

She swallowed hard. Already her body was starting to jangle with a faint hum of lust, but Felassan had gone back to rubbing out the knots in her back.

She licked her lips, then exhaled slowly to calm herself. Felassan rubbed the heel of his palm in a slow circular motion over her left flank, then her right flank, then he smoothed his palms from the small of her back down to her hips. Then, slowly, the tips of his fingers began to slide around the sides of her hips and beneath her body to caress her hipbones. 

Her breath snagged in her throat. His fingertips were on her hipbones, and it was hardly a stretch to imagine them sliding deeper beneath her, sliding toward the apex of her thighs–

“Be still,” he murmured. “Relax.” He withdrew his hands and placed one hand in the center of her back, then skimmed the other hand up along her side, and Tamaris’s lips parted in anticipation. His fingers were tracing her ribs, moving closer to her breast… 

He caressed the underside of her breast and rolled his thumb gently over her nipple, and she gasped and shifted her hips. 

“Easy, avise,” Felassan said. “Don’t undo all my hard work by getting riled up, now.” 

His voice was soft but curled with laughter, and she burst out a breathless little laugh. “You fucking tease,” she accused, then she gasped again; his thumb was tracing over her nipple in a slow perfect circle, and it felt so damned good. 

She sighed with pleasure and pressed her hips into the bed, and Felassan tsked. “You need to relax,” he said. “Just relax for me like a good girl.”

Fucking smug brat, she thought in amusement. She opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly. “You’re starting this ‘good girl’ shit again?”

Felassan removed his hands from her body and raised his eyebrows. “Are you finished with this massage, then?” 

She tried to give him a dirty look, but it was hard to look forbidding when she was smiling like a horny idiot. “No,” she admitted. “I want you to keep going.” 

“Then lie still and quiet and let me work my non-magical magic,” he said. 

She sighed loudly, then rested her cheek on her arm again, and Felassan ran his fingers through her hair. “Good girl,” he murmured.

His voice was so fucking smooth and smug, and she drank in his words with a combination of exasperation and lust. “There’s no such thing as straightforward fuck with you, is there?” she asked.

His hand went still on her back. “Does that mean you don’t want a massage after all?”

“No,” she blurted. “I mean, yes, I — I want one.”

“You’re going to be still and quiet, then?”

She tsked, but with no real irritation. He always knew exactly how to tease her to get her to comply. “Yes, Felassan,” she drawled. “I’ll be still and quiet like a fucking good girl.”

He laughed — gods, that smug and lilting sound, and the way it pulsed straight to the vee of her thighs… “Excellent,” he said. He splayed his hands on the small of her back once more. 

Tamaris held her breath; his palms were sliding lower now, down over the curves of her bottom. When he gently squeezed the curves of her ass, she gasped and involuntarily flexed her hips. 

He hooked one finger into the waistband of her leggings and tugged. “I’m going to take these off so I can massage your legs.”

“My legs, huh?” she taunted breathlessly. “Not my butt?”

His hands left her body, and she arched her spine with a whine. “Felassan, come on…”

He said nothing and did nothing, and Tamaris finally opened her eyes to glare at him. He was watching her with an expectant look on his face. 

She sighed irritably and forced herself to lie still. “There,” she said snarkily. “Are you happy now?”

He raised his eyebrows, and she pressed her lips together to force back any further pleas or taunts. A few long, tense seconds later, he smiled very faintly. “Good girl,” he said.

His voice was a low and carnal-sounding purr, and it sent a shiver of heat down her spine. But instead of reacting, Tamaris closed her eyes. 

Felassan chuckled. “Ah, a very good girl. Lift your hips so I can take off your leggings.”

She lifted her hips slightly. Then his fingers were curving into the waistband of her leggings and her smallclothes and pulling them down. 

She arched her spine and parted her legs slightly, ostensibly to help him get her clothing off, but also in the vindictive hope of making him lose a little of his composure. She could already feel the heated moisture collecting between her legs, and when he exhaled sharply, she couldn’t help but smile. 

He chuckled softly. “Minx,” he accused.

No I’m not. I’m a good girl, she thought cheekily. But she didn’t dare say that, or he’d take his hands off of her naked body. And Creators, the way his hands were moving over her body… 

They were gliding up over the backs of her legs, his thumbs tracing the inner margins of her thighs, and Tamaris bit her lip hard to stop herself from parting her legs to welcome his touch. He palmed the curves of her butt, squeezing gently and smoothing his palms over her skin in a gentle caress, and she exhaled slowly in bliss as Felassan stroked her. His hands cradled her hips before sliding up along her waist, and when he cupped her breasts and lightly thumbed her nipples, she inhaled sharply through her nose to resist the urge to moan. 

He chuckled again, and the smug and heated sound almost made her arch her spine. “You’re being very good,” he murmured. “Staying quiet and still like this so I can focus.” He drew his fingers firmly down the center of her back, then rested one hand on the back of her thigh. 

Then he slipped his fingers through the slickness at the very inner edge of her thighs. 

By pure instinct, she jerked her hips. Felassan’s hands disappeared once more, and Tamaris gasped and arched her spine. “Fuck,” she whined.

He tutted. “Tamaris, Tamaris. I can’t massage you properly when you’re moving so much.” 

She whimpered once more, then tried to force herself to relax on the bed, but it was so fucking difficult. The more she tried to lie still, the more aroused and desperate she seemed to get, and by the time she was lying flat on her belly again in some semblance of calm, her heart was pulsing so firmly in her throat and between her legs that she could hardly focus on anything else. 

She gripped the sheets in her right hand and rested her temple on her forearm. Then Felassan spoke again. “Are you calm now?” 

She nodded silently.

“Are you ready to be touched again?”

She nodded again.

“Good girl,” Felassan crooned. Then he stroked her slick sex with the tips of his fingers. 

Her fist clenched in the sheets, and she bit her lips hard. His touch was gentle, so infinitely light and gentle that it made her want to scream or threaten him or beg, but she didn’t dare; she couldn’t make a sound and she couldn’t move. All she could do was lie on her belly and suffer the pounding pulse of need that his teasing fingers were coaxing to life between her legs.  

His other hand curved over the back of her thigh and gently pulled her legs apart, and her blood pulsed with anticipation. When Felassan rolled the pad of his finger over her clit, her mouth dropped open with the instinctive desire to moan. 

But she didn’t make a sound. While Felassan gently petted her swollen clit, she could feel her face twisting with pleasure and her fingers tensing so firmly in the sheets that they hurt, but she forced herself not to move or make a sound. 

When the building buzz of pleasure between her legs started to become unbearable, Felassan spoke again. “Hmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I think the tension is all rubbed out of your back now. Roll over so I can work on your front.”

Her belly leapt with anticipation. “My front?” she said stupidly. 

“Yes, your front,” he said in amusement. “Roll over, avise. And remember, you have to stay very still.”

She smirked and shook her head. Fucking menace, she thought, but she rolled onto her back all the same. She tucked her right arm beneath her head and looked at him, and a fresh bolt of desire rippled through her body.

The curl of his lips was casual and sly, but the rest of his body gave him away. His violet eyes were glowing as they moved greedily over her body, and his cock was a visible ridge pushing at the fabric of his breeches. He might be acting as though he was cool and composed, but he was obviously just as riled up as she.

His eyes slowly moved up to her face, and his smirk widened slightly. “You look very tense,” he said. “I wonder if there’s something I can do about that.” 

She smiled — he was being so cheeky that she couldn’t help it — but she didn’t speak or move.

Felassan chuckled, then curved his hands over her hips and began slowly sliding his hands up over her torso. His palms glided up over her ribs, then slid smoothly over her breasts, and she stared ardently at his beautiful face as he caressed her. He looked content and focused and wicked all at once, his lambent eyes following the path of his hands as they cradled her breasts, and when one of his hands slid higher still to curl around her throat, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes in bliss. 

Felassan stroked her jawline with one thumb and her hardened little nipple with the other, and Tamaris forced herself not to arch into his touch the way she desperately wanted to. He caressed her breast firmly, molding his palm over the swell of her flesh before sweeping his thumb over the peak, and she chewed her lip and used every ounce of her self-control not to move despite the pounding eagerness between her legs. 

He released her throat and slid his hand down her sternum, and his other hand followed as well, gliding smoothly over the bowl of her belly down toward her pelvis. When the heel of his hand slid lower still to cup her sex, she twitched.

His hands stopped. “Was that a movement, Tamaris?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head very slightly. To her enormous relief, he resumed the movement of his hands. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Stay very still, now.” One of his hands began gliding back up her body toward her breast, but the other one drifted lower between her legs. 

With two fingers, he stroked her slick and swollen folds, and Tamaris clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out. He was caressing her slippery folds with a slow firm rhythm while his other hand smoothed up toward her breast, and she waited tensely for his fingers to glide over her nipple — closer, closer now, over tender curve beneath her breast, oh please he was almost there—

His hand slid back down her body instead of stroking her nipple. Meanwhile, one finger of his other hand dipped very slightly into her entrance, and Tamaris couldn’t help herself. Frustrated and desperate, she twisted her hips and mewled. “Felassan…”

He sighed and lifted his hands. “Tamaris, I need you to relax for me.”

“I can’t,” she begged. 

“You have to,” he insisted. “You have to stay very still and quiet while I massage you, or I won’t be able to fuck you after.” 

She gasped and lifted her hips again at his sweet blunt words, and her desperation only surged higher as he continued to talk. “You do want me to fill you up, don’t you? You want me to fuck you?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, and Felassan went on. “Then you’re going to lie still and quiet for me?”

She nodded furiously and forced herself to settle. When Felassan spoke again, his voice was like cream. “Good girl,” he purred, and he slid one finger inside of her. 

Her jaw dropped open on a silent cry of pleasure, and she dug her nails into the back of her own neck. Felassan curled his finger inside of her and smoothed his hand up toward her breast without touching her nipple, and Tamaris lay still on the bed, her entire body jumping with tension at the strain of not moving in time with his torturous teasing hands. 

He chuckled, and the sound alone almost broke her. “I’m impressed,” he said casually. “Look at you lying so still while I feel your heat from the inside. You must really be hoping for me to fill you up.” He curled his finger slowly and lightly pinched her nipple, and Tamaris clenched her teeth and dug her nails hard into the back of her scalp, unable to release her cries of pleasure without risking the abandonment of his hands. 

He petted her nipple, then smoothed his palm down over her belly once more. “Since you’ve been so good, I’ll make an exception for you. When I slide my tongue between your legs, I’ll let you make a sound.” 

She nodded furiously — whether at the promise of his tongue or the allowance that she could release some of the rapture building in her chest, she couldn’t quite decide — but it seemed to be good enough for Felassan: a heartbeat later, she felt the distinct divine heat and pressure of his mouth between her legs. 

He stroked her slowly and sweetly with his tongue. She moaned loudly and lifted her hips toward him, and his hands and mouth left her.

Tamaris cried out in frustration. “Felassan, please!”

His hand gently encircled her throat, and she gasped convulsively with excitement. He stroked her neck, and when he spoke again, his voice was laced with that feral little growl that she loved. “I said you could make a sound, Tamaris. I didn’t say you could move.” 

“Okay,” she blurted. “Okay, I won’t move.”

“You’ll stay still for me?” he said. “Even when I make you come on my tongue, you’ll stay nice and still?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake!” she cried. “I’ll stay still, just touch me!”

He huffed in amusement and brushed his thumb over her lips. “You and your fiery tongue. I hope I won’t regret letting you speak.” He pushed her legs apart, then lowered his mouth between her legs and treated her to a hot opened-mouthed kiss. 

She moaned and clenched her nails into her scalp once more, but she forced herself to stay perfectly still as he laved her slick folds with long sweeping strokes of his tongue. The tip of his tongue swept up along the length of her cleft to swirl delicately around her clit, and through the delirious rising of her pleasure, she realized he was caressing her pussy with the same thorough attention he’d given to the rest of her body: licking her firmly as though to feel every delicate fold of her flesh, treating the tiny nub of her clit with special attention in order to lessen her tension… no, that was wrong. He was heightening her tension, making the pressure and pleasure build and rise between her legs with every delicate swirl of his tongue. She was desperately grateful he’d allowed her to make a sound, because her breaths were coming in short sharp gasps as the pleasure pulsed higher, and she didn’t think she’d be able to take this peak in silence…

He lifted his mouth. “Come for me, Tamaris,” he said coaxingly. “Come for me like a good girl.” 

She gasped — fuck, his gorgeous teasing words — then Felassan lapped delicately at her clit, and she came apart with a helpless cry.

He made a satisfied little growling noise and continued kissing and caressing her with his mouth, and Tamaris lay beneath him mewling helplessly as the pleasure crashed through her body in dizzying waves that reached all the way through the stump of her arm and down to her toes. 

He lapped slowly at her pussy to bring her down from her peak, then dropped a tiny kiss between her legs before lifting his face to smile at her. “I knew you liked it.”

“Which part?” she panted. 

“Being called a good girl,” he said complacently. 

She burst out laughing. “You are such an ass,” she scolded. “A smug, cocky, teasing ass.”

He laughed as well. “I wouldn’t tease if you didn’t like it. But I’ll compromise and let you decide what happens next.” 

“Sit back, then,” she said. She pushed herself upright. “I want to ride you.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I know I’m from Elvhenan, but I’m not a halla.”

She grinned and shuffled toward him on her knees. “Shut up and take off your clothes,” she said.

He smiled cheekily, then slid off of the bed and quickly shucked his clothes, and Tamaris watched eagerly as his temptingly hard cock sprang free from his breeches. He crawled back onto the bed to join her, and Tamaris immediately settled herself on his lap. 

She gripped his shoulder for support and slid her slick cleft along the length of his cock, and Felassan exhaled a gorgeous groan. “Mm. I think you might just be ready for me.”

She let out a throaty little laugh as she rocked against him. “I might be. Just barely.” She rested the stump of her arm on his other shoulder and reached down to adjust him, then positioned herself right over the head of his cock, perfectly poised and ready to take him deep.

He gripped her hip and pulled, but Tamaris refused to budge. Instead, she dipped her head toward his ear and traced her tongue along the point of his ear. 

He gasped and jerked his hips. He tilted his head to the side in a silent plea, and Tamaris pulled gently at his earlobe with her lips, then kissed the angle of his jaw and his neck before running the tip of her tongue gently along the tendon in his neck. 

He sighed and smoothed his hand up along her back. “Veraisa,” he breathed. 

“It’s only fair,” she retorted. She lapped at his neck again, then left a tiny kiss and a tiny little bite just below his ear.

His fingers clenched on her back. She continued to lick and nip his neck, and it wasn’t long before he was rocking his hips up and trying to pull her down onto his cock. 

But Tamaris didn’t move. She stayed poised over his lap with the tip of his cock dipping ever-so-slightly into her entrance, and she ignored the lifting of his hips and the teasing pressure of his cock as she trailed her mouth from his ear down to the base of his neck.

“Tamaris,” he begged, and he tried to thrust toward her. “You’re killing me.”

I know, she thought. She knew exactly how much he liked being teased in this way — and this, of course, was the point. More than anything, more than his cock filling her up or his mouth between her legs or anything else, Tamaris wanted to make Felassan feel as good as she felt right now. He was a generous and intuitive lover, giving her exactly what she wanted even if she hadn’t realized she wanted it, and what she wanted right now was to make him feel even a fraction as satisfied as she was.

He moaned and dug his fingers into her hip, and the desperate sound of his desire made all of her inner muscles clench. But she kept herself poised as she began suckling at his neck more firmly than before. 

He drew a shaky breath and moaned again. “Tamaris, please…” 

Without warning, she took him all the way down to the hilt. 

He jerked and cried out, and Tamaris gasped with bliss. That first stroke, the first ecstatic moment when their bodies came together and he filled her up completely just like he always promised he would: it always felt perfect, so well-fitting and so fucking good, and for a few seconds, she just rested on his lap with their bodies flush together and savoured the needy sound of his breath. 

His hand slid from her hip to her buttock. “Come, avise,” he panted. “Ride me like you threatened to do.”

She nodded and rolled her hips toward him. “Do you want me fast or slow?” she breathed. 

“Slow,” he said immediately. “Slowly so I can feel you, ah…” He moaned again and gripped her ass. “Venirast’edhas.” 

She smiled. Even with her poor grasp of Elvhen, she knew what he’d said this time. 

She lifted her hips and lowered herself slowly onto his cock, then brushed her lips over his ear. “I think your cock is perfect, too,” she murmured. 

He burst out a little groan-laugh. “Oh good. We’re well-matched, then.” He lifted his hips toward her, and when she nibbled his earlobe gently, he moaned again. 

“Tell me before you come,” she whispered. 

“As though you won’t know,” he gasped. 

She smiled against his ear. “Tell me anyway.” 

He nodded and curled his hips toward her, and Tamaris watched and listened to him carefully, grinding and rolling her hips to take him deep and savouring the sounds of his pleasure as much as she savoured the completion of his cock deep inside of her body. 

He gasped more sharply than before. A few moments later, he squeezed her buttock. “I’m going to come,” he blurted. “Tamaris, I—” 

She suddenly lifted herself off of his cock entirely. His eyes flew open on a gasp, and he burst out a slightly hysterical-sounding little laugh. “Oh no. You’re not doing this to me,” he moaned. 

She laughed as well and stroked his neck. “Don’t complain. You like it.”

He grinned at her and released a long and shaky exhale, and Tamaris admired the brilliant glow of his violet eyes before taking his lips in a kiss. He thrust his tongue hungrily into her mouth, and Tamaris happily accepted the aggressive heat of his kiss until he drew away. 

He exhaled once more. “All right. Ride me again. I’m ready.”

She positioned herself, then kissed his cheekbone before lowering her lips to his ear. “Good boy,” she whispered. 

He burst out a laugh, then cried out as Tamaris came down hard onto his cock. She gripped his shoulder and rode him slightly faster than before, breathing hard herself as the sweet friction of his cock drove deep inside of her. When his hips began jerking more erratically and his face twisted with his impending peak, she lifted her hips and abandoned his cock yet again. 

This time, the sound that burst from his lips was a divine mixture of a sob and a laugh and a frustrated groan. “Ar dina’re rosa’sa’din inor ma,” he moaned. 

She smoothed a bead of sweat away from his forehead. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me come,” he said. 

She huffed in amusement. “You and your fucking deals.” 

“Please,” he begged, and he stroked her back. “Please, avise, have mercy.” 

She dipped her head to the side and licked his neck, and he groaned and restlessly twisted his hips. “I asked for mercy, not more torture,” he complained.

She hummed happily against his neck. “I haven’t decided if I’m feeling merciful yet,” she teased. “You’ll just have to see.” She adjusted herself on his lap and came down on his cock once more. 

Felassan’s feral cry lit a thrill beneath her skin, and she fucked him harder and faster than before. He pulled her into a kiss and dug his nails into her back and gasped into her mouth, and this time when he whimpered and tensed and fisted his hand in her hair, Tamaris finally allowed him to come. 

He jolted and let out a guttural groan of climax, and as Tamaris studied the rapture in his beautiful face, she wished she could bottle the glorious sound of his pleasure and hoard it away to listen to whenever she wanted.

Felassan shuddered and dropped his sweat-laced forehead against her chest, and she stroked his hair and neck until his body stilled. A few peaceful moments later, he lifted his head and gave her a tired smile. “‘I would die to come inside of you’. That’s what I said before.”

She laughed. “You’re so fucking dramatic.” 

“It was worth it,” he said, and he playfully patted her butt. “Now come. Unmount me.”

She smirked and slid off of his lap. A minute later, they were stretched out facing each other on the bed with their legs twined in an affectionate tangle of limbs. 

She smiled goofily at him. He returned her smile, but when he spoke, his words weren’t what she expected. 

“The Inquisition is over, you know,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. “I know. I’m the one who ended it.” She ruefully quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry for spoiling This Shit Is Weird.”

He smiled faintly, but his eyes remained serious. “What I mean is that the wolf hunt is not the Inquisition. You’re not in charge of this.”

She sobered at the seriousness of his tone. “I know that.”

“Do you?” he said.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You talk about the wolf hunt as though you’re being asked to lead it,” he said. “But neither Varric nor Dorian asked you to resume that role. Cassandra never mentioned it either, from what I recall.”

“I know,” she said, a bit tensely.

Felassan pressed on as though she hadn’t spoken. “It is not your sole responsibility to decide how to stop Fen’Harel’s plans. You’re not the one making the decisions.”

“I know, okay? I know that,” she said irritably. “But you’re the one who said I’m the most dangerous person against Solas. If that’s the case, then I have no choice but to do whatever’s the most useful.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. You, the woman who told me that I’m more than a weapon or a tool?”

“But that’s different…” She trailed off mid-protest; Felassan was giving her a reproving look.

“Your history makes you a particular danger to Fen’Harel,” Felassan said. “But that doesn’t mean you should be in charge of the efforts against him. Being the one with the biggest weapon doesn't mean you alone should decide how that weapon is used.”

She gazed pensively at him for a moment. In truth, he wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t secretly thought to herself many times before. “Who do you think should decide, then?” she finally said. “Varric has been doing a good job.” Then she tsked. “Ah, but he’s the Viscount here, and that’s a job and a half already…”

“Why should one person be in charge?” Felassan said.

She raised her eyebrows. She was genuinely surprised to hear him say this. “You think the responsibility should be shared?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

She stared at him in genuine bemusement, and the corners of his lips curled in a small smile. “Have I stunned you speechless?” he said.

“No,” she said blankly. “I just… Solas said the opposite. He said power shouldn’t be shared because individuals can give it up, but groups can’t.”

Felassan’s smile faded somewhat, and he sighed. “His perspective is… understandable, but inflexible. Alternate approaches might better serve the wolf hunt.” Then he shrugged. “But it’s not up to me to say. Or up to you, which should be a comfort. It should be freeing, really.” He tapped her bare hip. “You’re just one cog in the machine now, as the dwarves would say.”

She frowned. “But we still have to play a role.”

“Oh, we will,” he said. 

She stared at him, thrown off by how casual he sounded. “I mean it. We have to do something major to help. Especially since we’ve just been sitting here for a month.”

“We will, avise,” he assured her. “Don’t worry your pretty head.”

She chewed her lip as she mulled over her final worry – one she hadn’t yet expressed to Felassan. “What if wolf hunt business means we have to be separated?” she asked.

He let out a tiny laugh. “We won’t be separated.”

He sounded completely certain, which only made her all the more nonplussed. “But… but if you’re going to stay here for a while to translate Varric’s texts, and I might be needed elsewhere to–”

He interrupted her. “If you’re going somewhere, I shall be going too.”

Her heart flipped. “But what if it’s dangerous? Your magic is getting better, but it’s still not what it was before. Not yet, at least.”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Do you want me to travel with you or not?”

Of course I do, she thought. “Yes, b-but that’s not the point–”

“Good,” he said. “Then it’s settled. When the time comes for you to leave this house, I will be leaving with you.”

Her heart burst into a gallop at this. He sounded so certain. How was he so certain? He was really that certain that he wanted to stay with her? “It’s not that simple,” she protested. “What if it’s better for us to do something apart?”

“In what possible situation is it better for us to be apart?” he said in amusement.

“I… I don’t know,” she said blankly. “If we need two bodies in two different places at once to, I don’t know, follow leads or something…” She trailed off and shot him an annoyed look; he was smiling at her like one might smile at a particularly charming but foolish child.

She scowled. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

He reached out and ran his hand affectionately over her hair. “I have lived for thousands of years,” he said. “I’ve been largely alone for the last twenty-five of them, and it hasn’t been particularly fun. I am not alone now, and I am having a very good time being not-alone with you. So no: nobody will be telling me to do anything that does not involve being with you. I’ll travel with you as I please, and if there is some ultimate goal that needs to be met by one of us, we will get there together eventually.” He stroked her hair again. “They can wait for us.”

She gazed at him with a fluttering heart, torn between exasperation and adoration and gratitude. “You’re such an arrogant immortal.”

He pressed his hand to his chest in a mocking gesture of hurt. “You wound me, avise.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “There might not be time for them to just wait for us. We short-lived shems don’t have the luxury of thousands of years anymore, you know.”

“All the more reason for us to savour the time we have by spending it together,” he said.

Her heart squeezed again. She shuffled closer to him and stroked his chest. “So you’re just going to do exactly what you want without giving a fuck what other people say?”

“Is that not what you’ve been encouraging me to do all this time?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “Shit. You’re right. I have been saying that.” She blurted a little laugh. “You’re right.”

He sighed contentedly and ran his palm in a soothing caress over her hip. “It’s always gratifying to have one’s correctness acknowledged.”

She smiled at him wordlessly. She knew he was expecting a snappy retort, but she was feeling far too content to think of something clever to say. 

Felassan wanted to stay with her. Even when they joined the wolf hunt in earnest, even if she turned into a cranky no-nonsense prickly-like-felandaris bitch, he said he still wanted her. 

And against all odds, Tamaris believed him.

He raised an eyebrow. “What, no clever comeback for me? That’s disappointing.”

I love you, she thought. She tweaked his ear. “No comeback today,” she said softly. Then she smiled. “You fucked the words out of me.”

He laughed: that beautiful rolling laugh that Tamaris would never get sick of hearing. He rolled her onto her back and cradled her face in his hands. “You are a minx,” he scolded. “A terrible, loveable minx.”

Her heart leapt at his words. But his lips were brushing over hers and coaxing them apart, and then his tongue was delicately stroking her own, and in a matter of seconds, Tamaris lost interest in any further words. 

She curled her arm around his neck and kissed him back. He slid his fingers into her hair and settled himself cozily between her legs, and for the rest of that lazy and languorous night, Felassan and Tamaris didn’t bother with any further words. 

[bloody-oath]

What would go down at a slasher slumber party (slashers of your choosing, though selfishly hope you'll include Bubba, of course)? I'm thinkin' either a collage-age frat party, or else a childhood or awkward adolescent sleepover at somebody's house, lol. ^_^

I’ll do all three types! It would be a sin to leave Bubba out… When in doubt though, stick to the main four!

**Mild self-harm and animal abuse mentions (Stage 2: Freddy – 3, Stage 3: Jason – 3)**

Stage 1: Childhood Slumber Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Has been at the party for 0.5 seconds and already misses his mother. If he can speak, he accidentally calls the host’s parent ‘mum.’ Didn’t even notice it until Freddy felt it was his duty to almost piss his pants laughing over it and made sure everyone else in the room heard it too.

⋆ Enjoys playing with Bubba the most. Shares his snacks with the Texan boy and makes an E for effort macaroni-and-string best friends bracelet. He was somewhat disappointed when Bubba ate his friendship offering though. Demotes his companion to ‘very good friend’ status.

⋆ Brought teddy along but only takes him out when the lights are turned off at bedtime, so no one notices. Sleeps soundly, but he’s devasted when he wakes up to find his pal’s fur shredded. Doesn’t hesitate to wail on a suddenly disturbed, half-awake, arms-flailing Frederick, all the while Michael pretends to rest with the tiniest visibility of a smirk present and a stolen vegetable knife under his pillow.

Michael Myers

⋆ Possesses the biggest urge to peek into the rooms he’s not allowed into, such as the off-bounds adult bedroom. Will randomly disappear during mid-playtime and sneak in anyway though. Doesn’t steal anything, just removes family photos from frames and rips them in half.

⋆ Likes to play dress up. Doesn’t pretend to be a character or act differently. Simply enjoys disguising his identity. Will stay in the costume until it’s time to go home. Might go home with it too though. Chooses not to interact with the others much. Silently judges them. Thinks Freddy is a bit of a twat.

⋆ Pays close attention when the twat starts sharing ghost stories though. Loves them, not frightened. Plans to scare everyone when it’s time for bed. Does so and makes a scared shitless Bubba cry. Didn’t expect such an exaggerated consequence but enjoys seeing him suffer. Has good dreams that night.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ He didn’t bring a toy to the party, but like hell he’ll be leaving without one. Keeps an eye out for anything good enough to permanently borrow. Stuffs his pockets with sweets to take home since junk food is forbidden at his house.

⋆ Cheats at every game he participates in. Asks everyone to tell him a secret about themselves but no one trusts him. Experiences a serious sugar high and becomes wildly fidgety. Challenges Bubba to a wrestling match and begins to lose until he plays dirty and bites his opponent. Whines when he gets sat on for his dismal sportsmanship.

⋆ Was outside and somehow managed to catch a rat with his bare hands. Breaks the critter’s neck and brings the dead rodent inside to show his buddies what he accomplished. Everyone reacts badly, except Michael who nonchalantly claps, impressed.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Takes him a while to feel comfortable around the others. Has a particular liking for Jason and asks the quiet boy if he’d like to play Tick-Tack-Tooth. Isn’t sure about Michael and watches him from a distance. Has already had enough of Freddy and covertly hopes he has a hazardous mishap and needs to be sent home.

⋆ Relishes having a break from his annoying brothers. Gains a huge stomach-ache from wolfing down on too many lollies. Spends the next hour groaning on his back with much regret. Pouts at the menace for suggesting the others should tie him up and suspend him in the air as a makeshift piñata. Goes back to munching on confectionary as soon as he begins to feel better. Might learn his lesson after the fourth time.

⋆ Excels in the arts and crafts fun. Creates masks for everyone to wear. Can’t wait to show his family what he’s made all by himself. Especially adores using the face paint. Clumsily knocks over a pot of dye and damages the carpet. Freaks the fuck out because he knows what happens if he ruins anything at home. Squints, trembles and braces himself for the belting. Everyone else just stares.

Stage 2: Awkward Adolescent Sleepover

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Still misses his mother and feels even less confident to socialise. Was the tallest as a kid and still is. Feels marginally proud to retain that achievement. Didn’t want to run into Freddy again but he’s glad he can at least hang out with Bubba. Wondered who was behind the white mask and later realised it was ‘that kid’ he knew from childhood. Forgot Michael’s name.

⋆ Brought some homemade cookies he and Pamela baked together and could honestly smack a shrimp bitch when Freddy disposes of them in the bin. Coolly composes himself. Kind of wants to exhibit his amateur muscles and use his superior strength on the asshole though. Shows Bubba he’s been building up and behaves timidly when his old chum praises him for his efforts.

⋆ Glad no one tried to sneak in any intoxicating beverages or street medicine. Wonders if he’s being too optimistic but genuinely sees his allies having bright futures. Moderately worried about that Michael boy though. Spends the rest of the evening following everyone else’s lead. Got a headache after listening to Freddy talk so much shit and can’t sleep with Bubba snoring like a freight train.

Michael Myers

⋆ Hates being dragged along to another wretched sleepover. Noticed Freddy grew about an inch taller. Throws shade the entire time. Tries to escape the premises but changes his mind when he hears a scary movie being played in the video player. Thoroughly enjoys watching the violent scenes and mentally takes a few notes.

⋆ Teaches the squad how to make a rope noose. Encourages everyone to put it around their necks to make sure they fit. Isn’t being suspicious at all. Brought his knife collection to the gathering and flaunts his favourite daggers. Points out which blades he’s specifically going to use to slaughter each one of them. No one takes him seriously.

⋆ Figures this reunion really does suck and makes a second attempt to leg it out. Couldn’t care less about catching up, hearing how their dreary lives have been or chatting about gross women. Literally gives everyone the middle finger salute and departs. Raids a fast food joint on his way home.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to compare dick sizes with everyone else. Feels humiliated and provoked when he finds out he has the shortest penis. Swears he’ll be the first to lose his virginity though. Goes into great detail about what his sexual desires are and the porn videos he’s seen that influenced the said fetishes.

⋆ His voice begins to break halfway through telling a joke and he goes from talking nonstop to suddenly being speechless. Wonders if tonight is going to get any worse. Exits the room to practice hiding the squeak when he speaks and re-joins the gang with an abnormal, obviously fake Elvis Presley tone.

⋆ Expresses how he has the urge to hurt himself and others, including the innocent. Says the cravings are becoming harder to resist to older he gets. Adds he’s been experiencing powerful fits of anger and battles to control it. No one acts surprised. Casually changes the subject to masturbation.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Found a vintage glamour magazine from Grandpa’s hidden stash and brings the subtly raunchy publication to the sleepover to share with the boys. Becomes aroused a little too easy just by examining the front cover and desperately tries to hide his first-ever erection. Confused and scared.

⋆ Gives a sigh of relief when he goes back to being flaccid. Apprehensively thinks of an excuse to say regarding why he took so long in the bathroom when he reappears in the group. Doesn’t have to use it because no one noticed he even left. Avoids partaking in any lewd discussions or naughty centrefold viewing. Fearful of that accident happening again.

⋆ Doesn’t waver to show off his newly grown body hair though. High-key delighted by his pelt. Compares his super hairy arms to Freddy’s non-existent fuzz and breaks into a chuckling fit. Feels a bit hurt when the shorty points out he’s only getting fatter and uglier though. Never deemed himself to have self-confidence issues until now. Appreciated Jason and Michael playing keepings-off with the bully’s stupid hat.

Stage 3: College Frat Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Avoids consuming any alcohol because he knows better. Also denies any offered drugs. Straight up shoved a hoe to the ground when they sloppily asked if he wanted to have some dirty fun. Hates how the party has started but tries to enjoy himself. Ends up hanging out with the stray cat who sometimes chills out on the fire escape.

⋆ Acts as a caretaker and monitors his highly intoxicated buddies. Openly judges them. Tries to have his own little celebration by eating the leftover pizza in the fridge and watching prime time infomercials on the telly. Began to loosen up until Freddy willingly broke the flatscreen and went on to say he can provide better entertainment. Not amused in the slightest by witnessing his frenemy lighting his farts on fire.

⋆ Needs an aspirin and exits the room to get some fresh air and visits his feline acquaintance again. Incredibly disturbed when he finds a hammered Bubba trying to stretch the cat’s skinned face over his own. Feels betrayed and just wants this night to end. Wonders what it would be like to taste alcohol though and pours a single drop of it onto his tongue. Immediately spits it out. Knows this wouldn’t have happened if his mother was here. Acts mopey and continues to miss her.

Michael Myers

⋆ Has no interest in alcohol consumption but doesn’t hesitate to inject heroin in his veins from a used needle he found discarded on the ground. Arrives at the festive dormitory and busts down the door. Extremely hyped and aggravated. Uses said broken wood to go surfing down the emergency exit spiral stairwell. Severely wipes out towards the end of the ride.

⋆ Wants to fight everyone he sees and proceeds to do so. Finally appears back at the party with bloodied fists and two syringes poking out of his arms. Becomes confronted by a worried, sober Jason and gets his ass served to a beanbag for calming down purposes. Thought the pouf looked at him funny and foam pellets go flying.

⋆ Passes out in a bathtub full of vomit, not of his own, and wakes up hours later naked on the roof with now seven needles inserted. Can’t decide if he’s still alive or dead. Spends the rest of the night presuming he’s an invisible ghost. Trolls immensely.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to play beer pong and won’t stop talking about beer pong until at least one person plays beer pong with him. No one does though, so he faces the table against the wall and verses himself. Gets totally wasted and needs to repetitively inform everyone just how drunk he is.

⋆ Fails to hook up with someone and pursues to suck his own cock. Thinks he does a better job at it anyway. Proposes free pony rides to all the chicks attending the party but results in scaring them further away. Bubba excitedly raises his hand though and frantically searches the dorm for his cowboy hat. Speedily withdraws the offer and explains there isn’t a horse involved. Back to drinking.

⋆ Makes the mistake of walking past a body-length mirror and gets a horrifying glimpse of his reflection. Too wasted to realise that’s how he always looks like and starts to freak out. Yells why no one thought to take him to the hospital because maybe the doctors could have saved him. Just sits ugly-crying in front of the mirror with one hand on the glass and a can of beer in the other. Suddenly perks up when someone asks for volunteers to help steal the opposing frat house’s pet pig though.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Overwhelmed. Only has a sip of alcohol, then chugs the rest of the bottle dry. Was going to pace himself but ends up driving the porcelain bus an hour into the party. Wants to laugh, cry, shit, spew, scream and dance all at the same time. Succeeds.

⋆ Can’t get enough of the booze but stays clear of the flying pink elephant inducing pills. By far the most trashed and happiest person in the room. Turns the stereo up to its maximum volume and blabbers about how every song it plays is his favourite song. Very footloose. Starts a conga line and happens to be both at the beginning and end of it because no one else joined in.

⋆ Removes his sweaty shirt and uses it to do the helicopter. Hurls it onto a poor, unexpecting person’s head. Pours bottles of liquor over his bare torso and warily squeals when he feels the fluid seep down his pants, into his crack. Goes on to remove the rest of his clothing and embarks streaking through the sprinklers on the front lawn of the college. Has multiple school officers chasing after him.

[princesssarisa]

10 facts about Shana and her mother Darika. Plus the full OC interview with each of them :)

Here they are! Shanna, the “Beauty” of my wlw Beauty and the Beast retelling (which still lacks a definitive title, though I intend it to include the word “rose”), and Darika, her mother.

Shanna 10 facts 1. She is 14 years old during the story’s prologue, 17 when the main plot starts, and 19 by the end.

2. My facecast for her is the late Israeli singer Ofra Haza (best known to some of us for providing the voice of Moses’s mother Yocheved in The Prince of Egypt) when she was very young.

3. She’s mixed race. Her mother’s ancestors were white pseudo-Europeans, while her father’s came from a Middle Eastern-inspired culture. Both practiced the same Judaism- and Shamanism-inspired religion, though. She’s her world’s equivalent of a Jewish person who’s half Ashkenazi, half Mizrahi.

4. Her name is partly a variant of the Yiddish “Shaina,” meaning “beautiful,” and partly an abbreviation of the Hebrew “Shoshanna,” meaning “lily” or, more significantly, “rose.” It has nothing to do with the Hebrew “shana,” meaning “year” – they’re just almost-homonyms.

5. Unlike most traditional Beauty and the Beast Beauties, she’s the eldest of three sisters, not the youngest. Her two sisters aren’t wicked, but they are a bit of a handful because they’re so young, and she’s had to be their responsible caretaker. She plays that role well – her little sister Zuri sooner calls for her than for their mother when she needs help – but it’s kept her from fully exploring her own potential, which she finally does get to explore during her time with Liriel, the lady beast.

6. Her personality is very much like Disney’s original animated Belle: bookish, sweet, emotional, full of dreams, yet intelligent and strong willed too. She’s more socially awkward than Belle, though, and unfortunately, she also has the self-doubt of Robin McKinley or Megan Kearney’s Beauties. Unlike Belle, she’s internalized the idea that she’s odd and oversensitive, so she tries to act like a “normal” down-to-earth villager, until the year she spends with Liriel makes her realize her worth just as she is.

7. She’s an aspiring author and poet. At age 13, before her family fell into poverty, she wrote a play based on the popular story of the heroine Lady Yasfira, portraying her as more flawed and dynamic than in most retellings, giving more sympathy than usual to the “evil” queen who opposed her, and portraying them as having once been friends. (Think either The Prince of Egypt or Wicked, or both.) The play was never performed at the time, but years later, with Liriel’s encouragement, she fine-tunes it, and then they perform it together for Liriel’s animal servants – this plays an important role in their growing feelings for each other.

8. She rarely lets herself get angry, but when she does, she can verbally annihilate you.

9. She realized she was bisexual at age 11 when, after her first crush on a boy at her school ended, she developed a new crush on a girl. She probably realized this more quickly than most real-world bi girls do, because the setting, Zalina Island, has no homophobia. She never acted on her crushes, but only out of shyness, not because she saw anything wrong with liking girls.

10. Despite her gentle personality, she’s not especially femme: she’s more soft butch, or maybe futch. She dislikes dresses (fortunately, Zalina Island has no taboo against women in pants) and generally wears just one or two feminine articles, like a shawl or earrings, with otherwise boyish clothing.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story)

What did you want to be, when you were a kid? There were so many things I wanted to be at different times. A queen, a princess, a duchess, a prophet, a traveling bard, an actress, a shepherdess, a farmer, a lady knight, a prime minister, a priestess, an acrobat, a cook, a kitchen maid, a dressmaker like my mother, a merchant like my father, a doctor, a midwife, a goldsmith, a fairy… and eventually, I realized that the one way to be all those things was to be a writer.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer? As soon as I was old enough to realize that stories didn’t come out of thin air, but where written by people. I wanted to do it as soon as I knew I could.

Who inspires you? My mother, my father, and a wide array of fictional heroes and heroines.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I’d love to live in a castle. I try not to care where I live as long as my family is with me, but my dreams of living in some splendid beautiful place never seem to die. I wouldn’t want it unless my family was there too, though.

Which item would you never give away? My journal, where I write down my secret thoughts, poems and stories.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Until recently, I might have cited the time I forgot to write an important history essay for school because I got lost in writing my play Yasfira and Anefri. Or else the time I lost my temper with my three-year-old sister Zuri and hurt her feelings so badly that she ran away and was missing for over an hour. But now, there’s no doubt that my worst mistake was asking Mama to bring me back a unique flower if she could find one on her trip to the city. Who would have thought a flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? Yes, the moment when I saw Lady Liriel for the first time, after I followed Mama back to her lair – half wolf, half dragon, and entirely terrifying – and even more so, when she sniffed the air and I knew she smelled me hiding there.

There’s people who say you’re strange. Do you have any comment on this? I’m afraid it’s true. So often my imagination feels more real than the real world, my mind flies off to places that no one else believes exist, my emotions swell and crash like tidal waves no matter how much I try to swallow them and put logic first, I’ve always asked too many questions, and I feel less alone with only my books, paper and pen than I do in crowds of people.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Well, not many people know how strange I am anymore. I’ve learned to copy Mama and pretend to be as sensible and down-to-earth as she and our neighbors are, instead of spewing my feelings and dreams the way I used to. If the villagers knew about my romantic fantasies or the stories and poems I write in my head, they would laugh or scold even more than the people in the city did when I was small. 

What would make a perfect day for you? A few hours spent reading, a few spent writing, and maybe a trip to the theatre in the evening, with people who understand me and let me feel free to be myself.

Darika 10 Facts 1. She takes on the father’s traditional role in the Beauty and the Beast story. Her husband was a merchant, but he died in the same shipwreck that destroyed his merchandise and left the family impoverished. But a few years later, she learns that one of his ships survived after all, has to travel to reclaim its cargo, but gets lost in a forest… and we all know the rest. Recent BatB retellings have put a lot of effort into answering the question “What happened to Beauty/Belle’s mother?” in interesting and poignant ways. To be different, I thought “Why not make her mother the living parent?”

2. My facecast for her is the New York City Criminal Court judge Rachel “Ruchie” Freier. Not that I know much about Judge Freier, but her face look right for the character.

3. At the beginning of the story, she’s 35 years old. By the end, she’s 40.

4. She was born in a small, poor village at the base of the White Pine Mountains. Her parents died when she was a baby, so she was raised by her grandfather and her older sister, who have since died too. 

5. She worked as a seamstress in the village until she met and fell in love with a wealthy young traveling merchant from an elite port city. Despite the disapproval of his social circle, they married. After his death, she took their daughters back to her home village to start a new life.

6. Her impoverished upbringing and family tragedies have toughened her. She takes a very practical, hardworking, no-nonsense approach to life, tries to teach her daughters to do the same, and is calm and resolute in the face of hardship, focusing on “What are we going to do about it?” She sometimes loses patience with her daughter Shanna’s dreaminess and sensitivity, which makes Shanna, who adores and idolizes her, feel inadequate and weak.

7. Inside, though, she feels just as deeply and intensely as Shanna does. Her love for her family is limitless and she’s actually very dependent on Shanna, who fills the role of the family’s nurturing caregiver more than Darika’s temperament lets her do.

8. One thing she and Shanna have in common, which Shanna learned from her, is strong integrity and deep compassion for others. For her, the best part of being rich was all the good she could do for the poor, while the hardest part of becoming poor again was having so little to give to those even poorer.

9. Her sewing is more than just her job – it’s an art. She embroiders the clothes and quilts she makes with all kinds of colors and unique designs. The vibrant images she creates are an outlet for the emotions she doesn’t express.

10. Her personality is inspired by assorted beloved literary heroines, both classic (Jane Eyre, Elinor Dashwood) and modern (Tamora Pierce’s lady knight Keladry of Mindalen). For all their differences, and though they’re much younger than Darika, all these heroines are quiet, practical, dignified, staunch in their integrity, deeply caring and passionate on the inside, and yet with masks of stoic self-control that they only drop when intensely provoked. I like those heroines and admire them, yet sometimes their popular role model status annoys me, because it’s hard for a highly sensitive, naturally effusive person to act like them. So Darika pays tribute to them, but the story will also emphasize that her daughters don’t need to be like her.

Interview (as she would answer it around the middle of the story) What did you want to be, when you were a kid? A forest sprite or a good witch. I had a wild imagination in those days, before the real world tamed it.

When did you know you wanted to be a seamstress? When I first learned that the flowers and birds on my childhood quilt hadn’t sprouted there by themselves, but were embroidered by my mother, and that the storytelling tapestries that hung on the village temple walls were sewn by other villagers in the same way. I wanted to create beauty like they had, and to tell stories through pictures, while at the same time creating useful things for others: clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, etc.  I think I willed my own talent for sewing into being to do just that.  

Who inspires you? My older sister Shanna; the namesake of my daughter. We lost our mother very young, so she took on the role of mother for me, and every day her love and strength have inspired me as I’ve raised my own children.

If you got to choose, where would you like to live? With whom? I would live in a clean, elegant, comfortable house with my daughters, a servant or two, and my husband, if only I could bring him back.

Which item would you never give away? My wedding ring.

Tell us about the biggest mistake you made in your life. Three of them, one directly after the other. First, when I was lost in the Great Forest during a storm, I took shelter in what I thought was an ordinary cave. Then, when I found that the inside looked like a castle, I should have turned and left; even then I knew that such an enchanted place would be dangerous. But I was cold, wet, and afraid I would die if I went back out into the storm, so I stayed. Last but not least, when I discovered the greenhouse garden in that castle-cave, I crept in and picked a rose as a gift for my daughter Shanna. Who would have dreamed a single flower would cost so much?

Did you ever fear for your life? I feared for my life when I was lost in the storm, but even more so when I came face to face with Lady Liriel. I’ll never forget the sight of her matted fur and vampire-bat fangs as she glared down at me.

There’s people who say you’re cold and stony. Do you have any comment on this? They don’t really know me.

Tell us something about you that nobody knows. Very few people fully know me, not even my daughters. I play the role of the calm, practical peasant woman, but it’s only skin-deep. Shanna thinks all her wild passions and romantic dreams came from her father, but really she inherited them from me too. My grandfather knew the secret me, and so did my sister, and my husband. But they’re all gone, and as I’ve buried each of them, I’ve buried those aspects of myself more deeply.

What would make a perfect day for you? A quiet day of embroidery by the fire at home, with my daughters all near me and all happy.

[roseoilmuse]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫

Summary: Ares Trevino finds out he’s going to be a father, and instead of being responsible, he decides to do everything in his power to forget his current reality, while also ruining his life in the process Characters: Ares Trevino, Aspen Spader, mentions of Eulalie LaVelle and Persephone Trevino, Joy Pepper) Setting: the Trevino mansion, Aspen Spader’s storage unit Word count: 1,583 Trigger warnings: mention of drug use (marijuana, cocaine, heroin), mention of selling of drug, mention of mental illness (bipolar, disassociation), mention of sexual activity

It is Saturday, June 27th.

An intimacy, attention starved Ares Trevino has just experienced his very first episode of disassociation. He has hardly even regained cognizance, a ringing starting to build in his ears, but he can faintly hear the cries of his girlfriend, followed by the soft coos of his sister. The fog of his mind was strong, but still his flight instincts told him that he had to leave. Now. As his astral body snapped back into the physical, he noticed a picture in his hand, but not just any picture, this was a sonogram. Scribbled on the back was Eulalie’s handwriting.

“I’m sorry”

The small pain of a headache had started, and reading the message only made the pain amplify. His flight sense was screaming, he needed to leave, so he did. His ear rang, louder than anything he’s ever heard before as he quickly grabbed his keys and wallet and bolted out the door. Still through the ringing he heard the faint cries, and soon heard angry footsteps. Persephone was pissed, he could feel her energy, which pushed him to practically gallop down the stairs. He didn’t say anything to anyone, just started booking it to his car, having a push to start so it was ready to go before he even stepped foot in. The only trace of Ares was the sonogram, with Eulalie’s handwriting, sitting on the floor of the sitting area of his room.

He drove aimlessly, his goal was to get as far from home as possible, as far from whatever reality his mind decided to separate itself from. The engine roared angrily as he bobbed and weaved in the afternoon traffic, cutting people off, and gunning the engine at yellow lights to barely make it. The ringing in his ears had subsided, but the slight numbness from the heavy episode of disassociation felt like weights. He was halfway through a joint and felt nothing. He remembered he had bought an eightball of coke and left it in his glove compartment, so he went for that, just spilling some onto the webbing on his left hand and snorted it. Nothing. 

More. 

Snort. 

Nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. He felt nothing, his whole face was numb and the drip was making it practically impossible for him to even take a full breath in. He needed something better.

“Maybe it’s cut?” He asks himself out loud, though he knew it was a lie, the guy he went through, Aspen Spader, hands down, has the best drugs money can buy, and that’s who he needed to see. Luckily he was always a phone call away.

Aspen knew what it meant to see the name Ares Trevino flash on his phone screen and In a matter of minutes, Aspen set up a rendezvous spot for them to meet. It was a storage unit, as per usual, that Aspen had set up for moving his bigger weight. Being that Ares was already a loyal customer, he trusted Ares enough to directly come to the source, to a certain extent. So there Ares finds himself pulling up to the outdoor unit, and Aspen motioning him to quickly come in. He’d been there once or twice, Ares knew, don’t touch anything unless asked to.

It seemed Aspen was just having a chill day, the plumes of marijuana and tobacco hung in the air. Aspen explained to Ares this was something he considered an after hours journey, but still he figured they could chill for a bit and get a little fucked up.

He watched anxiously as Aspen laid all the little pills, and powders, flower and oil, carefully setting them in parchment, or filling up various sized baggies, weighing them, and reweighing them whilst also passing Ares a joint, or a blunt, or whatever else they were getting into. Aspen could feel his anxiety. Ares could feel Aspen feel his own anxiety, and though, by choice, Aspen never delved too much into either of their personal lives, he almost felt like he should.

“You okay, dude?” Aspen raised a brow over to Ares, his tone wasn’t nearly as serious as the loaded question, even his expression was light, but Aspen knew he needed to get something off his chest.

“Huh?” Ares was still in a bit of a haze, and while the drug didn’t help, he knew it was more than just that, “oh yeah, just thinking, ya know.”

“Yeah, I can tell dude, you’re far up in your own head today,” Aspen ashed the joint, and placed it back in between his lips, “yah wanna talk about it or are you going to mope all night?”

Aspen’s words stung Ares a bit, only enough to respond sternly, “no, I just don’t even want to think, so unless you have something that will take away this shit then yeah, I actually may just mope.”

A pause, Aspen let out a chortle, handing Ares the joint, and looked as if he was weighing not only his drugs, but a suggestion. The blonde haired man visibly came to a conclusion, setting things down in front of him and moving to a rolling tool box. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a white baggy. The glint in his blue eyes made Ares feel almost hopeful for a solution. The bag soared through the air as it was tossed from one side to the other, Ares luckily catching it, knowing that whatever it was, it had to have a bigger value than most.

Ares stared at it long and hard, feeling as if he stared any longer he might burn a hole straight through it. Cocaine? He thought to himself, pushing his shaggy dyed, black hair out of his face, I already did this today and it didn’t help. His disappointment was palpable, though he continued to stare because he wasn’t one to turn down free drugs.

“Heroin,” Aspen told him, crossing the room back to the table of various drugs, hardly making eye contact, acting far too cool for what he just tossed the younger boy.

“Heroin,” Ares echoed, holding it up to the light. He could tell them it wasn’t cocaine. It looked more powdery, even more… tempting.

“Only if you want to try it,” Aspen again spoke with such calm demeanor it was almost unsettling to Ares.

He questioned his next move hard, though in real time it was a matter of seconds. There were always cautionary tales about heroin, but then again there were cautionary tales about every single thing he ever ingested, ranging from marijuana to even sugary sodas. What harm could it really cause?

His curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it Aspen was making two little lines for the both of them. It shocked him how little one was, while the other was bigger, it wasn’t even significant. Aspen snorted the bigger line up, and immediately his eyes glossed over, the blues turning practically fluorescent. They were beautiful, even Ares could admit that, to himself though, not out loud.This made his curiosity peak even more. So he leaned in, and sniffed the table.

There was an instant rush. All the hairs on his body stood at a point. The warmth, the relief, the absolute bliss…. No.

The 𝕖𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒.

Ḩ̸̩̰͍͕̣͓͉̕E̷͖͈̋̉̐A̶͓̲̜̭̩͖̮͍̔͛̽͊͘V̴̙̻͕̠̲̹̦̠̜͖̅E̸̢̢̡͍͎̩̣̘̿̽̑̅̈̓̕N̵̛͚͋

It is Thursday, or Friday… Maybe Saturday?

He couldn’t remember, all he could process through the heroin haze was the heat. A July kind of hot… or maybe it was an August kind of hot. Whatever time of the year it was, his world was his own. Right now his main domicile was his expensive sports car. He was splayed out in the reclined drivers seat. The light beamed through the heavy smoke as he hotboxed his car, slowly smoking his joint. What little light came through kept his almost fully closed eyes from shutting. Ares had no idea where he was physically, but his body swam through the euphoria of his new true love.

White China heroin.

It is Tuesday, September 1st.

A girl by the name of Joy seems just as desperate for human affection as Ares is. He was thankful for that. She didn’t even seem to notice how strung out he was, driving to his house. Sneaking her in was no problem. Ares went in first, greeted his mother, grabbed a water-- two, he claimed to be thirsty. Oh he was.

Opened his window.

Crawled out.

And brought her inside. Even in the car when he picked her up, he wanted him. He never understood this. She was actually really nice, beautiful, and seemed nervous so what was Red Riding Hood doing shedding her robe for the Big Bad Wolf?

Shed she did, and Ares realized the heroin made him more carnal than ever. Joy was elated. And after September 1st,

The whole month of September he spent in bed with Joy, alternating smoking and snorting heroin. He smoked in his room all day, even the air purifier couldn’t clear the smell completely. He only left his room for Door Dash, or Uber Eats, or whatever food delivery system that made it so he could never leave. He laid in bed, with Joy, buying her whatever she wanted, and pretending to listen about her fucked up family and her fucked up life. He could have cared, but the heroin made him so detached from reality, there was no such thing as care.

Only 𝕖𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒.

Only Joy.

Only heroin.

Only,

Ḩ̸̩̰͍͕̣͓͉̕E̷͖͈̋̉̐A̶͓̲̜̭̩͖̮͍̔͛̽͊͘V̴̙̻͕̠̲̹̦̠̜͖̅E̸̢̢̡͍͎̩̣̘̿̽̑̅̈̓̕N̵̛͚͋

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Carnival of Souls: The Characters

Every film, no matter how big or small, needs characters.

You can have a killer plot, amazing special effects, and a great musical score, but without compelling, interesting characters, it won’t be enough to hold your audience’s attention.  Even in cases like Carnival of Souls, where the characters appear to be quality over quantity.

The cast for Carnival of Souls is the smallest we’ve seen so far.  With a total cast of fifteen people and a main cast of only two, the list of characters is incredibly tiny.  Pretty fitting, considering the very contained nature of the plot.

Unlike many of the casts we’ve looked at on this blog, in this film, there are no definitive heroes or villains.  Of the listed cast members on the poster, there is a protagonist, (Mary Henry) and only one listed supporting character.  This renders it quite an unconventional cast for a horror film: without enough characters to be killed off or terrorized, we are left with only one, alone in a crowd, the sole witness to the hauntings taking place.  While there is interaction between the characters, it’s very limited, giving us a window into mostly one character, period.

As you’ve probably guessed, today, we’re going to be analyzing the characters of Carnival of Souls.  Be mindful, there are spoilers below, so go check out this movie and then come back when you’re ready.  Let’s take a look.

The easiest (and the most sensible) character to start with would, of course, be our Haunted Heroine, Mary, our protagonist.

Traditionally, the protagonist is the character the audience spends the most time with.  They are the main character, they push the action forward.  They tend to be driven by a specific goal, a desire.  The chief problem with Mary as a protagonist is that she doesn’t seem to have one.

Mary’s characterization, as I’ve mentioned in previous articles, is rather hard to get a handle on.  She’s inconsistent, difficult to pin down, alternatively distant and desperate.  She has no primary goal besides being left alone, and being drawn to the haunted carnival.  While at first, that might seem like enough, it throws a bit of a monkey-wrench into our traditional methods of protagonist-measuring.

See, the chief problem with Mary as a protagonist is that she is extremely passive.  It is not her decision to enter the drag race in the beginning, she is along for the ride, and that remains her role throughout the entire film.  Her job is in Utah, so she moves there.  She is drawn to the carnival, she is pursued by The Man, and through no fault of her own, she finds herself flickering in and out of reality.  She is hired, fired, pursued by her fellow tenant, kicked out by the landlady, but she never seems to make any decisions of her own.  She is a reactor, not an active proponent of her story.  

Typically, a way to determine the strength of your protagonist is to examine their goals and actions.  The best protagonists are traditionally those that propel the plot forward intentionally, or at the very least have core desires that they are constantly striving for, even if the plot shuffles them along.  Marty McFly desperately wants to get his parents together and to get back home, even if the events that led him to his position are not due to his own direct actions.  Rocky Balboa did not actively seek out the championship heavyweight fight with Apollo Creed, but made the decision to aim to go the distance with him.  It is not Phil Connor’s choice that keeps him in the Groundhog Day loop, but he proactively attempts to get out of it.  

But Mary Henry’s only goal is to be left alone, except for when she is.

Mary has no driving force, no central goal, no way for the audience to connect to what she wants because she doesn’t seem to want anything.  While this is unconventional for a film protagonist, there is a way that storytellers can make this type of aimless character work: with an intensely unforgettable personality.

There are certainly characters in films that don’t exactly have clear cut goals or motives, and are still absolutely beloved.  The characters from Ghostbusters don’t have much by way of driving forces, and yet their personalities are so vivid and charming that we don’t mind because we enjoy spending time with them.  Indiana Jones isn’t a proactive character in Raiders of the Lost Ark, but his character is so memorable that, again, we want to follow him through the film.

In Carnival of Souls?

As I’ve mentioned in the previous articles, there is very little to Mary Henry’s personality.  She is hot and cold, alternating between extreme indifference and hysteria.  As such, she’s rather hard to follow and get invested in.  And yet, we watch, and we are invested.

Why is that?

Honestly, it’s got a lot to do with the genre and story.

I said in the last article that one of the most interesting things about the film is its mystery.  The twist ending, trying to figure out why what’s happening is happening.  As a result, we care about Mary because we want to know what happened.

Because, of course, Mary is dead, and has been since the crash in the first few minutes of the story.

And as a matter of fact, this actually saves Mary’s characterization.

Mary Henry as a character is confusing, and somewhat bland.  With no arc, growth, or motivation, all that is left is her personality, which isn’t much to speak of.  She’s inconsistent, alternatively frightened and icy calm.  All of this makes sense with the revelation that she is dead, and as a matter of fact, it makes a lot of sense.

With the reveal in mind, Mary’s personality is less ‘bad writing’ and more indications of Mary’s true nature.  It serves as another clue in the mystery.  The audience does not so much sympathize and empathize with Mary as they do observe her, watching from the outside.  The viewers get to see her visions, her sudden inability to be perceived, as well as her interactions with people in reality.  We aren’t really privy to her inner struggles, her growth or arc, because her growth is done.  She’s dead.  Her story is over.  As such, she is displayed as someone who doesn’t belong, framed as sticking out, not really supposed to be there, by both the people around her and the camera.

Carnival of Souls doesn’t give us much by way of protagonist, but it does give us a bit in looking at a victim.  Mary is passive, frightened, and sometimes seems to be a Sugar-and-Ice-Personality, all coming across as rather odd and inconsistent.  While this can seem off-putting, it serves as a large clue to the mystery the audience is still trying to solve.  It is that mystery that carries the audience through, the interest in the reason for the horror in the first place that keeps the viewer interested.

But Mary isn’t the only character in the film.

Every story has side characters.  Whether it’s an ensemble piece or not, there are more people sharing the screen and interacting than just the protagonist.  Supporting characters and antagonists help round out the cast of a film, making it more interesting and helping us see what the character is like in the context of other people.  In the case of Carnival of Souls however, the remaining cast is rather unremarkable, including, oddly enough, it’s monster.

In the history of horror, there have been some pretty unforgettable baddies.  Jack Torrance, the Xenomorph, Norman Bates, The Thing, Chucky, Jason Vorhees, Michael Meyers, Freddy Krueger, and of course, the originals: The Gill-Man, the Invisible Man, Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster and his Bride, and the Wolf-Man.  

In Carnival of Souls, we don’t get to see any of the monsters of that magnitude.  Instead of anything particularly bombastic, we are treated to a Silent Antagonist with a Slasher Smile: The Man, who rises from the water in Mary’s visions to torment her.

Unlike the aforementioned villains, we don’t really get any information or personality from this particular villain, mostly because, unlike most of the above, he’s not a simple ‘monster’.  As it turns out, he’s most likely the embodiment of death itself, the Grim Reaper.  It’s unclear if he means any legitimate harm, or merely frightens Mary with his appearance, but the implication seems to be that he is trying to put her where she belongs: among the dead.  As the audience, that’s all we really know about him.

But what of the land of the living?  Surely there are other memorable individuals who are still alive?

Well, as it turns out, not really.

Of the remainder of the ‘supporting cast’ of Carnival of Souls, very few characters are very memorable.  Only three receive names (John Linden, Dr. Samuels and Mrs. Thomas) and each of the three has a relatively small part to play.

Each character has their own specific relationship with Mary.  Mrs. Thomas is the landlady who begins a little suspicious, but is kind to Mary until she begins to notice her odd behavior.  John attempts to aggressively pursue Mary’s affections despite her alternating attitudes towards him.  Dr. Samuels tries to help Mary figure out where her trauma came from, offering what help he can.  There are other characters (The Minister, who fires her in horror upon hearing her disturbed organ playing, the man in the organ factory, and the sales lady), but for the most part, the supporting cast exists to fill very simple roles, with very little by way of characterization.

In fact, they all exist to share the same type of role: people who don’t understand Mary.

As I said previously, Mary never comes across a character who understands her plight, or tries to help.  No one is sympathetic, or if they are, not for long.  These characters exist to increase the isolation felt by the protagonist, to increase her frustration.  Without a supportive supporting cast, Mary has no one to fall back on, and in the end, must succumb to Death as she should have at the beginning.

In the end, when it comes to characters, Carnival of Souls comes up rather short, but intelligently so.  The writing knew its limits, and used them wisely, focusing on the purpose for the characters rather than the characters themselves.  The unconventional use of the cast emphasizes the mystery and the horror of the overall film, rendering their lack of personality less intrusive than it would be in a less masterful production.  Every character is there for a reason, and as a result, it all works in the end.

Join me next time where we’ll be looking at another interesting aspect of Carnival of Souls, namely the impact of the culture.  Feel free to drop a suggestion or thought in the ask box, and thank you so much for reading!

[adazieht]

Initially, I wrote an article for a Russian-speaking audience. I TRANSLATED WITH THE HELP OF AN ONLINE TRANSLATOR. WITHIN A FEW MONTHS I WILL TRANSLATE MYSELF, BUT MOST LIKELY TO THE GERMAN LANGUAGE.

Attention: I love the world of "Harry Potter," but I think the main character is antihero.

The system of roles that I have described for the story's characters is based on the Writer's Way (the old edition was called the Hero's Way), a classic Hollywood typology. Briefly about the typology Of " the way of the Writer/Hero's» The author believes that by giving a group of first-and second-plan characters clear roles that affect the plot and the Main Character, it is possible to create a strong story. Its typology was at first critically accepted, as proponents of chaotic plot creation thought that it would kill the individual. But in the end, everything turned out exactly the opposite and indeed the best pictures of American and European cinema were created using this typology. Proving once again that random writing can't create a clear and understandable story for female viewers.

------------------

In my opinion the path of the Writer/This is a very strong system, which has been present in the stories of Pixar, Disney, paramount, especially 20th century Fox and others for twenty years (or even more, it should be clarified). However, it creates at first glance clear restrictions that the authors first see and therefore decide to work within the framework, although the typology is intended to adapt to the authors, their mentality, mentality and territoriality (for example: the plot in Germany from an Irish immigrant will not be similar to the plot of an American, although they strictly followed the system of the role of heroes in the plot).

Let The Writer/The hero does not give full will in what characters to use and how. Since it has a total of 7 types (Hero, Trickster, guardian of the Threshold, Mentor, Werewolf, Partners and Shadow). Around which is usually built a dynamic, but short story, which is not easy for everyone to work through and yet is mostly suitable for a movie in the last 1.5 hours.

But it really can be useful, it's just better to Supplement it with your own interpretation and other typologies. It should be clarified that I will not touch on the manner of writing a story using the writer's Path system, since I do not share the opinion about its convenience. Although it is definitely more convenient than the classical system, which is actively taught in Russian universities, where thank you that there are not 25 steps in the story, which are told to put in 40 minutes of narration.

I used The Writer's Path/the hero to quickly think through what classic conflict/action should occur in connection with one of the characters.

Mentor. The mentor was the same Yoda from Star Wars. That is, the character performing the function of a Mentor should teach something to the Main Character/Hero, perhaps even accompany the story, like Merlin. Or teach a lesson and die provoking the Heroine / Hero into action (Uncle Ben from Spider-Man).

False Mentor. Negative Mentor, so to speak. He is trusted by the main character, he even teaches him, but leads thereby to destruction because he is actually an insidious manipulator. Dumbledore from Harry Potter.

The topic of Harry Potter as a character will be touched upon later to demonstrate how we can be manipulated by writers and writers who keep in mind the ideal image of the Main Character-Hercules.

The trickster. Tricksters are the most independent characters. People like to say that Loki from marvel is a Trickster, but in fact he only has trickster elements in his system of action. Namely, to act not only during the main actions on the screen, but also before, between, and behind them. Tricksters don't care about the goals of the Main Character, the Villain, or anyone else. They have their own goals and want to achieve them. Tricksters are always active and do not stand still, so they are rarely in the focus of the cameras or suddenly appear on the scene and thank you if they decide to support Hero. We can say that Tricksters are one of the most powerful characters, both mentally and physically, some of them therefore decide not to go into the main plot especially (if they are not interested in the reward for help or the object of the Main Character's hunt), because why should they go into what they decide with one hand? This is boring, and boredom is not for them, and they like to pretend to be physically weak. As a result, I will write that Tricksters exist so that the world in which the actions take place is alive. So that the tower over there will explode and attract attention, so that at this moment the reader will be hooked by its mystery trickster. To create an active and complete world atmosphere.

Guardian of the threshold. Always on the side of the villain. In the story, it serves to become the last obstacle for the hero, after which he is convinced of his strength and that he definitely needs to defeat the Shadow (the main villain). Sometimes it can take the side of the Hero, since the main role of the Guardian is educational and inspiring during the contact between them. The guardian can decide that the Hero is perfect or that his strength has earned his loyalty, and the Shadow will lose. Usually in the arches of the confrontation between Batman( the Hero) and the Joker (the Shadow), the role of the Guardian is performed by Harley Quinn, who is not rarely disappointed in the Shadow and tries to start living again. But most often the Threshold Guard is killed.

Werewolf. An inferior type in this typology. The author is still not completely sure how much it has the place to be, as a separate type, and not a special quality of other types. For example, a False mentor can also be called a Werewolf who seemed to be one, but turned out to be another. But a Werewolf takes place when the differences from the original image are so strong that it seems that it is a completely different character. That is, There was little red riding Hood - cute, but it turned out to be a serial killer who kills grandmothers and blames the wolf.

The shadow is always the main villain of the story. The shadow has similar features to the main character, not rarely the same weaknesses, desires, but unlike him, the Shadow does not restrain anything and it creates hell that. At the same time, because of similarities, they may have mutual understanding and dialogues, but because of differences, they can not coexist.

Partners-partners and there is nothing to describe here. Just the Hero's partners. All.

And now about the Hero/Heroine and what does the deception I mentioned earlier in the story about Harry Potter have to do with it?

A hero in the classical sense is all good deeds in one person and the desire to do everything for the best. This is a great image of a person who overcomes difficulties and solves the problems of the plot. Their personal plot is easy to understand and always equals the plot of the story.

However, there is also a plot about an anti-Hero. An antihero is a hero who tends to self-flagellate, do stupid things and negatively tune in to the world around him, trying on the mask of an often beaten person who can justify his negative outbursts, bad treatment of his Partners (including sitting on their necks). Antiheroes usually arise from an attempt to make the Trickster the main character, or to arouse pity from readers, often ending with the death of this antihero in order to teach the audience something.

And this is a description of the main character of "Harry Potter", that is, Harry himself. And classics stories about anti-Heroes he was also dragged through the plot, through his "do not want", while its true purpose (which is at least not entirely overlap with the purpose of his environment and history) a large part of the plot was not formed, and after the trigger 4 in the book, he started to want revenge for parents who didn't idealiziruete the image of his cause (revenge for ideal people and for the lost perfect life in complete comfort, instead of to create comfort; despite the fact that he also, like a typical anti-hero, clung to those who would give him this comfort). Then he learns information that tells him that perfect people are not completely perfect. And it is during this period that he begins to physically threaten other people, even committing actions that can kill someone, giving in to anger. Around the characters begin to die, which of course puts pressure on the antihero, but emotionally he does not often remember the deaths, quickly moving away (if it is not the characters who gave him either hope for comfort, or already giving comfort).

Like all anti-heroes, he also exhales sharply, then flares up, then sees that darkness is happening around him. Dies for the sake of achieving a good future (because the decision of the plot is always either in the death of the anti-hero, or because he can do nothing else). Sometimes the authors at the same time give the antihero during or after death a chance to solve the main conflict of the story plot with their own hands, organizing their rebirth, as if they are Phoenixes and are born again bright and clean.

Where do the legs of a typical anti-Hero story grow from? From Greek myths, where heroes often performed "feats" in which they not infrequently killed those who did not harm them or creatures that logically ate those who wandered into the heart of their territories, or killed deservedly villains, but again in the name of Victory, Revenge, to Order, and not justice.

Greek mythology as a whole can be characterized as an anti-Hero cult, which serves to satisfy and encourage the fact that at that time Greece was a very negative country in terms of moral appearance. However, these feats of HEROES were presented to all of us as something beautiful and truly heroic. The same disney cartoon about Hercules could not become anything else either. At the same time, thanks to the development of critical thinking people, it was noticed that the only one who had motivation - was Hades, and the same Zeus asshole.

And if you superimpose Hercules from the beginning of the story and Harry Potter, will there be a special difference in functionality? There are great forces and all around say that he is special, the world around him does not understand, he wants more and feels that somewhere there is a true comfort for him. He wants justice for Himself, not for others. Then something happens that gets him involved in the story's plot. He is given the opportunity to enter the magical world, where he seems to be in the theme, allowed to practice their own powers. At the same time, he does not want to return to the old world, as he is inclined to devalue all the good that he received there. He wants to become a Hero, feeling that he is an inferior classic Hero and something is wrong with him ( he is an anti-hero). And a sense of inferiority develops. There is a trigger that causes him to have a clearly formulated goal, but his goal is not perfect in fact. He is disappointed, but decides to act like a Hero, without showing empathy for others, emotionally distancing himself (he does not understand someone's reasons why they do this, but sees how they do it). There is a dangerous situation for their lives with the deaths of other people (or near deaths). The final, where he is white and cleared of doubt.

Very often, the Shadow of the anti-Hero in the final finally goes mad, reflecting the anti-Hero's obsession with his own goal. Remember when Hades and Voldemort had their roofs blown off?

This is the end of the article. Good luck to all and enjoy writing any texts.

[nyxshadowhawk]

Nyx’s Complete List of Goth Names

Abaddon: From Greek, means "destruction" or "demon of the pit."

Acheron: The River of Woe in the Greek underworld.

Achlys: Greek primordial goddess of poison, misery, and sadness, personification of the death-mist.

Adonis: Means "lord" (as in Adonai). In Greek mythology, the most beautiful youth in the world, loved by both Persephone and Aphrodite. Died tragically.

Adrian/Adrienne: English, from Latin; means "from Hadria" (the Adriatic Sea). I've heard sources saying it means "dark one," but I haven't been able to confirm this. It's still a really cool, kind of gothy name. (Also the real name of Alucard from Castlevania.)

Ahriman: The Zoroastrian devil/evil god.

Akeldama: Means "field of blood," a place in Jerusalem associated with Judas.

Alastor: Greek, means "avenging spirit."

Alcmene: (Female) Means "might of the moon," Heracles' mother in mythology.

Alecto: One of the Erinyes (Furies), the goddesses of vengeance. Means "unceasing."

Altair: The brightest star in the constellation Aquila (the Eagle), from Arabic, meaning "the bird."

Amaranth: (Female) Greek; a mythical purple flower that never fades, a symbol of immortality.

Amethyst: A dark purple crystal, associated with wine and preventing drunkenness.

Andromeda: Greek, means "thinks like a man," the name of a princess in mythology, a constellation, and a galaxy.

Anubis: Jackal-headed Egyptian god of death and embalming.

Arcana: From Latin "hidden, secret" (literally "to shut in a chest"), refers to secrets or mysteries. Also refers to the groups of cards in a tarot deck (the major and minor arcana).

Arianrhod: Means "silver wheel," Welsh goddess of the moon, stars, and the flow of time.

Artemis/Diana: Greco-Roman goddess of the hunt, the moon, and virginity

Asmodeus: Means "wrath-demon," a Goetic demon appearing in a number of texts, representing luxury, sensuality, and lust. (Also Asmodai)

Asphodel: A white flower planted on graves, said to grow in the Greek underworld, and therefore heavily connected with death.

Astaroth: (Unisex) A demon in the Ars Goetia (from the Lesser Key of Solomon), described as a male demon and a Duke of Hell, but the name likely comes from the Phoenician goddess Astarte (or Ashtoreth), who is a version of Ishtar (Babylonian) and Inanna (Sumerian).

Astor: A French and German name from Occitan, meaning "goshawk." A goshawk is a bird of prey. I've read on naming sites that this name was originally a derogatory term for young men with hawk-like, predatory characteristics, but I haven't found anything to confirm this. This is the name of my alter-ego and one of the main protagonists of Shadowbook.

Astra/Astrid/Asteria: From Greek, "star." In Greek mythology, Asteria was a Titaness of astrology and prophecy, the mother of Hecate. An aster is also a star-shaped flower.

Atropos: The last of the Moirai (Fates), who cuts the thread at the end of life.

Autumn: The darkening part of the year, when everything is dying, and Halloween happens.

Azrael: The name of the Angel of Death, means "whom god helps." (Also Asriel)

Azazel: A Watcher's name, means "scapegoat." Taught humanity the arts of weaponry and cosmetics. Commonly associated with demons and evil.

Baphomet: A goat-headed, winged deity associated with Satanism; obscure etymology.

Bastet: Egyptian goddess of cats.

Belial: A Hebrew name meaning "worthless," a name of the devil or a demon.

Belladonna: Also called "deadly nightshade," an extremely poisonous plant that causes hallucinations and death.

Bellona: Roman goddess of war

Bezaliel: Means "shadow of God" or "damaged," a Watcher's name.

Blodeuwedd: Pronounced "bluh-DIE-weth," means "flower-face." A Welsh goddess who was turned into an owl.

Bram/Brom: Technically short for Abraham ("father of a multitude"), the author of Dracula, Abraham "Bram" Stoker.

Bran: Welsh, "raven." The name of Bran the Blessed, a giant and king of Britain in Welsh mythology.

Branwen: (Female) Welsh, means "white raven" or "fair raven."

Breksta: Lithuanian goddess of night, dreams, and twilight.

Caligo: Latin word for “mist,” “gloom,” and “darkness.” (Calignes is the plural, which could also work) (feminine)

Calypso: Greek, "she who conceals." The nymph who kept Odysseus imprisoned on her island.

Carmilla: A lesbian vampire from the gothic novel of the same name, predating Dracula. The name seems to have been invented by the author.

Cassius: Roman, "empty, hollow."

Ceridwen: Welsh enchantress or goddess who stirs the cauldron of poetic inspiration.

Cernunnos: Celtic forest god depicted as having a stag's antlers.

Chiroptera: Literally means "hand wing," the order of bats in taxonomy.

Circe: Means "circle." In Greek mythology, a sorceress who turned Odysseus' men into pigs (and later helped them).

Cora: From the Greek name Kore, meaning "maiden." A name for Persephone. (Also, Coraline.)

Cornix: A princess transformed into a crow by Athena in Ovid's Metamorphosis.

Corvus/Corax: Corvus corax is the scientific name of the common raven.

Crimson: Dark, rich red, the color of wine or blood. One of the Gothiest colors that isn't black. It's very easy for this to sound banal or cringey, especially if it's a character's given name, so use with caution. Scarlet works, too, if you want something easier to use as a given name.

Damian: From Greek, means "to tame," tends to be associated with demons or vampires, a bit cliche at this point.

Dantalion: A Goetic demon, the name is particularly cool.

Desdemona: A tragic character in Othello, comes from Greek and means "ill-fated." Can be shortened to "Mona."

Desmodus: The genus of common vampire bats. (D. rotundus)

Devana: Slavic version of Artemis/Diana, goddess of the hunt.

Dorian: The corrupt, depraved, nearly immortal and astonishingly beautiful protagonist from The Picture of Dorian Gray. (Turns out Oscar Wilde invented the name; it did not exist before the book was written.)

Dracul: Romanian, "devil" or "dragon." What really needs to be said?

Ebony: A very dark wood.

Echo: In Greek mythology, a nymph who was cursed so she would only repeat the names of others; died while pining after Narcissus.

Edgar: Anglo-Saxon, "rich spear." The name of the one and only Edgar Allen Poe (also, my cat).

Eidolon: A type of spirit or ghost in Greek liteature. Also a genus of bats.

Eirlys: Welsh, "snowflake."

Elatha: An Irish god, described as the "beautiful Miltonic prince of darkness with golden hair." Not sure what the source for that is, but cool!

Elvira: Spanish, means "foreign true," a stereotypical Goth name (and the name of the Mistress of the Dark!). Actually, I first ran across the name in reference to a vengeful ghost called Elvira Blood in New England folk legend. Spooky!

Empusa: A kind of Greek female demon (similar to Lamia) that served Hecate.

Endora: Comes from the Witch of Endor, a Biblical sorceress.

Endymion: In Greek mythology, a handsome shepherd whom Selene fell in love with. Zeus granted him eternal sleep so he would never age. Means "to dive, to enter."

Erebus: Greek primordial god and personification of darkness.

Esmeralda: Spanish name meaning "emerald." (Also, the heroine in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.)

Ethelinda: Anglo-Saxon, means "little serpent."

Euryale: Greek, means "far-roming," the middle Gorgon sister.

Eurynomos: Greek chthonic spirit of corpses.

Eventide: It could work as a name.

Fenrir: A wolf demon in Norse mythology, the son of Loki.

Finvarra: Irish, King of the Fairies (and sometimes King of the Dead), a benevolent entity that ensures a good harvest and abundance.

Gabriel: The angel. Means "warrior of god." Gabrielle also works (and is the name of Lestat's mother).

Gehenna: A Hebrew name for Tartarus or Hell.

Golgotha: From Hebrew, "skull," the place where Jesus was crucified.

Grimm: The surname of two German brothers who recorded a classic collection of oral folklore and fairy tales, many of which are very... well, grim.

Habundia: A Celtic name for the queen of witches and night creatures, possibly another name for Nicnevan. Etymology uncertain.

Hades: The Lord of the Underworld in Greek mythology (also the name of the Underworld itself).

Hawthorn: A type of shrub steeped in folklore, associated with fairies and with Beltane (1st May).

Hecate: Greek goddess of witchcraft, magic, the occult, the moon, necromancy, the Underworld, and the crossroads. Means "worker from far off."

Hellebore: A type of evergreen flower, some species of which are poisonous. Believed to summon demons, also believed to cure madness.

Hemlock: A plant used to poison people.

Herne: "the Hunter," a ghost that haunts Windsor Forest (sometimes identified with The Horned God).

Hesperos/ia: The evening star.

Hypnos: The Greek god of sleep.

Iblis: Satan in Islamic lore.

Idris: Welsh, "ardent (passionate, fiery) lord."

Igor: Russian, "bow-warrior." Became famous as the name of Frankenstein's hunchbacked assistant, even though he doesn't exist in the book and his name in the original Universal film was Fritz.

Ingram: Swedish name meaning "Ing's raven."

Iolanthe: Greek, means "violet flower." (eye-oh-LAHN-thay)

Iseult/Isolde/Isolt: A tragic lover in Arthurian legend.

Jasmine: A type of flower, in this case referring to Cestrum nocturnum, or night-blooming jasmine.

Kali: Hindu goddess of destruction, name means "the black one."

Kasdaye: Means "hidden power," the name of a Watcher (another name for Tamiel). (Unisex)

Kiara/n: Gaelic, means "little black one."

Kimaris: A Goetic demon. (Male)

Kokabiel: Means "angel of the stars," a Watcher.

Lacrimae: Latin word for tears.

Lamia: A female demon in Greek folklore who devours children. The name of the witch in the film version of Stardust.

Lenore: A variant of Eleanor (also a good name), means "foreign," the lost love of the protagonist of "The Raven," also has her own poem.

Leshii: A Russian god of hunting, similar to Veles

Lethe: River of Forgetfulness in the Greek Underworld.

Leviathan: From Hebrew, "twisted in folds," a Biblical sea monster. Sometimes associated with Midgard's Serpent.

Libitina: A Roman goddess of corpses, funerals, and the dead.

Ligeia: Greek, the name of a Siren, also the subject of a Poe story of the same name.

Lilah: Comes from the Arabic Leila, meaning "night."

Lilith: Means "of the night" or "screech owl." In Hebrew mythology, Adam's first wife and the Queen of Demons. She refused to submit to Adam, so she left Eden and began screwing around with demons. Often considered a succubus or vampire, or a champion of feminism. A lilim is also a succubus or incubus.

Loki: Trickster god in Norse mythology with ambiguous morals.

Lorelei: German, means "murmuring rock," the name of a German Siren.

Lucius/Lucifer/Lucien: All mean "light" or "light-bringer," a name associated with Satan.

Lucy: From Dracula, also could be a shortening/feminization of Lucifer. (Still means "light.")

Luna: The Roman personification of the moon.

Lycoris: A Greek word that means "twilight," the name of an Asian red flower, associated with death and the underworld (much like Asphodel).

Maeve: Comes from Gaelic, means "the intoxicating one." Associated with the Fairy Queen Mab.

Makaria: Greek goddess of blessed death, a daughter of Hades and Persephone.

Mania: Etruscan/Roman goddess of the undead, ghosts, and underworld spirits, goddess of madness. Also a modern medical term referring to a specific mental illness.

Mara: A name steeped in darkness, referring to a nightmare spirit (nightmare), a (benevolent) goddess of death in Latvian mythology, a (male) demon in Buddhist mythology, and a Sanskrit word meaning "death."

Medea: In Greek mythology, the sorceress who helped Jason, but then went on a murderous rampage when he left her. Considered to be a priestess (or, rarely, daughter) of Hecate.

Megaera: One of the Erinyes (Furies), the goddesses of vengeance. Means "grudge."

Melanie: Greek, "black" or "dark."

Melantha: Greek, "dark flower."

Melinda/Mindy: English, "black serpent."

Melinoe: Greek goddess of ghosts, nightmares, and madness, a daughter of Hades and Persephone.

Mephistopheles: The name of the devil in the Faust legend, could be from Hebrew and mean "disperser of lies," or from Greek and mean "does not love the light."

Merle: (Unisex) from French, "blackbird."

Mina: From Dracula. Short for Wilhelmina, a German name meaning "will-helmet."

Morana/Marzanna: Slavic goddess of winter and death.

Morgan/Morgana: From Welsh, means "sea-circle," the name of Morgan le Fay, a sorceress in Arthurian Legend (who may be good or evil, depending on your interpretation).

Morpheus: The Greek god of dreams, the main protagonist of Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics. (Also, The Matrix.)

Morrigan: An Irish goddess of death, battle, and ravens, name means "great queen."

Morwenna: A Welsh name meaning "maiden." ("Morwanneg" is the name of the witch in Stardust.)

Nepenthe: A magical drug from the Odyssey that cures sorrow and causes forgetfulness.

Nephthys: Means "lady of the temple," the Egyptian goddess of the dead, mate of Seth and mother of Anubis.

Nergal: Mesopotamian god of death, war, and destruction.

Nicnevan: Queen of the Fairies in Scottish folklore. She is the Scottish version of Hecate.

Nightshade: A family of plants including tomatoes, potatoes, and eggplants, but also the notorious deadly nightshade.

Nisha/nt: A Hindi name meaning "night."

Nocturne: Self-explanatory. Refers to a night prayer, a musical composition evoking night, or a night scene in art.

Nyctala/Nyctea: Two obsolete genera of owls. Nyctala is the genus of Boreal owls before it was changed to Aegolius, and Nyctea was the genus of Snowy owls before it was changed to Bubo. Both probably mean or are related to "night."

Nyctalus: A genus of bats.

Nyctimene: A princess from Ovid's Metamorphoses who was so ashamed at having been molested by her father, she refused to show her face in daylight. Out of pity, Minerva (Athena) turned her into an owl. Also a genus of bats.

Nyx: A Greek primordial goddess and personification of the Night. (also Nox)

Oberon: From French, means "elf-ruler," the name of the Fairy King in A Midsummer Night's Dream (Referred to in one scene as the "king of shadows").

Obsidian: A shiny black volcanic stone.

Onyx: A type of banded stone, most famously black. (The word comes from the Greek for "fingernail.")

Ophelia: A tragic character in Hamlet, which probably comes from Greek and means "help."

Orcus: A Latin word for Hell, and a Roman god who punished the dead (possibly an epithet of Hades/Pluto).

Orion: A hunter in Greek mythology, and the famous constellation.

Orlok: The name of the ugly-looking vampire from Nosferatu.

Orpheus: Greek name, possibly comes from the word orphe, "darkness." The name of a demigod with an impossibly beautiful singing voice who attempted to rescue his love from the underworld, failed, and then died tragically.

Pan: Greek goat-horned god of nature, herds, and lust, induces "panic."

Pandora: Name means "all-gifted." In Greek mythology, the name of the first woman, who opened a box that unleashed evil upon the world.

Pandemonium: The capital city of Hell in Paradise Lost, name literally means "all demons."

Persephone: Greek Queen of the Underworld, wife of Hades, and goddess of springtime. You probably know her story. Her name might mean "thrasher of grain" (which would make sense for an agricultural goddess), but could also mean "slayer."

Phaenon: Means "shining" in Greek, refers to the planet Saturn (which has long been associated with darkness in mythology, being the furthest planet from the sun that is observable with the naked eye).

Pluto: Hades' Roman name, also the ninth planet, or what was the ninth planet.

Ransley: An English name meaning "raven's meadow."

Raven: This is by far the most cliche Goth name there is (I originally created this list to provide alternatives to the name “Raven”), but it’s classic, it’s simple, it’s unisex, and it’s undeniably Goth. 

Ravenna: Self-explanatory, also an Italian city.

Renwick: Scottish surname meaning "raven settlement."

Sable: A word referring to the color black.

Salome: From Hebrew shalom, "peace." The daughter of Herod and Herodias, unnamed in the Bible, who requested the head of John the Baptist and danced the Dance of the Seven Veils.

Samael: Means "venom of God," a vicious angel of death, the mate of Lilith. He is not technically a fallen angel, but a servant of God who does the dirty work.

Sekhmet: Egyptian goddess of war and destruction, with the head of a lioness. Her name means "power" or "might." Her epithets included "Mistress of Dread," "Lady of Slaughter," and "She Who Mauls." Ra had to stop her from killing people by getting her drunk on beer that was dyed to look like blood.

Selene: Greek personification of the moon. (Includes "Selena" and variants.")

Senka: Basque name meaning "shadow."

Seren: (Unisex) Welsh name meaning "star."

Seth: A name of Set or Sutekh, the Egyptian god of evil, chaos, and storms. He killed his brother Osiris and cut his body into pieces, and then was defeated by Horus. His head is that of an animal that looks kind of like an aardvark but is not an actual existing creature (at least not anymore). He was associated with the color red and the desert. His name possibly means "one who dazzles."

Shadow: Self-explanatory.

Silas: From Greek, means "from the forest." In The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, it's the name of a [spoiler]vampire.

Silver: The color of the moon, and it looks nice with black.

Sinistra: Technically, it's Latin for "left," but it obviously has "sinister" connotations.

Skiá: Greek word for "shadow" or "shade."

Skotos: Ancient Greek word for "darkness," especially the darkness of death or the netherworld, or obscurity.

Skuld: The last of the Norns (Fates), representing death. Means "debt."

Sombra: The Spanish word for "shadow."

Somnus: Roman name for Hypnos, sleep.

Spyridon: Greek name referring to wicker baskets, which implies wealth. Could also be connected to the Latin spiritus, which means breath or spirit. Usually shortened to Spyro.

Stella: The Latin word for "star."

Stheno: Greek, means "forceful." The eldest of the Gorgon sisters.

Styx: The River of Hate in the Greek Underworld, the most famous of its rivers. The souls of the dead are ferried across it by Charon, and the gods (foolishly, if you ask me, seeing as they always regret it) swear on the Styx to make unbreakable oaths. The word "Stygian" means "of the River Styx" and refers to something very dark or abyssal.

Summanus: Roman god of nocturnal thunder.

Sylvia​​​​​​/Sylvana: Latin, "from the forest."

Tanith: Phoenician, "serpent lady."

Tartarus: The deepest hell-pit of the Greek Underworld, where evildoers are punished.

Tempest: A wild storm, from the Latin for "time."

Thanatos: The Greek personification of Death.

Tiamat: Babylonian primordial dragon goddess.

Tisiphone: One of the Erinyes (Furies), the goddesses of vengeance. Means "murder-retribution."

Tristan: Welsh, "riot, tumult." (Although it sounds like the Latin tristis, which means "sad.") The name of Isolt's lover in Arthurian Legend, and the name of the protagonist in Stardust.

Valerian: Roman, means "strength" or "valiant," also the name of an herb.

Vega: (Unisex) Latin from Arabic, means "falling" or "swooping," a star in the constellation Lyra. It is one of the brightest stars in the entire sky.

Veles: Slavic horned god of cattle, forests, magic, and the underworld.

Veliona: Slavic goddess of death

Velvet: A fabric that most goths love to wear.

Vervain: An herb (verbena), meaning "sacred bough," considered a magical or holy herb in multiple cultures.

Vesperus: (or just Vesper), a Roman name meaning "evening." (Vespera for a girl)

Vespertilio: A genus of bats.

Victor: The first of the trio of gothy male "V" names, means "conqueror," as in "victory." Frankenstein's first name. (Victoria also works for a girl.)

Vincent: The second of the trio of gothy male "V" names, also meaning "conquering," from Latin.

Vivian: The Lady of the Lake in Arthurian legend. From French, means "lively."  (Another name for the Lady is Nimue, which is Welsh and may be related to the Greek word for "memory." She sealed Merlin in a tree.)

Vlad: The third of the trio of gothy male "V" names, the name of Vlad Tepes or "Vlad the Impaler," the real-life Romanian prince who inspired Count Dracula. It's Slavic and means "ruler."

Willow: A beautiful and mournful-looking tree.

Winter: The dark, cold season. Unisex!

Yvaine: Scottish, means "evening star," the name of the star in Stardust.

Zagreus: The name of a chthonic Greek god who was potentially a son of Hades and Persephone or Zeus and Persephone, considered in Orphic lore to be Dionysus before he was dismembered and reincarnated.

Zillah: Hebrew name meaning "shadow."

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Load Out

strawberryfields-forever said: Could you do a roger Imagine where it’s really early / late smile days the reader is at the boys gig in like a shady pub and when they finish he comes and checks in with her but then has to go back and pack up his kit and what not and then then a drunk comes up and is handsy with the reader and making her uncomfortable (you can do as much as you feel comfortable with ofcourse) and finally rog comes and saves the day, please and thank youuuuu

“I’ve been in some prime sleazy joints, but I think this takes the cake,” you muttered, staring at the backstage bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since King George III was still a fresh household name. Letting the door swing closed, you made your way back to the small dressing room where the boys were gathered.

Tim was perched on the armrest of the couch while reading something in his notebook, and Brian was seated on the lumpy, short couch that made him look like even more of a giant, for it had seen some better years. It looked like his knees were practically in his chest, and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

Roger, however, didn’t seem to mind the couch, instead just drumming on his thighs and staring off into space. His bob length, mostly straight blondish hair was covering his face slightly, and stuck up in odd places as he scratched it every so often, trying to work out a difficult part in one of the songs he’d been struggling with the past few nights.

Sighing at the cramped room, you maneuvered around the doorway and sat yourself in Roger’s lap, leaning back against the armrest. Roger smiled and wrapped his lean arms around your waist, stealing a quick kiss from you before sitting back.

“That was quick,” he noted, resting a hand on your thigh and rubbing it as he gazed at you, his head rested back on the couch.

“Didn’t work out, the toilet looks like I could contract the plague and syphilis all at once,” you giggled softly, shaking your head. “Were you the one who wanted to have a gig here? I feel like I’m in Heroin Central.”

“Yes, this place was the only one open for tonight that knew who the fuck Smile is,” he admitted regrettably, and you noticed Brian’s eyebrows raising as he cocked his head to the side and let out a frustrated exhale. You hadn’t any idea why he made that face, but you figured it had something to do with the bugs he’d seen earlier on the way in. Looking back at Roger, you raised an eyebrow as well, and he smiled innocently, which made you giggle once and shake your head.

“You start soon, I should probably get out of here and grab myself a drink before you’re up,” you stated, climbing out of Roger’s lap. He was quick to hook a finger into the belt loop of your pants, and he stood as well, following you out into the hallway. Once you got there, he stepped in front of you and impeded your progress, wrapping his arms around you to rest his broad hands directly on your ass.

Giving him a warning look, you leaned in for one last kiss before you meant to go, your hand cupping the side of his face as he pulled you flush against him. You giggled into the kiss, and he grinned, gently taking ahold of your lower lip with his teeth and tugging playfully before letting go. “Don’t go yet, love,” he pleaded, pressing another eager kiss to the corner of your lips as he coyly slipped a few fingers between your waistband and your skin, but you swiftly intercepted his hand and pulled it back out before he could get too frisky. There were plenty of people in the corridor who had most likely seen, but you still didn’t want to get too wild with your boyfriend right before he played.

“Rog, I’ll see you afterwards, go back in,” you laughed, nodding back towards the poor excuse for a dressing room. That made Roger’s soft, dainty lips go into a pout, and he grumbled melodramatically before stealing a quick kiss and pinching your ass, then stepping aside so you could get to the front. His knowing smirk taunted you as you passed, and you flipped him off before grinning and going out the doors that led to the main bar area.

As you emerged, you rolled your eyes at the state of the pub. The crowd looked mighty sketchy, and you carefully crossed the room to approach the bar as you made a mental note to remember the name of this establishment so you could never, ever come back here again. You got yourself a pint and made your way back over to the stage area, taking up a position where you knew you’d be able to see Rog, then taking a sip of your beer.

No sooner than you got settled in, the boys came out and started their set - Roger was the first to emerge, followed by a mildly stiff Brian and an always-drony Tim. Roger shot you a wink when he spotted you, then let himself get into the zone and off they went. They were full of a different energy tonight, but the crowd ate them up nonetheless, for they couldn’t notice the same nuances that you could. You’d seen night after night of their performances, and their surroundings definitely affected their performance. Tonight was good, but other nights in bigger pubs with proper lighting were far more involved on the band’s side.

This pub’s audience didn’t seem to be concerned too much with how they looked on stage, because they still played quite well. That’s all that mattered to them, and they got a hearty applause once they’d finally finished, Roger jumping straight off stage to saunter over to you and finish off your second beer that you’d retrieved during their set.

“Hello, love, enjoying yourself?” he asked, obviously teasing you about how out of your element you felt at the moment. He sat your glass down on the high top next to you, and you shot him a look that said all he needed to know. A devilish chuckle escaped his lips, and he was about to give you a filthy kiss that would have you two out of there in record time when he heard Brian’s voice sternly calling him from the stage.

“Rog. Load out.” Roger’s face dropped, and he rolled his eyes before kissing your cheek and tucking a hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be back in a moment, get me a pint, will you?” he asked, and you confirmed with a nod as he smiled gratefully and took off again to load up his drumset. You smiled after him, shamelessly checking him out and wiggling your eyebrows when he turned back and caught you after a moment. He pressed a finger to his lips and played innocent, posing like an idiot as he bent over to put his snare back in the case with the stand.

You giggled, wolf whistling at him before finally heading for the bar to get his drink for him. You had to shoulder your way through the crowd a bit more as you headed there, because it was getting more and more dense, but you managed to snag the last bar stool before they filled up.

While you were waiting for the bartender to take your order, you felt a hand on the small of your back and you assumed it was Roger, so you turned around with a smile on your face only to see a strange older man with glazed-over eyes and a lecherous smile staring straight at you, his hand still on you.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol as he was jostled a bit from behind, which forced him closer to you. You visibly recoiled, wrinkling your nose as the man’s hand slid up your back torturously slow, coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re new, I’ve never seen you here before.”

The fact that he was here often enough he could pick out fresh faces in the crowd was all that you needed to know about this man. You took a shaky breath, then tried to force on a fake smile. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend, he should be here any second.”

“I don’t see him?” the man said, looking around before raising his eyebrow at you, his crooked grin widening. You were absolutely repulsed at this point, not knowing whether you wanted to flee or throw up on him more – the smell of his breath was making you lean more towards the latter. His bony fingers dug into your shoulder as time passed, almost demanding an answer.

“He’s coming,” you firmly reiterated, shrugging off his hand and trying to figure out the most polite way of telling him to fuck right off. Although you were raised to be scrappy, you knew not to mess with drunkards – it could get really violent, really quick.

The man was unbothered, though, and rested his hand on your knee, giving it an overly-friendly squeeze as he forced himself into your line of vision. You gagged a bit at the gesture, and it took all of your strength to not smack him directly across the face as he continued dragging his leering eyes all the way down your body. “You’re a pretty thing. Sure your boyfriend won’t mind if we go dance?”

“I, uh,” you stammered, feeling a bit overwhelmed as you struggled with what to do, what to say. You didn’t want to anger him, that was for sure, but you were conflicted as every bone in your body screamed at you to give him a good walloping for touching you. “I don’t dance.”

“Oh, that don’t matter,” he dismissed, his grin threatening at this point as his hand continued to rest on your knee. “I can show you some moves, get the blood flowing.”

“Oh, Christ,” you muttered, your gag reflex triggered again as you turned to the bar and forced his hand off your knee. Calling the bartender over, you ordered two more pints and fished out the money as you pretended to ignore the man leaning against the bar next to you, visibly annoyed that you’d rejected his advances yet again.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get out of here,” he demanded this time, gripping your upper arm as you handed the money to the bartender. You stared at the bartender helplessly as they rolled their eyes and took the money. They had obviously dealt with this guy before, and this was a common thing.

“Listen, George, lay off,” the bartender said, starting to pour the pints while keeping an eye on the both of you.

“No, she’s here with me,” the man you now knew as George lied, and you scoffed, about to let him have it when you felt another hand on your other arm. This time, it actually was Roger, and you’d never felt such a sudden rush of relief in your life.

“Hello, love,” Roger said to you, offering you a quick smile before pointedly looking at George, who chuckled back at him.

“Is this your boyfriend? Looks more like a girlfriend to me,” George sneered, Roger rolling his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that he looked like a girl, and it sure wouldn’t be the last, but it still irked him a bit.

“Why’ve you got your hand on her, mate? Kindly fuck off.”

“Watch yourself, pretty boy, before I knock your precious little teeth out,” the man practically growled, his grip getting tighter on your upper arm.

“Over my girlfriend? I feel like that should be switched around,” Roger mused, pretending to think about it. “Nah, I think I’ll just have to take you down if you don’t let go in about 5 seconds.”

“Let go?” the man laughed, a smoker’s cough peppering the sound. “I’m going to borrow your lady friend for a second. We’re going to dance.”

“Like hell you are,” Roger laughed, which made you panic. Why was he so calm about this situation? You felt like your left arm was practically being ripped off by this troll of a stranger, and here Roger was laughing? Before you could lay into him about it, Roger’s hand quickly reached around your back and he grabbed ahold of the man’s pinky, pressing hard against the base of the nail bed and making him cry out in pain as he sunk to the floor. Thanking the bartender, he tossed a couple extra notes up on the bar before grabbing your drinks and handing yours to you, then wrapping his arm around your shoulder and quickly ushering you backstage again.

“What in the fuck did you do to him?” you asked incredulously, having not seen what made the man crumble completely. Roger chuckled and shook his head, opting to not answer as he took big drinks of his pint, thirsty from the set.

So, you resigned to being in the dark about it as you took a drink of yours too, wrapping your arm around Roger and slipping your hand into his back pocket as you went down the corridor. “Did you miss me?” he asked instead, bumping your hip with his as you both approached the back of the building, where the other two were waiting to take off.

“Miss you?” you scoffed, giving his ass a quick pinch and making him yelp, then give you a feisty look as he opened the door for the both of you. “Always.”

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[gamer-chick-reviews]

Psychedelica of the Ashen Hawk (PSVita) Non-Spoiler Review

Hiya! Time to rate an otome game. I have played a couple otome games, but this will be my first review on one. Some of you might find this game familiar if you have played the first in the series: Psychedelica of the Black Butterfly. I played the first game last year, so it has been a couple months. You don’t need to play the first game to play this game, but there are some references to the first game. Players can always play Black Butterfly after Ashen Hawk.

For this review, there will be no spoilers. I will layout my thoughts on certain aspects of the game and will talk about the characters. In the character section, there will be brief descriptions to give players an idea of the characters personalities. If that’s something you want to experience for yourself, feel free to skip over that section.

Alright! Hope you guys enjoy the review!

Description: (Quoting from the PlayStation Store)

Uncover the secret – Unite the clans

In a town ruled by opposing clans and overshadowed by superstition and legend, a child is born with the dreaded mark of a witch.

She conceals her identity until the theft of a mysterious relic brings to light a series of staggering revelations.

The mysteries she will uncover could restore order... or destroy everything that she knows...

The Psychedelica series is an otome game that focuses heavily on the plot/mystery aspects rather than the romance. The romance plays a secondary role, but there are still alternate endings for each character. If you have played the first Psychedelica game, then you will notice some bias for the poster boys. I felt that it was more subtle for Black Butterfly, but I would say that it really shows in Ashen Hawk. Players might not like this, but I would say to give the game a chance because the plot and characters really shine in these games.

Characters: (9/10)

The characters in this game were all very likeable in different ways. Since this is a non-spoiler review, I cannot go into too much detail on each character, but I do feel that each one was delivered well based on the circumstances they were put in. I think that left a big impression on me because for each character, their ending is not necessarily happy or consequence free.

The Psychedelica series does a good job on showing each characters personality outside of the main plot through extra events you can obtain throughout the game. I found myself liking some characters more than others due to these extra events. However, each side story added a lot of texture to the characters and overall showed their dynamic with the main girl.

Some background before getting into the characters is that they focus on two opposing clans: the Wolf and Hawk clans. They both manage the town, but do not get along. Other characters are residents of the church and tower. Only the main cast will be described, while some side characters will be briefly mentioned.

Jed/Eiar (Jed is the name she uses as a man, while Eiar is her real name. Both names can be changed. Voice actor: Tamura Mutsumi)

Jed is the protagonist of the game and a resident of the tower. I am going to refer to her using her male name because it is mostly used throughout the story. It shows above that Jed is not her birth name but is given to her to disguise her gender because she has the mark of a witch. Jed is very independent, which causes her to not rely on others very often. She works as a handyman to make a living and is skilled in housework such as cooking. She is seen as a very reliable person, and often takes care of others. In search of the missing relic, she is often seen to long for what it would have been like if she did not have to hide her gender. This shows a different side of her where players can see more of her desires and thoughts, which can sometimes cause her to be a bit self assuming toward others. Overall, I thought that Jed was a strong protagonist because of her many skills and witty personality. I did not agree with some of her actions, but it was all very believable with how the plot developed.

Lavan (Voice actor: Hino Satoshi)

Lavan is the eldest son and heir to the Wolf Clan. He is loved by everyone, but keeps a distance from others at the same time. His closer relationships are basically with Jed and his family. He is good natured and skilled in combat. He often puts the priorities of the clan above his own feelings. He is pretty much the older brother type character.

My thoughts on Lavan were that I felt for him, but he was my least favorite of the group. I already had a feeling that he would be my least favorite, but I got to say the voice actor did a great job with his character. He wasn’t my type and his ending was alright. I just had vibes from him, and I am sure you will too. I think they made it pretty obvious.

Levi (Voice actor: Saitou Souma)

Levi is the second son of the Wolf clan who is in charge of the vigilante group. He is hot-headed at times when provoked by the Hawk clan, but he is an overall cheerful person. He thinks of Jed as a younger brother, but Jed often ends up giving him advice instead.

Levi is my favorite in the game. My first impression of him with the short description given was that he was going to be one of those short-tempered manly guys who like eating meat. A typical stereotype you see in anime. Not going to say if he was or not, but Levi went up a lot for me as the game progressed. Some things I can say are that I really like that his relationship with Lavan was not a basic sibling rivalry. They were brothers that supported each other. Levi had a lot of texture and flaws, but I like that as a character he accepted his flaws.

Lugus (Voice actor: Furukawa Makoto)

Lugus is the son of the current Hawk clan leader, Olgar, and the next heir. He has an intense expression where others find it difficult to approach him. He is seen doing his father’s bidding and does not care about the town residents opinions of him. Of course, there is a lot more to Lugus than this. He is a man that respects his father, and cares for his younger sister, Ti.

Lugus was probably my second favorite in the game. He is that cold type that is actually soft and adorable. He is also the poster boy of the game which is obvious from all the promotional art and the alternative game cover. It is also pretty obvious as the story progresses since there is some romantic bias. I honestly thought he was a great character, so overall poster boy material.

Tower Overlord aka Ashen Hawk (Voice actor: Hirakawa Daisuke)

Ashen Hawk is a free spirited man that does not remember his past. He is also a resident of the tower and is often scolded by Jed for his lazy behavior. Because of his behavior, he does not like troublesome things and does not go out to meet others. He is also one of the only characters that knows Jed is a girl.

My first impression of Ashen Hawk was that he was going to be the flirtatious type. He is, in a way, and often teases Jed, but he has a lot more layers than that. I found his interactions with her to be fun and sweet. He is very much like a guardian figure to her. Ashen Hawk is a bit of a mystery, so I cannot reveal much.  

Hugh (Voice actor: Namikawa Daisuke)

Hugh is a mysterious traveler who comes and goes as he pleases. He takes an interest in the heroine and wants to see how her story plays out.

Hugh was my third favorite. I got the feeling as the story progressed that he was strangely easy to talk with. He drops a lot of hints to the first game and often tells the heroine stories from his travels. His character was actually pretty confusing, but most of his story was sorted out as you got more endings. He has got to be the most beautiful character in the game. I found myself liking him more in the common route and other people’s endings rather than his own.

Plot/Gameplay: (9/10)         

The description and character section of this review basically shows the general story that will unfold. The beginning of the story is a very long common route that branches into different endings. In these games, you are usually required to complete the common route first to get character specific endings. It is all set up in a flowchart system that you will see below. I like this system a lot because you can skip over parts of the story faster. The plot consists of 10 chapters, but some endings can end in early chapters.

There is also a map function of the town that consists of different side stories and events. The events in pink are considered “Town Memories” which can be described more as questions that you ask the people of the town. It is almost like a trivia add-on because it even asks some of the main characters their favorite food or hobbies. The events in blue are considered “Short Story Episodes” where Jed/Eiar can interact with the main and side characters of the game. Lastly, the green events progress the main story. There is also an antique shop in the tavern of the town where you can buy extras that will reveal more of the mysteries of the story. I liked having this shop, but you had to gather town memories which got very repetitive. I suggest that you do all the town memories in the map before progressing in the main story or short story episodes.

The story itself was enjoyable because of the good balance of plot twists and character interactions. There are some clichés, but I would not say that they are bad. I felt that this game did a good job using some of these clichés. Some of the plot twists can be easy to predict, but I still found it fun and engaging. I am sure that you will have inklings about certain things and character. I had so many, and I ended up being right for the most part. I was still surprised even when I had an inkling about something, so that also left a big impression on me. I was definitely absorbed in the story and found myself wanting to know more as I progressed.

Music/Sound: (10/10)

I enjoyed the music in this game and felt that it was all thought out with the setting of the story. It sounds pleasant, lively, and dramatic depending on all the different scenes in the story. The transitions for the music were all on point.

The songs with lyrics were my favorites. The opening song “Haizora no Shizuku” by Akiko Shitaka feels very dramatic. I love her unique voice that I have often recognized in other games (The Liar Princess and The Blind Prince). The ending song, “Vermelho” by Eiko Shimamiya is also pleasant to listen to. I ended up really liking this song once I heard it a couple more times.

I also want to add that the voice actors did amazing with their characters. I think they all did equally well. I have to applaud Lavan’s voice actor though for reasons I cannot go into much.  Let’s just say some of his extra events really gave me vibes from his voice actor.

Graphics: (8.5/10)

The artwork in this game is really nice. The soft colors match up with the snowy setting and look really clean. Like in their first game, they would add an animated effect to the characters to create movement in a 2D setting. I honestly like that they did this because it really gets you to picture the scene.

Another aspect that was great was that Jed gets a character portrait in the game. This was nice because the game gives her and the other characters great expressions. Jed has this amazing smirk that I really enjoyed seeing, while the others had a variety of expressions during extra events.

The backgrounds of the game were all nice as well. I thought there was a good variety since the town, forest, and tower were pretty much the main areas you could go to. The map of the town was actually a surprise to me that I ended up liking because it gets the player to have a more interactive experience within the game.

Lastly, the CGs of the game were all very beautiful. I could really feel the atmosphere from them and how heartfelt exchanges between characters were. The setup of the gallery also puts all the CGs together, so there are no separate character menus or repeated CGs like in Black Butterfly. Some character endings did not have a final CG for their romance, while there were moments where I felt there could have been a CG added. Although some characters did not get a super romantic scene or kiss CG, I felt like their interactions made up for that. Of course I was still a bit sad, but I do appreciate that these games put a lot into their plot and characters.

Verdict: (9/10)

I give Psychedelica of the Ashen Hawk a 9/10.

If you are a fan of Black Butterly, I would say that this game definitely does not disappoint. I think it is worth the buy for new players as well because of the variety of characters and overall plot. I want to say again that this game can stand alone, but if you like to notice references than I suggest you play Black Butterfly first.

I had a lot of fun with this game, and felt that all the endings were interesting and matched up with each characters circumstances. It was not all happy times, so be prepared for some feels. I am hoping that there will be another installment in the future.

As always, thank you for reading this review. I hope you enjoy this game if you give it a go!