#possibly get started on some latin if i get into the course i want

[ziemiawypalona]

this is gonna be such a busy summer.

[panther-os]

beating my head against the walls in Latine

here's eight things that atp will have me immediately closing out of any fic, AleRudy edition:

1.

❌ "the los vaqueros"

ah yes the famed and feared las almas battalion of Mexican special forces. the the cowboys

✅ "los vaqueros"

✅ "the vaqueros"

2.

❌ "the los vaqueros base"

✅ "los vaqueros' base"

✅ "the vaqueros' base"

3.

❌ "corporal alejandro vargas and sergeant rodolfo parra/major rodolfo parra"

look, fuck the military as an institution and also fuck the devs for using American rank structure for members of the Mexican army but

it takes roughly 2 years in the army to advance to Corporal. the equivalent in the Mexican army is Cabo, and Google will not give me the requirements for it no matter how I ask

it takes 3-6 years to advance to Sergeant. From what I can tell, the Mexican equivalent is also Cabo (where Sargento Segundo is closer to Staff Sergeant)

it takes 10-12 years to advance to Major, the equivalent is Mayor (not the English word mayor like of a city, don't be like those white people)

it takes 22-24 years, a bachelor's degree, and officer school to become a Colonel and it takes 18-20 years and a whole mess of leadership courses nearly equivalent to a degree to become a Sergeant Major

put some goddamn respect on their names

✅ Colonel Alejandro Vargas and Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra

✅ Coronel Alejandro Vargas and Sargento Primero Rodolfo Parra

4.

❌ Fuerza Especiales

❌ Fuerzas Especiale

this is just not understanding Spanish grammar

✅ Fuerzas Especiales ("Special Forces")

❎ Fuerza Especial ("special force")

5.

❌ Sin Nombre ("without name")

Alejandro literally corrects Soap on this one in the game

✅ El Sin Nombre ("The Nameless")

6.

❌ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Mexican Special Forces"

the leader of Mexican Special Forces is the Secretaría de la Defensa Nacional - the Secretary of Defense - and Fuerzas Especiales is composed of three brigades, 74 independent battalions (like Los Vaqueros), 36 amphibious special operations groups. Colonels command single brigades at most.

Alejandro is capable of leading Mexican Special Forces, but it would require him to retire from the field and get more of a desk job, with far more politics than I think he'd have patience for

✅ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Los Vaqueros - a battalion of Fuerzas Especiales stationed in Las Almas"

7.

❎ "our ancestors, the Aztecs"

look, indigenous identity is weird sometimes and I don't know enough specifics about the culture around it in Mexico to have a solid opinion, but I'm also very fucking tired of people thinking the only indigenous groups in Mexico are the Nahua (Aztecs) and Maya. if they're on the Texas border and their families have always lived there, their heritage is most likely seven different Apache nations/language groups in a trench coat with some Spanish conquistador on the side. they're most likely not related to any famous indigenous chiefs or other figures, but it's very possible they can trace their Spanish ancestry back directly to nobility

for example, I am related to absolutely none well-known Tsalagi or Kwikipa people as far as I'm aware, but I am a direct descendant of the brother of King Ferdinand the Catholic, which also means I'm a direct descendant of the guy who started the Inquisition (and now I'm Jewish (and pro-Palestine for those who want to know) so take that, colonizer)

also while Bayardo is Mexicano, Alain is Cubano, please be respectful when talking about the actors or when in their instagram lives and just. don't make assumptions y'all

8.

❎ "Los Vaqueros" is a nickname from the people of Las Almas, the battalion's actual name that is on all the paperwork and dog tags is more likely numerical or describing their role/location - like "11th Battalion" or "The Borderline Battalion" or something like that. maybe even both, like "The 11th Border Battalion"

[tarjapearce]

dancing to sexy latin pop or reggaeton music with miguel. he's got two left feet and slight rhythm but he's also very turned on by you 🤭

Another Pre-Soccer Family and how they keep flirting? Yes. 🤭

Couldn't help but imagine this with these songs 🤭

Even though the little outing after soccer game you had invited Miguel to was success, your wallet surely suffered some damage.

The man ate. He was kinda quiet mostly of the time, but surely enjoyed the food you had treated him with. You were just taking mental notes of what he liked and what not. The spicier the better, definitely a Horchata team man, and of course, a carne asada man. The conversation was sparse, but it was nice. You were as nervous as he was, didn't actually think that he would accept.

He loved meat. And once you finished you drove him home. He ended up 'telling' you about this upcoming party at Peter's to celebrate MJ's birthday.

"If you wanna come, though."

"Are you... inviting me?" You gave him a smug smile and he just cleared his throat and shrugged.

"I'm just telling you."

You pursed your lips, smile fading.

"Oh... okay. I might go. "

"Might?"

"Hmm." You parked outside his home, "Not sure if I can make it that day. But let me see what I can do"

-----

Miguel gave Peter's house entrance subtle glances here and there. He was busy with the food, Peter had asked him for the details of your date which, he plainly just shrugged off as a normal outing.

"Did you invite her to the party?" Jess spoke

"I told her about it." He frowned at the disappointment in Peter's and Jess, even Gabriel's face.

"Telling is not the same as inviting! It's the etiquette rule to invite someone, when you want to see them again that is. No wonder she looked kinda bummed out."

"Yo tampoco vendría si me lo dijeran así." (I wouldn't come either if I'd get told like that)

His deep red eyes glared at his brother's comment.

"Si viene, mínimo baila con ella." (If she shows up, the least you can do is to dance with her.)

"Okay, okay. Leave the guy alone. He hasn't dated someone in ages. But yeah, you're a dumbass. C'mon." He offered a beer, Miguel took a long swig of it.

------

He didn't had your phone and certainly approaching Jess was out of the equation. She'd tease him to no end before anything. Party had started two hours ago, and still no signs of you.

He rubbed his face, deep in thought on how he had possibly screwed it up as he nursed his Horchata glass in the kitchen. He was preparing an extra plate of food when your voice echoed through the entrance.

"I'm so sorry for the delay! Got too carried away picking a gift" You hugged MJ.

"You hungry?" Jessica spoke as your voices approached. His grip on the spoon tightened.

"Ah, don't worry. Kinda ate in my way back. Maybe later."

Your eyes met his. His jaw tightened and you just gave him a little smile and a wave before disappearing back with Jessica.

Awkward.

----

You had been dancing the last few songs in a row with Jessica and MJ, he just watched you from afar. You had rejected a couple of men that had asked you to dance.

"He keeps staring" Jessica mumbled and you shrugged.

"Can't do everything myself. Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but he doesn't seem too keen in making an advance either"

"You kidding? He's been staring holes at the door waiting for you to come." MJ whispered at your ear.

"He's just... shy I guess?"

The music was a bit upbeat, the lights were down, you refreshed yourself before going back again at the dance floor. You saw him across the room, bored out of his mind, and taking swigs of his beer that was warm at this point.

He nearly choked as you approached him.

"Let's go"

You offered your hand and he looked away.

"No puedo bailar" (Can't dance)

"No te preocupes. Yo tampoco pero te enseño" (Don't worry, Me neither but I'll teach you.)

He took a last swig of his beer and stood. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or it was the whole thing that was about to happen that made his ears warmer. The beat changed into something more slow and mellow. A bachata.

You giggled as you stood before him.

"Now what?"

"We are supposed to get closer"

He crushed your heeled foot with his boots

"Sorry... fuck." He rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Relax, it's fine. It happens alot."

One of your hands went around the small of his waist as he took your hand. Delicate and small snuggled against his calloused and big one.

His heart skipped a beat when you guided his other hand on your waist.

"Right"

"Bachata is easy. It's just swaying your hips left and right. It's the easiest dance" You stepped closer, and moved with the beat. He could feel your curves moving. His feet followed. Clumsy, step dances were enough to make you laugh. He frowned.

"Perdón, perdón. Ya, no me voy a reír" (Sorry sorry, Ok. I won't laugh)

"Suelta esas caderas, mano" (Let those hips go, man)

Your hands went to his hips, and moved them.

"One, two" Your hips swayed to accentuate the little whip move at the end of the second step. He gulped.

"Eso, Miguel!"

You clapped softly, he just chuckled.

"Now, just do that to the left and right and that's it."

"Really?" He took your hand in his again and placed the other one on your lower back.

"Yeah." Your lips stretched in a bashful smile.

For once you were glad the lights were down as you danced. You still could see him. And of course still could feel his feet crushing yours. People stared your way, but neither of you cared, too focused in teaching eachother things as you laughed out of nervousness.

The song changed, into something more Sultry, yet danceable.

That was definitely one of Gabriel's songs.

"I don't know how to dance this one, does the previous dance moves apply to this one too?"

His technicism in speaking was plain endearing to you. You giggled at his pouty face.

"Not really, but if you feel comfortable with-"

"Enséñame, pues." (Teach me, then)

That shut you giggle off. He smirked.

"Estás seguro?" (You sure?)

He shrugged and crossed his arms on his chest.

"We're already making a fool of ourselves, so..."

"Me gusta tu entusiasmo, Dracula" (I like your eagerness)

"Qué te digo, me gusta aprender." (What can I tell you. I like learning.).

You slapped his chest playfully then took his hand and guided him to a wall, like many other people around. His hands were on your waist again, and this time yours rested on his neck. The lyrics of the second song only added a little sizzle to the mood.

Imagínate en mi cuarto

Comiéndote a besos

Your body swayed, it took a little for him to get your rhythm. And it was almost intoxicating for him, borderline overwhelming. The closeness of your bodies didn't help, the lyrics of the song only made his eyes to stop at you lips, Your fingers had ended up entwined, and certainly that little red dress you wore didn't help the upcoming override in his system. The song was over, but it didn't matter.

One of your hands caressed his nape and he shuddered, you bit your lip, he inched closer to your face. Nails raking softly the exposed part of his skin underneath his neck, his breath fanned over your lips. But one finger stopped him, said finger separated your lips from his.

"Nuh uh. No me invitaste, recuerdas? " (You didn't invite me, remember?)

With a smirk you separated your body from his. His eyes blinked, trying to process what was happening

"Thanks for the dance" You smiled oh so sweetly before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him there, a flustered mess. Mind was in 404 error.

Dios mío...

[da-rulah]

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.  

Your glove.     It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him. 

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.  

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.  

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.  

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.  

He must have been dreaming...   

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa. 

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you. 

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.  

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.  

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.  

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.  

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.  

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should. 

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”  

But you were gone.   

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.  

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?  

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...   

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…  

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.   

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.   

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.   

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.  

Not anymore.  

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.  

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.  

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters. 

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...  

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.   

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.   

His his his.  

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.   

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...  

Until...  

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.  

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.  

Just a fucking dream.   

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds?     Copia sure hoped so.  

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?  

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.  

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.  

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.  

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...   

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.   

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.  

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still... 

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.  

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.   

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.  

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him. 

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.  

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.  

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all... 

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.  

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.  

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.   

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.  

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.  

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.  

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion.     “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”  

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight.     “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...” 

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.  

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.  

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial. 

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again. 

“Sì, Papa.” 

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey.... 

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.” 

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.” 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.  

On a fucking Thursday.  

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.  

“W-well, yes...”   

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him. 

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.  

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all... 

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.  

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.  

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.  

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.  

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke... 

He cleared his throat quietly.     “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...  

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing. 

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you.     Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.  

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins. 

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture. 

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.  

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?   

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.  

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.  

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin. 

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.   

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...    

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.  

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.   

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.  

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you.   “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-” 

“Cardinal please, I can’t-”    “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.  

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him.     “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.  

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.  

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.  

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-”     “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings. 

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...” 

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you.     “Sorella, please...” 

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...  

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust...    Of submission. 

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.  

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”  

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.  

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head.     “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant. 

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.  

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.  

The seminar room...  

… from your dream.  

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours. 

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”  

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.  

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?” 

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma. 

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”  

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.  

Tempting you.  

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before. 

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.  

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try...  “Would you like me to kiss you?” 

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...   

But you could never deny your Cardinal.  

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.  

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth. 

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.  

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.  

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”  

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.  

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.   

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.  

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.  

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.  

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.  

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you. 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.  

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.  

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.” 

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him. 

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.  

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.  

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.  

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon... 

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.  

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.  

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.  

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.  

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...  

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.  

This was so much better.  

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.  

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.  

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.  

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.  

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.  

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?  

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.  

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.  

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.  

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.  

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.  

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read. 

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.  

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.  

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.  

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...” 

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.  

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.  

Wet.   

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”  

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.  

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric. 

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.  

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.  

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”   

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back. 

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”   

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.  

 Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.   

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?   

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...  

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...    

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____?  What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?   

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment. 

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?   

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?  

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest. 

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...    

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”  

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.  

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.   

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”  

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.  

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.    

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?  

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear. 

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.  

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.  

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well. 

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.  

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.   

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”   

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches. 

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.  

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you . 

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched. 

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...” 

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.   

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.  

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.  

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...  

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.  

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.  

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...  

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.  

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed. 

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.  

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?  

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.  

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...  

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.  

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.  

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out. 

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.  

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.  

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream. 

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.  

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself... 

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.  

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least... 

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.   

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.  

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.  

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.  

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.  

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.  

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.  

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.  

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.  

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.  

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”   

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.  

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”   

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.  

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.  

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.  

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.  

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...  

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment. 

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first. 

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.  

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.  

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.  

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-” 

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics.    “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.  

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you.     “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.  

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”  

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.  

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.  

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.  

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.  

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.  

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.  

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers... 

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.  

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.   

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .  

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.  

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be...   FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter One

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn't be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there's a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: You, Antiques salesman, mother, cute black cat.

Chapter Warnings: Pain in the ass mother, language.

W/C: 1,220

A/N: Soley thought of this idea just for that Spiderman meme.

The bell to the antiques store tinkled as you opened the door. As you stepped in, the proprietor of the store moved away from behind the counter. The place was cluttered, and everything in sight was for sale.

“Hi there, interested in purchasing something today?”

He was a kindly-looking older gent, who reminded you of your pops, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly at him.

“Potentially. Just browsing, for now.”

“Looking for anything in particular?” He enquired as you started to browse.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

He smiled then. “Ah. You won’t know what you’re looking for until it finds you.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.

You chuckled and nodded. Yeah, you could agree with that.

It didn’t take long for you to find something. Your eye had landed on a trifold oval picture frame. And for the price tag, you were tempted. Very tempted.

“Ah a lovely set. Baroque features in the detailing. Could do with a possible restoration, but a proper clean would also suffice.”

You fingered the tag again, it was a hundred dollars.

“Tell ya what. I’ll knock off ten bucks. How does that sound?”

You looked at him then.

“You don’t think I don’t know the look of someone finding an item they can’t walk away from? Darlin’ you got that look. You got it bad.”

It was just a picture frame. A dumb little picture frame, but why did it give you so much joy to look at? You weren’t much of a haggler and it would seem rude to haggle the price after he had already generously knocked off ten percent.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal.”

He shook your hand. “Excellent.”

He picked up the item and very carefully began meandering his way back to the counter with you following him. He set the item down gently and rung up the purchase.

“Such a pretty little find. And it was a shame that it had been hiding in a box, before coming here.”

You gave him a quizzical look and he held up a hand before disappearing into the back for a few moments and coming back with a small wooden box. He placed it on the counter in front of you. Your hands reached out towards it. The wooden box looked plain compared to the delicate and intricate detailing on the frame. It was finished with a dark varnish and what was with the strange script etched into the grain? Was it Elvish, or Sanskrit, or even Latin? You had no idea. A simple clasp locked the box. Easy to use. Either way, now you had a keepsake box also.

“It’s my understanding that the original owner had passed away and his living relatives didn’t want it and, well here it is.”

“Well, it’s their loss.”

“Of course, of course. If they hadn’t, then you never would have found it.”

He took your cash and then handed you the receipt. He bid you a good rest of your day as you lifted the box and the picture frame and made your way out of the store.

*

You placed the final photo in the frame. Slid the locks, and placed the frame on your sideboard, angling it so you could appreciate it all that little bit more. You sighed in contentment as three of your favourite fictional men smiled seemingly at you from beside your TV.

The door knocked and by the light raps you knew who it was. This time, you sighed heavily and muttered “God, give me strength” before going to open the door. You’d only opened it a crack before she started to barge her way in.

“Y/N, honestly, what are you wearing? Pyjama’s during daytime? I don’t know. Go put on some proper clothes.”

You looked down. Now you were annoyed. It was loungewear for God’s sake. Perfectly acceptable.

“Mother, what I’m wearing should be of no concern to you and its just gone five, and it’s a Saturday.”

She sniffed and made her way into your lounge. She tutted at the clutter.

“Don’t you ever tidy up?”

You rolled your eyes and sat down. “What did you come here for? To pick faults or was there an actual reason?”

“Your father—”

“Not my father.” You stated.

Your mother had married her partner not long after your father’s passing and now, she acted as though he had been in your life since birth.

She continued, like you hadn’t interrupted her.

“—and I have been talking. You know that nice young man that started last year, Cole—"

“Wait, you’re not seriously trying to set me up?”

Your mother looked a little put out.

“Well, it can’t hurt to get back out there. Get back on the horse or so to speak.”

You sat there shocked. Then it turned to anger.

“Are you ashamed of me? Are you ashamed that your one and only daughter is a divorcee!”

“Ashamed, no. Disappointed, yes.”

It was like a punch to the gut and the hurt stabbed at your heart. You’d suspected your mother had opinions on your divorce but to voice her disappointment a year and a half after finalization felt like a kick in the teeth. It left you speechless.

“Is that new? I have to say I don’t think it goes with the room. Who are those men? Are they from your shows? Honestly Y/N. I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

Your mother had continued to ramble on whilst you were still reeling from her comment. At that moment your all black cat slinked in, jumping up and made her way over to your mother’s lap.

“If you’re not careful, this is your future.” She said nodding to the cat.

You looked at her then.

“I think you should leave, mother.”

She turned her head, facing you. She looked like a goldfish with the way her mouth kept opening and closing. Then her lips pursed together, and she stood, with the cat leaping from her. She made a disgusted sound, discovering the amount of cat hair had malted on her. You handed her a nearby lint brush, and she furiously started scrubbing at the hair on her skirt. She then stood and bid you a good evening and purposefully walked to the door. Your mother didn’t wait, slamming the door on her way out. You scrubbed your hand down your face muttering about her audacity.

*

You plonked yourself on the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The cat had been fed and was currently God knows where, doing its own thing.

Halfway through Family Feud, a loud crash from what sounded like your kitchen alerted you. Your laugh cut short and Steve Harvey poked fun at a contestant's absurd answer, laughing on the screen. You jumped up, abandoning the snacks and ran to see the destruction, cussing your cat out along the way.

You stormed into the room ready to reem your pesky feline, grabbing a broom, threatening the extinction of treats for the rest of his life. But what you saw had you stopping in your tracks. Words died on your tongue. And what you saw, there was no rhyme or reason to it. In fact, it should have been physically impossible.

Dean Winchester stood in your kitchen, holding a case of pie.

[yaeggravate]

THEORY: KAEYA IS HALF-SEELIE

Back by unpopular demand: Seelie Kaeya theory.

I have already talked about this before, many, many times, but I wanted to gather all my jumbled thoughts from the past few months into one proper post along with some new revelations that further support the theory.

I just want to clarify first that I don't like abandoning the narrative in favor of a theory. I wouldn't be constantly trying to push for this if I wasn't at least 80% sure.

Kaeya is my favorite character in the whole game, but I am well aware of the limitations being put on his character…

…Unless 5-star Kaeya comes through for us, that is.

*UPDATE: added a section on Arlecchino 🥳 (4.6 spoilers)

**added more info about Nicole (4.7)

Apologies for the long read but I had to make it as thorough as possible, you understand.

INDEX

1. Seelie = Angels 2. Connections to Seelie and the Jinn 3. Midsummer Night's Dream 4. Nicole Reeyn 5. Arlecchino 6. Visual Similarities and Characteristics 7. Perinheri

SEELIE = ANGELS

Seelie are equated to angels in the game. The floating eyeball versions are even modeled after a type of sea slug called Sea Angels. In case you need more evidence than that:

Nabu Malikata is a Seelie survivor. Her last name Malikata can be derived from malayikata ملائكة which means angels/messengers in Arabic.

The Jinn were created from Nabu Malikata's blood, they are referred to as the "descendants of Seelie" in the world quest "The Falcon's Hunt".

Seelie were heavenly envoys who would deliver messages from Celestia to humans. Nabu Malikata even refers to them as the "fallen envoys of heaven", after they were cast down.

So, if you ever happen to spot the phrase "heavenly/divine envoys", they are actually referring to the Seelie.

As for what they may have looked like, the Mural Room in Dragonspine features a depiction of an envoy with wings and what looks like horns or a crown on its head. Translated from Latin, the text next to it is as follows:

Fidelis angeli iuvant The angels help the faithful

Seelie are guides who reward humans with treasure after they lead them back to their Seelie courts. Simply put, they are returning a favor. Who else do we know of who is obsessed with favors?

ANGELS GEORG

The Seelie Kaeya has a bunch of notable connections to angels, the more you start to look for them the more you notice.

According to Kaeya's character story A List, he owns a book called The Adventures of Angelos, in which he keeps a list of names. Angelos, of course, means angel.

Between the pages of "The Adventures of Angelos," you find a list of names written on a sheet of official Knights of Favonius letterhead paper.

Kaeya's favorite haunt is Angel's Share. The logo for Angel's Share is two angels drinking from a wine glass. Angel's Share was established by Dawn Winery, where Kaeya was left at for unknown reasons. According to Diluc's character story, Crepus told him the following:

"The world would never turn its back on the faithful."

This is reminiscent of the mural in Dragonspine: "The angels help the faithful."

Furthermore, the teacups used to represent the mage Nicole can be found in Dawn Winery. Nicole is known as the "guide who never gets lost" and there is one teacup missing in the trailer. We'll get back to that piece of porcelain later.

It's possible that Dawn Winery had some dealings with the Seelie or that it was established by them. Remember Crepus owned a Delusion which means he must have had ties to the Fatui. We know of one character who is both Seelie and Fatui: Columbina.

Columbina is most likely a Seelie since the decorations in her hair match perfectly with the decoration on the Seelie courts. The character of Columbina is also known as a fairy-like dancer; fairies is what the Seelie are in popular culture… (More on that later.)

In the third volume of the book Drunkard's Tale, a lone wolf meets a Seelie survivor who is singing in an unfamiliar language. This Seelie is speculated to be Columbina. The Seelie is adressed as Maiden with the same characters in Chinese as Columbina's other title Damselette.

少女 = Damselette / Maiden

Curiously enough, this particular volume of the book can be found in Dawn Winery.

Kaeya's favorite drink is Death After Noon. This is based on the real drink "Death in the Afternoon", which famously contains absinthe. In the Book of Revelation, Apsinthion, or Wormwood, is the name of an angel or star who fell to earth.

The Abyss Mages chant in Enochian which is the language of the angels. They use this language when they regenerate their shields and to control the Hilichurls. The Abyss Order mostly consists of former Khaenri'ahns.

When Kaeya spots the Abyss Mage back in the Temple of the Wolf, it speaks to him in Enochian. They even added a subtitle to highlight its importance.

Kaeya: There's no way hilichurls organized an ambush like this themselves — not with their limited mental capacity… (A Hydro Abyss Mage reveals itself) Kaeya: Thus YOU were behind this. Hydro Abyss Mage: Gohus, Chiso Vonph.

Kaeya claims he's blessed with certain linguistic powers when the Paimon asks him how he gathered information about the Abyss Twin.

Paimon: What exactly did you have to do to find this out!? Kaeya: Heh… Let's just say I'm blessed with certain linguistic powers.

In the manga, it was implied Kaeya was able to read an unfamiliar script that not even Lisa, the Akademiya's best student in two hundred years, could understand.

We don't know where Kaeya lived beforehand but he might have lived in the Dark Sea. The Dark Sea is not a literal sea but any place outside of the rule of the Seven. Think Enkanomiya and possibly Khaenri'ah.

Kaeya: But, as you can see, this is but a deserted land. Based on previous experience, I decided that it would be best to wait for contact.

In the Midsummer Island event, Kaeya says he's been stranded on an island before, and in typical Kaeya fashion does not elaborate. (This might be connected to the Nameless Island, which Kaeya visited on his birthday.) Venti alludes Kaeya might have come from the Dark Sea, by the poem he gives him:

Venti: "Majestic waves cresting, surf roaring its tale, none but the ocean to hear as I sing." Venti: "The stars in my eyes as I chart toward the horizon, that into one day, from the endless dome of night I shall spring."

Palaces of the Seelie can be found in one particular ruin of the Dark Sea: Drunkard's Tale, where the Seelie maiden was situated. (AKA Columbina)

This wasteland is said to be a land beyond the dominion of the deities, inhabited only by the grotesque ghostly remains of fallen gods, where the former palaces of the Seelie now stand empty.

In the Veluriyam Mirage event, Kaeya starred in a play written by Zosimos. According to Idyia, Zosimos based the play on a rumor he heard about a thief and a mage, meaning there might be some truth to it. He then combined the story with Idyia's backstory.

Kaeya's character, the unnamed dagger bandit, follows a shooting star, which turns out to be a woman. The dagger bandit is most likely meant to be someone related to Kaeya, since he hailed from a dark realm and his vision is modified to look like an 8-pointed star (as per Zosimos's design). The dark realm could very well be Khaenri'ahn.

As it turns out, Zosimos's namesake Zosimos the alchemist, claimed fallen angels were the ones who taught humans the art of metallurgy.

The ancient and divine writings say that the angels became enamoured of women; and, descending, taught them all the works of nature. From them, therefore, is the first tradition, chema, concerning these arts; for they called this book chema and hence the science of chemistry takes its name.

…Yeah, I don't think it's a coincidence the play Kaeya starred in was written by this specific guy 😮‍💨

Maybe we're meant to equate the fallen star with a fallen angel. Whoever this fallen star and dagger bandit are, is unknown, but I think we can safely assume it has something to do with Kaeya's family and/or Khaenri'ah's deeper lore.

Kaeya's constellation is a peacock. Peacocks have countless eyes just like how angels are popularly depicted. In Renaissance art, angels are even portrayed with peacock wings.

The description of Kaeya's friendship namecard in CN implies he has many Augen. 👁

孔雀漂亮尾羽上的花纹很像是永不闭上的眼睛。所以凯亚并非少了一只眼睛、而是··· The patterns on the beautiful tail feathers of a peacock resemble eyes that never close. So Kaeya isn’t missing an eye, but…

And then it just trails off. I think it’s meant to say: "Kaeya isn’t missing an eye, rather he has many of them."

Perhaps they were being literal.

The Jinn In his hangout, Kaeya gifts the Traveler a lamp said to have housed a powerful Jinni. As said before Jinn are descendants of the Seelie.

The people turned against each other, and the Jinn scattered across the lands… Broken souls became fuel to a titanic machine, and the mindless descendants of the Seelie were degraded into slaves of infinite power…

In comparison to other companion gifts, who are connected to their item in some way, Kaeya's gift stands out as an outlier… unless it is a surprise tool that can help us understand him later.

He is also familiar with the tale of the Shepard and the Magic Bottle, although he changes the ending of the story as he recounts it to Klee. This book is about a Jinni who gets freed from a bottle...

From his hangout, we learn Kaeya owns a lucky coin that can allegedly do anything he wishes from it. He then goes on to say there's a pre-existing arrangement between them. Perhaps this coin has a Jinni fragment inside of it similar to Benben.

That would be the simple explanation… but nothing is ever simple with Kaeya.

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

Now onto the most damning piece of evidence. Kaeya himself is based on the changeling baby from Midsummer Night's Dream. Oberon is the Fairy King, whose name is the French derivative of Alberich.

This checks out as Oberon was also an important figure from the Merovingian Dynasty that included names such as Chlothar and Caribert.

Titania is the Fairy Queen, who adopted her scion's baby after she died in childbirth. This baby was the son of an Indian king, in other words, an Indian prince.

In today's popular culture, Titania is the Queen of the Summer Court, also known as the Seelie Court.

Most literature, folklore, and pop-culture interpretations of faerie depict Titania as the actual leader of the Seelie Fey, she often rules the Summer Court.

Princess Fischl is also connected to this play, as she had created a Sommernachtgarten, or Summer Night Garden, that now lies in ruins in the domain Midsummer Courtyard.

Suddenly Kaeya and Fischl being featured in the Midsummer Island events start to make sense. I wouldn't be surprised if Fischl showed up again in this year's summer event.

How Kaeya and Princess Fischl are connected is still unclear but the possibility of them being related keeps growing. Whatever the case, the Indian prince's (adoptive) mom being a Seelie Queen is pretty straightforward.

"But isn't he adopted? That means he isn't a Seelie!" Yes, but remember Oberon, Titania's husband, is Alberich who Kaeya IS related to.

It's hard to tell what direction they're going in, but I have no doubt Kaeya is half-something, because the other character he is based on is Hagen, who is always half-Human, with the other part being either dwarf or elf.

With all the angel/Seelie/Jinn connections, I think we can guess what Kaeya's other half is.

Before I forget: Oberon and Titania fought over the child; Oberon wanted the boy to become a knight, his henchman, but Titania refused as she felt obligated to raise him in his mother's stead. Unfortunately, Oberon succeeded in getting Titania to hand over the child, as he had trapped her in a dream-like state...

Another fun thing I discovered is that the title of the trailer Winter Night's Lazzo is a reference to Midsummer Night's Dream as well.

An explanation for this could be that aside from the aforementioned Seelie, there exist a darker counterpart, the Unseelie, which has its roots in Scottish folklore.

The most common courts from traditional legends are the Seelie or Summer Court, and the Unseelie or Winter Court.

In popular culture, the Unseelie Court is the Winter Court ruled by the Queen of Air and Darkness: the sister of Titania. This Winter Queen seems to be unnamed but I've found some call her Mab, another reference to one of Shakespeare's plays.

Did you know they probably named Snezhnaya after the fairy tale of the Snow Queen, which is Snezhnaya Koroleva in Russian? Snow Queen, Winter Queen, Tsaritsa... The shoe fits 🤷🏽‍♀️

In Genshin, there is no mention of any Unseelie yet, but if the Seelie are like angels, then the Unseelie might be the equivalent of fallen angels or demons. Well, we shall see how that plays out.

Back to Titania, she was a fairy who adopted her friend's son after she passed away. Is there is a character who could fulfill this role for Kaeya, acting as some kind of guardian angel?

NICOLE REEYN

Nicole is a witch of the Hexenzirkel, known as Mage "N". She is a powerful prophet capable of divining the fate of the world.

She is also a teacup.

Alice says Nicole is the guide who never gets lost and that she is obsessed with guiding people. That's literally Seelie 101!

Alice: The "guide who will never get lost" is N, otherwise known as Nicole. You may have not encountered her yet, but she is a truly extraordinary woman who has made this world's direction and order her subject of study. Alice: Some of you may be fortunate enough to have already heard her voice. Like a prophetess, she will only speak to guide people toward the truth when a change has occurred in the world. Alice: She has a tendency to… suddenly speak in someone's mind without any warning.

New dialogue from Wolfy, the stuffed toy from Imaginarium Theater, pretty much confirms Nicole is a Seelie. He talks about a "Boar" Tribe, where the "boars" did bad things and were punished by their Master.

Wolfy: The master took out a rusted set of scales, and told the boars to stack their own things on both sides. If the scales tipped to one side, they could leave.

The boars who gave up their heads turned into animals like wolves, snakes and lizards and the boars who gave up their muscle became rabbits, instinctively guiding people to treasure. Guiding people to treasure is the number one job of the Seelie husks.

Loading Screen Now you see them; now you don't. Once a mighty race that lived to guide mankind, now the most Seelie offer is a little treasure to willing followers.

However, there was one boar who placed their head and muscle evenly on both sides of the scale, which caused it to break in the middle. This "boar" is Nicole.

Wolfy: And so she became a mute person — for she had placed her voice upon the scales as well. Wolfy: She is also a friend of Madame Mage, and I hear she likes to speak in people's heads!

The witch pictured on this slide from the Hexenzirkel teaser is most likely Nicole since it immediately cuts to her teacups.

She is blowing away wind similar to depictions of wind deities. The accompanying subtitle even is "sometimes, we all need to vent our troubles to the wind". This could mean Nicole is some kind of air spirit…or a Seelie, who were once "faster than a storm" according to the Aranara.

Furthermore, Nicole losing her voice, or perhaps giving it up, is reminiscent of the fairy tale The Little Mermaid, written by Hans Christian Anderson, Anderdottir's inspiration. In the book, the mermaid sacrifices her voice to become human. However she fails to uphold the condition and dies, which turns her into an air spirit.

Perhaps she's a Seelie, or a descendant of the Seelie, similar to the Jinn. In the Danish opera Holger Danske, Titania is the Queen of the Sylphs, who are air spirits. We don't have Sylphs mentioned verbatim in the game yet, aside from Venti being an air spirit.

Kaeya conveniently has several references to the wind.

He is dubbed the Frostwind Swordsman, his outfit is called Icy Featherflight, his OTHER outfit is Sailwind Shadow, his sixth constellation is Glacial Whirlwind, and he has a passive that decreases stamina consumption…

Noelle even describes him as someone who comes and goes with the wind.

As mentioned in the previous section, Kaeya was stranded on a deserted island, this might be referring to the Nameless Island, which, according to an old blog post on the official CN website, Kaeya visited on his birthday. Where this island came from is unclear but it is shrouded in mist and invisible on the map.

The Nameless Island has a sun-or moondial associated with the God of Time. The weathered transcription is as follows:

Ravaged Carving: "Stories brought on the wind will bloom into legends in due time."

You can also hear this faint voice speaking when you do the quest related to the island:

Faint Voice: "An ancient tale comes whisked in the wind…" Faint Voice: "In time, it will grow and sprout once again…"

In the same blog post, Kaeya says the following:

我还有很多故事…还有很多时间。 I have plenty of stories… and plenty of time.

😮‍💨

When Kaeya casts his burst you even see him pull the wind towards himself, towards that eight-pointed star.

Furthermore, he came to Mondstadt during a LATE SUMMER NIGHT'S STORM, contradicting the fact that there hasn't been a single storm in Mondstadt since Venti gave them his protection.

Kaeya's Character Story "If Master Crepus hadn't taken me in, I doubt I'd have made it through the storm that night."

Vind: Since Lord Barbatos began protecting Mondstadt, we have not seen a single storm, and the watchtowers have slowly fallen into disrepair.

He probably wasn't lying about this since Varka could have easily fact-checked this with Diluc or Dawn Winery.

Perhaps Nicole was responsible for this odd contradiction if she was the one who guided Kaeya and his father to Dawn Winery. Coincidentally, the Jinni Liloupar was able to command sandstorms at her will.

Liloupar once had the immense power to command sandstorms at her will. The howling gale that lashes the desert used to be the blade and shield at her disposal.

Since the Jinn are descendants of the Seelie, perhaps Nicole could have a similar power. (Or maybe she became a giant wind turbine, who even knows anymore.)

"But why would a witch go through all this trouble for just one guy?" If Titania took care of her friend's baby after she died, then maybe Nicole was friends with Kaeya's mom and decided to offer her protection.

Or perhaps they were sisters. There is after all a teacup from the same teaset missing from the trailer.

Let's just get this out of the way first: No, Nicole is not Diluc's mom, the pattern on the teacups can be found within the architecture of Dawn Winery, which means she's either the founder or an ancestor of Crepus or both. Angel's Share is named as such for a reason.

Diluc does not possess any huge Seelie/fairy/angel/witch connections other than Angel's Share so I don't think she's related to him. Kaeya on the other hand 🤷🏽‍♀️

I am not going to say anything about the possibility of Nicole being Kaeya's mom, but I will say that Nicole's name means "Victory of the people", while the first character in Kaeya's name means victory as well.

Nicole = from νίκη (níkē, “victory”) +‎ λαός (laós, “people”). Kaeya = 凯亚, 凯 = music of triumph; paean; triumph; victory

And please don't forget the poor missing teacup next to Nicole's, it is no doubt going to be important.

Anyway, Kaeya does have some serious connections to Princess Fischl, with hints at him being a Prince continuing to persist, so he's definitely not some random guy. Whether he's aware of this or not is debatable.

He's called "our last hope", by his father, which like everything pertaining to Kaeya, is never explained. However, the Aranara Aranaga describes hope as a dream that never dissipates… A Midsummer Night's Dream if you will 😉

Aranaga: There are dreams because there is memory. Memory is nourished, so there is life. So, it can grow, the thing to repel Marana (forbidden knowledge). Traveler: I'm guessing you mean "hope"? Aranaga: Yeah, right you are, Golden Nara (Traveler). The thing that flows, cannot be seen, cannot be touched… Hope. Like the wind… But it never dissipates, like a dream.

Nabu Malikata Nicole has some fascinating similarities with Nabu Malikata that I will briefly list here:

Nabu Malikata last name can mean angels but it can also mean queen. Nicole Reeyn's last name is derived from reine which also means queen.

"Nabu" means prophet in Akkadian and she was able to predict her own death, Nicole is a prophetess too.

After Nabu Malikata disappeared, Deshret dreamed of her feeling her way through a crystalline maze. The inside of Irminsul is a crystalline maze. Nicole is part of the Hexenzirkel who travel to the Irminsul to study it.

Nabu Malikata is the Mistress of the Orchard and Wine, Nicole has ties to Dawn Winery, a wine orchard.

Nabu Malikata is also a dream-mother, capable of giving humans dreams. According to Furina's character blurb, Nicole left a fabel inside someone's dream.

I can't say they're the same person but this is one of those things that will keep haunting you once you uncover it. And now they will haunt you.

ARLECCHINO

Enter "Father".

What we know of her so far is that she is the last surviving descendant of Khaenri'ah's Crimson Moon clan. Arlecchino's blood is cursed, yet unlike the other curse-bearers we know like Dainsleif and Chlothar, she still ages visibly. Before we get ahead of ourselves, it's specifically stated in her boss description that she IS the Crimson Moon's SOLE scion, so Kaeya is likely not part of that bloodline.

Someday, the hearth-fire's faint radiance shall burn the old world away, incinerating the final scion of the baleful moon as well.

I think we all know by now that Arlecchino has some angelic features.

Like Kaeya, she is associated with an animal with many eyes: a spider. And like Kaeya, she wears one prominent wing on her back but only when she is in battle. This wing is actually crafted by her from spider silk, so it's not actually an "organic" wing.

Arlecchino shares boss theme lyrics with the most famous one-winged angel in recent history: Sephiroth (FF7). They are both in turn inspired by Abezethibou, a fallen angel with one red wing. The interesting thing about Sephiroth is that he was born from an experiment, where they injected cells from an alien "calamity" into him when he was still a fetus. This led him to develop the iconic one black wing.

Furthermore, the title of Arlecchino can be traced back to the Erlking, an evil elf who could kill children with just one touch. Arlecchino does seem to be somewhat inspired by him as seen in this comparison.

Erlking means Elf King which just so happens to be the meaning of Alberich (Elf King). 🤨 There's even a dude straight up called Alf (elf) in the Perinheri book.

In the Romance-speaking world, beings comparable to elves are widely known by words derived from Latin fata ('fate'), which came into English as fairy. This word became partly synonymous with elf by the early modern period.

😑…

Since the Balemoon Bloodfire that runs through Arlecchino's veins originates from the long-dead Crimson Moon, it's possible that either the moons are angels or they were the ones who created them. The Seelie must have come into existence somehow; it would make sense for them to originate from the Moon Sisters.

The moons would not be as low-ranked as the Seelie-angels, they'd most likely be akin to Archangels/other higher ranked angels. Luckily for us, Mona's astrolabe conveniently uses the names of 4 Archangels.

(From the Wiki) Mona's astrolabe (Outer ring): GBL URL MKL RPL The archangels Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, and Raphael.

…It is unknown who they are referring to but since she is using her astrolabe to divine someone's fate they're probably the names of the three Moon Sisters + Sun. (We can't be sure yet if the Four Shades are the Moon Sisters/Sun so I will refrain from making that assumption until we know more.)

Arlecchino has another weird ability: her blood can create afterimages or shadows which appear like this around her in her boss fight:

These look awfully similar to the Pari in-game, and Pari just so happen to be like fairies in Persian mythology. Arlecchino's nickname was even Perrie, which is probably a pun on Peri, the inspiration behind the Pari.

In the game, the Pari are sentient beings of Khvarena, which in turn was separated from Nabu Malikata's body. As it happens, Khvarena can also dwell inside humans, these people are called the scions of Khvarena. (More on that here where I proposed Kaeya's mom might have been one of these scions.)

Stamen of Khvarena's Origin Nabu Malikata: "And so I separated you (Khvarena) from my body, and I ask you now to prevent that nightmare's coming."

No doubt about it: Arlecchino is carrying the bloodline of a (dead) moon angel…thing. Maybe all Khaenri'ahns are descendants of angels, but it's hard to say for now if they inherited it through normal means, or if the Crimson Moon clan used a ritual to transmute their blood. According to the book Perinheri, the Crimson Moon dynasty was deeply involved with alchemy, though it fell off by the time of the Eclipse Dynasty.

(Perhaps they even used the Moon's remains (ashes) to achieve this. Maybe that's why Arlecchino glitches: she was "re-born" from the "afterimage" (ashes) of the Crimson Moon.)

Combined with Zosimos's play implying the fallen star was a fallen angel, Khaenri'ahns could very well be descendants of fallen angels. In that case, they could be like the Nephilim, who are descendants of humans and fallen angels. Nephilim is often translated as giants or the fallen ones, which is very funny considering the meaning of Titania's name (Titan).

Speaking of Titania… In Arlecchino's teapot voicelines she talks about an opera called The Unexpected Dream. Unclear if this is referring to thee Midsummer Night's Dream, but given what we know of this game and its apparent obsession with the play, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume it is.

The name Titania for the queen of the fairies appears to have been the invention of Shakespeare, for, as Mr. Ritson remarks, she is not "so called by any other writer." Why, however, the poet designated her by this title, presents, according to Mr. Keightley, no difficulty. "It was," he says, "the belief of those days that the fairies were the same as the classic nymphs, the attendants of Diana. The Fairy Queen was therefore the same as Diana whom Ovid (Met. iii. 173) styles Titania."

Also, scholars suggest Shakespeare's Titania is ultimately referring to the moon goddess Diana, so make of that what you will. There's even a part in the play where Titania looks up at the moon and likens it to a crying eye… Another fun fact: on Tsurumi island, there's a mural from the ancient civilization ruins that references a poem about Diana by the Latin poet Catullus.

In any case, Arlecchino basically adds fuel to the theory that Khaenri'ahns might be the descendants of angels/Seelie. Though whether they inherited it naturally, through snorting up moon ashes or making deals with suspicious purple crystals remains to be seen. The Balemoon Bloodfire is dubbed a "noble blood" which means the Crimson Moon clan was regarded as nobility. Just another thing Arlecchino and Kaeya have in common.

This poses another conundrum for Kaeya though: if it's his Khaenri'ahn father who gave him his supposed "angel" ancestry as opposed to his mother, we're still left with the mystery of where he got his royal heritage from. Nobility ≠ royalty.

The Alberichs weren't of royal blood, we know this, yet Kaeya's prince-baiting adventure continues, same as it ever was 😮‍💨

BREATH OF THE FEYWILD

This is the fun part where I list similarities between Kaeya and the Seelie, from his design to his personality.

Visual Design As you know, Kaeya has a giant wing on his back with three feathers. (Funnily enough the pattern on the outer border is the same as the sun- or moondial on the Nameless Island 😑)

No one else has wings on their outfit other than Paimon and Skirk who has a tiny one on her back. Arlecchino has one wing that only appears in battle or during her charged attack. Seelie courts have a little wing emblem and that angel in the Dragonspine Mural has a stylized wing.

Kaeya has one eye and wears a fluffy boa, same as the Seelie husks we see floating around. Though Kaeya doesn't have two horns, the peacock on his namecard does have two little feathers on its head.

Also, the Seelie emblem on the domain murals look similar to the 8-pointed star on Kaeya's outfit. The downward point is elongated which could represent the cone-shaped legs the Seelie husks have.

Seelie and their beauty keep being equated to moonlight… Kaeya is canonically called good-looking in-game, and has unexplained lightstreaks in his hair.

He also ordered a Moonlit Alley in his hangout (with Venti present) and gifted the Traveler a Moon Pie for his most recent birthday😒. Surely of no importance whatsoever.

Personality I am basing this on the known Seelie we have in the game: Nabu Malikata, Columbina, and Angelica (from the book Perinheri).

First of, Seelie were guides of humanity, and taught them wisdom and language.

Arama: A Seelie? In the ancient stories, Seelies were a great race with wisdom and beauty beyond the pale of this earth. They traveled with Nara (humans) and taught Nara languages and the philosophy of nature.

… In his teapot dialogue, Kaeya offers to put together a guide for the Traveler when they ask for his wisdom.

Traveler: Can I rely on your words of wisdom in the future? Kaeya: I'm at your service. In fact… would you like me to compile a guide for you…? Kaeya: It would contain all kinds of practical knowledge for at home and on the road, including the techniques I have developed for communicating with people from all walks of life. I'd like to share it all with you.

Kaeya acts as a teacher for Klee giving her advice on how to dodge the authorities (Jean) and whatnot.

Speaking of dodging, as stated previously, Seelie were said to be faster than a storm, and Kaeya has a passive called Hidden Strength that decreases stamina consumption. He's actually one of the fastest running characters-gameplay wise.

The loading screen description for Seelie says the following;

Now you see them, now you don't.

Finally an explanation for Kaeya's ability to teleport in his normal attacks. It's just as Noelle said, he comes and goes with the wind.

In Scottish folklore Seelie will ask humans for help and give them a reward in return. In his Story Quest, Kaeya does the same, asking the Traveler for help and gifting them a sword for their efforts. Yes, it was a trap but he did do all of that, and in his Story Quest no less! Story Quests are designed as a glimpse into the character's life….

Wait a minute, he led them into a trap. Where have I heard that before?

Angelica! The woman from the book Perinheri is very obviously an angel (HER NAME LITERALLY GIVES IT AWAY) and thus potentially a Seelie, or at least someone belonging to the angel hierarchy.

Angelica led Hleobrant on with promises and then led him into a trap, not unlike what Nabu Malikata did to Deshret. She knew she was going to die and used his feelings for her to make sure she would never be forgotten.

Furthermore, if a Seelie is insulted they will exact revenge on those who wronged them.

Diluc: Yes… about Kaeya… Diluc: I should have known he would see this as the perfect opportunity to get back at me.

Dude pulled up the Wikipedia page on Seelie 😭😭😭.

Another thing about Kaeya is that he will collect the fears and sensitivities of people as material to tease them about. …In the Harbingers trailer, Columbina teases Dottore about his age, knowing full well he's sensitive about it.

Columbina: I must say, you're looking very young today, Doctor Dottore: You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment

Wanderer describes Columbina as someone who is eerily unbothered and unfazed in every situation.

About Damselette Let me ask: what should you do if you were to encounter a "damsel" who is oblivious and innocent at any given time, and unconcerned and unfeeling in any given situation? If it were me, I could at least challenge her to a fight. But if it were you… with your conscience, I would stay away from her.

In his character story, Kaeya is described as having a cavalier attitude which in that context means, "showing arrogant or offhand disregard; dismissive", since he put the lives of his men in danger by triggering a Ruin Guard 😂. They hate to see a whimsical guy winning.

Character Story 5 Sinister thoughts flashed through Kaeya's mind, and he simply smirked: "This world is truly… fascinating."

You can also see this in Crepus's famous death scene where he was standing in the back smirking Just according to keikaku.

According to Scara, Columbina appears to be oblivious, though whether she's feigning or not remains to be seen. Kaeya has his own fair share of moments where he pretends to be in the dark.

Think the opposite of Furina who pretended to know everything.

He even acted like a "damsel" in need of help right of the bat in his Story Quest.

Kaeya: This is bad… Such a hassle… What am I going to do… Traveler: What's wrong, Kaeya? You don't usually lose your chill. Kaeya: Oh, thank the Thousand Winds! (Traveler), your arrival must be the grace of the gods! Kaeya: If I may ask — envoy sent by the Anemo God to save this mere mortal — could you spare a moment?

(Would be very fun if Columbina and Kaeya know each other from the dark recesses that is Kaeya's childhood and Kaeya is mimicking her behavior like some kind of mentee.)

Both Nabu Malikata and Columbina do not seem to possess human emotions which makes sense since they operate on a higher level than humans. Does make you wonder if Kaeya's occasionally strange behavior is a result of him being half-Seelie.

While not exactly a personality trait, Kaeya repeats some of Nicole's sayings which I thought was interesting.

Nicole: History does not change easily, but human hearts can. Kaeya: History always repeats itself. Kaeya: Anyway, that's exactly why actors need to wake up and realize they don't have to follow the script. There's nothing to stop them from following their gut and making it up as they go along.

As for why Kaeya would know this: find out in 2026 😂 (😭)

Venti Since fairies and air spirits are another potential branch of Kaeya's family tree we can consult the most prominent air spirit in the game: Venti.

Kaeya and Venti have a lot in common, personality wise. Both like alcohol, are mischievous, and have a very mellow attitude.

They also tend to disappear when we need lore the most.

This is very stereotypical of how fairies are portrayed. Down to their love of wine and penchant to pull pranks.

Is Venti some kind of Seelie? Well, he does have wings, and he was a single thread of the thousand winds which represent freedom… Freedom, just like Angelica.

Play within a play In Midsummer Night's Dream, the fairies toy with the humans like dolls. It's their meddling that causes all the mishaps in the play. They even call Oberon the King of Shadows, with shadows referring to the fairies as well as being Elizabethan slang for actors.

[…] even within this fictional world [Shakespeare] has created, the human characters are still treated as plot devices, pawns to be manipulated and directed across the play by the faeries.

If you've read the manga, you know where this is going.

If not:

“All the world's a stage, and all the people merely players – Kaeya Alberich”

–William Shakespeare

Kaeya has more instances where he treats people like they are fulfilling a role: in his outfit description he talks about the bandit and the knight as roles they have to fulfill. When he first meets the Traveler, he applauds like he just witnessed a performance. In Diluc's Story Quest, he breaks the fourth wall by mentioning the chapter of the Story Quest he's in.

Paimon: Kaeya!? Where did you come from? Kaeya: I just picked a good spot to quietly sit and watch the show. Paimon: Whaaa… You've been here this whole time!?

BECAUSE HE COMES AND GOES LIKE THE WIND KEEP UP PAIMON

And after Crepus's death he ponders on the roles he should have played: that of a son and that of a brother.

Very normal behavior…FOR A SEELIE.

You see, Deshret and Nabu Malikata created a City for the Jinn, called the City of Amphitheaters… where they had theaters 😮‍💨

Altar of Mirages The Jinn once used this place as a free theater and a paradise without sorrow or care.

Princess Fischl also introduced theater to the paradise of the Immernachtreich where her people would dedicate plays to her. (Don't underestimate how connected she is to all this!)

PERINHERI

In case you're unaware, a new book released in patch 4.5 called Perinheri has given us new Khaenri'ah lore. I'll only mention the bits relevant to the theory but it's definitely worth reading if you haven't already.

In the story, a woman named Angelica visits the "Kingdom" as a supposed Princess from some defeated nation. Angelica declares she will marry the greatest knight of the Kingdom and lists several names, one of which is Alberich, leader of half of the knights.

But that's not the interesting part.

Angelica leads Hleobrant outside the Kingdom's borders which causes him to transform into a beast. This is because he is cursed: his ancestors forsook their gods when they came to live at the Kingdom.

Angelica, however, bears no such curses as she explains:

The witch, Angelica, explained thus: "Hleobrant is the descendant of those who forsook their god and came to the Kingdom. This is why the Kingdom's obstinately pure-blooded aristocracy persists. This is the price of betraying your own god. As for you, Perinheri, you are one who drifted there. Thus, you bear no such curse. You may not have the nobility to shoulder a world, but you too have your own destiny. And as for me? I betrayed no one, not for a moment, until my god died, so I too bear this curse not. But you now see who I truly am, yes?"

Look. I don't think I need to spell this out but Angelica is an angel, her name is even explained to mean "one who is as a divine emissary", which, as we established before, are Seelie. Kaeya even has that stupid book The Adventures of Angelos which is obviously a hint towards whatever the fuck he is.

Angelos, Angelica…. Need I say more? 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

She also conveniently disappears at the end BECAUSE SHE COMES AND GOES LIKE THE WIND

Anyway, this could explain why Kaeya isn't cursed, his mother was a Seelie who never forsook her god. We don't know what the bloodline of Khaenri'ahns consists of… so I can't confidently say they are all descendants of angels. Kaeya definitely is though. You're still a Seelie and that's FINAL.

Otherwise I don't know how else you could explain all of the above.

If he's not a Seelie/angel or a descendant of one, then the only explanation I can think of is that he was blessed by one and is under their protection. Perhaps he was even raised by a bunch of them like the Indian prince from Shakespeare's play.

Maybe in some kind of Sommernachtgarten ☀️🌺

Or a Winter Palace 👸🏼❄️

Frost Prince, Sun Prince, Seelie Prince, whatever Kaeya might be, I will keep updating this post as we go along for the sake of the five people reading this 🫡.

It's like Shakespeare always said, it's Kaeya's world and we're all just living in it.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Dolthruk

More physical description than usual on this one, some of which I worry makes the creature a bit obvious, but we'll see how that plays out.

If you're not sure what any of this is about, please refer to https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

To see the entry the artists are working from, click here:

To see the one we're doing for next week, and possibly contribute your own work, click here:

Art below the cut.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) started with a platypus, then added some other influences to make the described size work. I think it came out quite well -- that is a solid depiction of what a platypus relative might look like if it were huge and terrifying.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has also given us something quite frightening -- I don't think I'd want to get near this one. Or see it in person. The inspirations for this design are pretty interesting -- I'd recommend checking them out in the linked post. And, if that distinctively-patterned hide looks familiar to you, that is addressed in the linked post as well. (Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@citrvsdrake (link to post here) also has a quite fearsome rendition, this one almost draconic -- in their post, they mention that they originally thought of some sort of river snake, but with armor and legs this becomes more of a dragon. I think it's a good dragon, too.

@pomrania (link to post here) also started with the idea of making a large, dangerous platypus, but went in a different direction, emphasizing scales and spikes. I like the serrated bill here; that's a nice touch.

@wendievergreen (link to post here) has instead drawn something adorable, noting that they decided to go in the opposite direction of what they suspected the animal was. I think it's delightful. For explanation of the inspirations for this design, and a close-up of the image, see the linked post. (Also, thank you for providing alt text -- and I think the banana thing is still funny too.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) brings the Beast Vibe back to "frightening" with this creation. Some fantastic work with the faces on both the Dolthruk and the fish, and of course I love the Stylized Plants... listen. Does anyone else think this looks like the cover of a really wild album? (Also, thank you for providing alt text.)

Anyway.

Aberdeen Bestiary says...

... no picture for you. It's not been cut out this time, they just didn't draw one. This section is more or less without illustrations, in fact. Maybe they considered it less important -- according to the bestiary's categorization system, this is a fish, actually. Sure, it has legs, but it lives in the water, what else do you want?

The Ashmole Bestiary, my backup illustration source, makes the same decision, but Bodley MS 764, my backup text source, does provide an illustration (and doesn't call it a fish).

Okay, so that's not a hugely realistic depiction, but it's probably not completely shocking to say that this is the crocodile.

I was surprised not to see any reference to tears in the Aberdeen entry -- the concept of "crocodile tears" is popular in the bestiaries.

The bit about color that I redacted from the entry claims that the crocodile's name comes from crocus due to its saffron-colored hide (not in evidence in the above image). I don't think this is true -- both English words can be traced back through Latin to Greek, and they certainly sound similar, but it seems crocus is probably a loanword into Greek from somewhere in the Semitic language family (hard to say which language specifically), and thus unrelated to crocodile despite their shared elements.

[classificationhell]

How do Lucifer, Mourningstar and Fizzmodeus react to a reader with a breeding kink?

Oooo boy you just had to ask about the only ones that'd be actually capable of fulfilling that kink for you didn't you ya filthy sinner ;3 lol it's okay I get it

Lucifer is all for this kink, but um, if you really want a kid and it's not just sexy talk, then he's going to have to talk to you and Charlie. There's a bit more to it than just having sex. I think he'd have to perform some type of ritual or something, possibly drawing an ornate snake or apple above where a womb would be with his blood and chanting something in Latin or some infernal language invented at the beginning of time because why not that always seems like something that needs to be done lol also, candles and writing on the floor so it's almost like a summoning just well in order to summon you have to do the deed lol.

Mourningstar:

Oh, it was just some weird sexy talk? What is he doing with the knife? Don't worry he just wants to draw something on you with his blood. Why are there clones hastily working to draw things on the floor and bring in candles? It's just to enhance the ambiance, dear, nothing to worry about. Don't mind his muttering as he's thrusting inside you either. If you start feeling a bit sick a few weeks later, don't worry. He's sure he can get you to change your mind by the due date anyway. Oh, please don't be too mad babygirl after all, you were the one who brought it up first.

Fizz and Ozzy are into it. Whether it's just a sexy talk type thing or legitimate get you pregnant thing. Of course, any pregnancy would need to be when you're in peak physical and mental health, whatever that means. They'll both try with you all you want, and if you get pregnant well they get to try out a whole new list of kinks if you're the kind of pregnant that gets turned on at everything.

[rustytrident]

are demons fluent in most human world languages? or did they never care for them enough? because it would work so beautifully in both situations.

i have definitely seen this hc by someone before (pls help me find the user so i can properly credit them) but demon lords who just. their speech is a jumbled mix of demonic tongue, archaic latin, japanese, english and ancient greek and you can tell how they're feeling by the language they use. mammon yells some shit in vietnamese and asmo replies in portugese and you're sitting there like 🧍‍♀️because what are they talking about and why are they yelling when they're in the same room. ill probably make a "what the language your demon speaks the most says about him!" post at some point but yeah. so many possibilities so much inspiration.

but you wanna know what else is a possibility? demon lords who don't know batshit about languages. who just use charms or english to get by in the human world. who don't need languages other than the ones they speak natively so why would it matter if they learnt them or not. ... ....... yeah that is what they did believe before you came along and started speaking in your native tongue randomly when alone or startled or when the "other language" filter wasn't on properly. and they're not only enamoured by the way you're just so smart talented brilliant but also fucking upset because they don't want to use their magick on you, yet they want to understand what you're saying. and then solomon comes along. and of course solomon speaks like every language there is. and you start conversing in your native tongue and the mf cracks a joke!!! and you laugh!! how dare he!!! your demon men are not only offended they're also deeply wounded mc how dare you!!!

ah. the jealousy, the tea, the drama, the studying, the sweetness of hearing your demon say a badly accented and definitely foreign sounding "i love you" in your native tongue lord i will combust.

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

if you can, do you mind doing some toby and avery hcs??

toby and avery head canons

of course, i'd love to!! i'm literally so obsessed with them, and their story literally makes me sob. hope you like them <3. @catapparently helped.

i honestly may have read a fic about this on ao3, but toby got avery a music box that played her mom singing this lullaby when someone opened it. she cried for hours in his arms.

avery blames herself for what happened to toby and the blakes, and sometimes calls him to apologize profusely (even though he's already forgiven her). he assures her he still loves her and that she means the world to him.

they don't call or see each other often except for at galas and events that the blakes drag him to. they always sneak away (with the help of the hawthornes) so they have time to talk.

hannah would sometimes tell toby that they were going to be at like a bowling alley that day or smth, and he'd do his best to show up and watch her play and have fun. he would tear up at the life he wanted but could never have.

he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. she originally didn't want anyone to do it because she doesn't like the idea of your parent 'giving you away to someone', but when she realized who toby was and what he meant to her, that changed.

they visit hannah's grave together and just cry in each others arms. they'll tell each other what they miss most from the life they had before with her.

toby tells her about all the wild things hannah would say to him and how much she hated him at first. avery loves hearing him talk about her mother because he always sounds so in love.

toby will mail her little puzzles that he carved for her to solve. she always sends him picks of it when she's done.

avery regularly goes back to the spot where they used to eat after their chess games/where they used to play chess to feel closer to him.

toby calls her horrible girl and princess, and, when she has kids, he starts calling them horrible boy and princeps (princess in latin according to google translate) (i hc that aj have a daughter and a son)

toby gave avery the talk not because she needed it but bc he saw it as a classic father/daughter experience that he wanted to have with her.

toby wishes he was less of a coward when he was younger and actually took part in avery' life. he regrets not seeing her grow, take her first steps, her first day of school etc..

avery knows this and will sometimes send him videos her mom took of her when she was younger (we know she used to send him postcards sometimes but its not the same)

for his birthday, avery will head over to the blake's house (or wherever he's currently living), threaten the people who answer the door to let her in, and will spend a few minutes with him before she's forced to leave.

she sometimes gifts him things that used to belong to her mother

toby tried to teach her how to carve wood, but she could never get the hang of it. she tries her best and gifts him her attempts even if they suck. toby finds it very sweet and adorable.

avery has a really nice voice but doesn't like to sing bc it reminds her of her mom on her death bed (she used to ask avery to sing her her favorite songs before she died). toby loves her voice though so sometimes she'll suck it up and record a voice message of her singing.

they will send each other songs that remind them of the other.

toby has the best relationship advice (even though he's never really been in a relationship except for with hannah). when she's having trouble with jamie (very rare), she'll go to him IF possible (i literally say this in every post for like avery and grayson or nash, but i think it fits toby and avery best)

toby has an insta account avery doesn't know about that he uses to like and comment on each and every one of her posts.

toby watches all of the broadcasted events she attends, all of her interviews, etc. he's her biggest fan.

he knows she loves sushi so sometimes he'll order her some and get it delivered to her house on days where she's told him she's swamped with work.

avery's kids call him grandpa even though he's not actually their grandpa.

they love sending each other cryptic messages for the other to figure out.

they usually call each other late at night bc that's when the blakes are less likely to catch him. jamie will leave the room when this happens and let them talk.

after vincent blake died, he was more free to do whatever he wanted so he started visiting her more often. not all the time though because eve was still a pain in the ass.

avery has a bad habit of going to bed way to late and waking up way to early so toby will text to make sure she's getting sleep ('are you heading to bed, princess' or 'i hope you aren't still awake, horrible girl')

toby actually swears a lot and avery finds it hilarious. he starts to swear even more bc it makes her laugh.

toby loves sightseeing and will always be taking pictures of his favorite places (he travels a lot bc of the blakes). he sends her all of these pictures

toby tries to be cool and texts like gen z, and avery finds it absolutely traumatizing. she begs him to stop but it just eggs him on.

when avery wakes up from nightmares and has a panic attack, but doesn't want to wake up jamie, she'll call toby. he'll tell her to breathe with him and then will ask her if she's ok in a soft voice. then they'll hang up. she never talks about her nightmares and he never asks. this is literally what happens every time

toby is always sending her memes and dad jokes. she finds them embarrassing but cute at the same time.

[horizon-verizon]

Note after writing: so I poke my head up into Tumblr now that I've finished my cross-country move and can soon again indulge in essays and all the replies/drafts I've been putting off. I innocently engage in some passive scrolling until your Dany-Westeros comment tempts me into a quick ask comment, and THIS comes out? On my phone where I hate to edit/cut asks for later? Oops. Let this be an example of how for some reason you're very good at steering my rant interests. (And to think I started this one because I thought I didn't have time for the twilight one. We'll get there ;)

Thank-you for pointing out that Westeros needs Dany far more than she needs Westeros. I'm so tired of people acting like Westeros is the centre of that world when not even Dany sees it that way. Honestly, I don't think she's compatible with Westeros because I don't even really think the Targaryens (or general human health and happiness) were. We're hit over and over again with how Westeros will continually ostracize and blame the Other for their own problems (Rego Draz, Larra Rogare, Lady Serala who loves to prove that team smallfolk don't actually pay attention to the riverlands chapters or twoiaf over the wiki otherwise they'd question how F&B presents Mysaria and Rhaenyra. Actually all examples make a point about how F&B and team small folk treat Rhaenyra, that's why she's my current obsession). We're hit with all the other ways in how (ironically) "backwards" and xenophobic Westeros is. Not just in a "period accurate" way, but also in a way that seems excessive compared to the realms that surround them. Omens aside, I don't think that the Valyrians and pre-Conquest Targs having little interest aside from possibly wanting a certain kind of imperial influence via trade is supposed to mean nothing. (And i find it interesting how those "Westeros is the beacon of civilization and enlightment - no don't ask me how the Enlightment happened" stans are so quick to claim that the very slow-moving Freehold would have uber-colonized Westeros if not for their superstitions or possible knowledge and wariness of the weird magic of Westeros like the Others, BUT of course Aegon was definitely not motivated to conquer Westeros for that reason and definitely didnt believe that deeply in the forces that apparently were the one thing that kept the uber-dragon-reich from immediately invading...) because the Targaryen's biggest failure is their lack of connection to historic Valyria unless we're talking about how singularly evil they are in which case they are a direct continuation of all the bad parts and only the bad parts of the institution they only SEEMED alienated from. Also this is a trait that skips over certain good men to bad women and has concentrated in Dany because 1. These traits actually get stronger over time as they're passed like how pesticides build up more in owls than in their prey and 2. because men DO culture but women EMBODY culture and bad woman embody the bad parts.

Right. Westeros's relative irrelevance outside of the Long Night. GRRM himself has pointed out how the Freehold resembled the EARLY Roman Republic and their contract system. Valyrians tended to conquer preexisting power structures, leave it relatively intact, and extract tribute, rather than (with exceptions of course) going full Andal (Or Rome to Celtic Europe) settler-colonial assimilation mode. Because I won't stop pointing out that the Valyria/Essos parallels to Rome are limited to the early days and then solely to the "Oriental" half and subsequent conquests by other empires like the Ottomans - especially the Ottomans you can't change my mind - and that any parallel to later Occidental Rome and the Western Roman settler-colonialism-to-slave-plantation-to-feudalism pipeline belongs to Westeros. Especially since the one "off" part of this division, Valyrian fuctioning like Latin across Essos, can be explained by GRRM outright admitting that linguistics is a weak spot of his and he didn't give it much thought.

That the Conquerors took Westeros with three dragons while the Freehold showed no interest for millennia should say something about Westeros's relevance and desirability. That the snooty blood-purist Valyrians (whose far flung survivors' ideologies around their blood and current attitudes towards it were definitely not altered by the destruction of their mother civilization and decimation of population, nor was there any possible practical or pragmatic aspect relating to magic because all civilizations are like whi- Andals but in ways that are recognizably worse than whi- Andals who embody those traits in healthy and/or invisible forms) apparently were willing enough to form bonds with other powerful realms/empires without the (overwhelming) desire to conquer (eg a dragonrider wedding an emperor of YiTi, the fact that Sarnor was right there yet never taken, and fell so soon to Dothraki after Valyria suggesting they were entwined enough that the Doom destabilized them) yet did not do so with Westeros... should also mean something.

What would the Ottomans, or any of the powers around them, want with a giant England that's also way over there? With North-west Europe in general? One that exists in a nasty middle where the diverse cultures and knowledge have already been colonized and replaced with a single knowledge/culture system that makes the Latinized sliver of Roman utilitarianism look downright sophisticated, BUT it also doesn't come along with all that wealth stolen from other lands? Especially without an equivalent to Islam/Christianity to add an ideological, competitive motivation?

Not much.

Problem is... as much as i would love if it could be framed in a way that makes Westeros's relative irrelevance clear, I also don't like the message it sends that you should just let xenophobes be xenophobes, that Dany should come in, fix all of Westeros's problems and then leave (or worse, die) because she nor her family ever really belonged there and yet all those generations of women suffered through all misogyny just so Dany can save the root of that misogyny while also probably being subjected to it. But I also don't like a lot of the alternatives. She can't rule Westeros without dramatically restructuring it and getting called a "tyrant," because I'll maintain that while it's both problematic and bad writing to thematically link Dany+House Targaryen to Valyria as a whole TOO MUCH, I do think the one "parallel" that the Targs and Valyria share, that Dany BREAKS on the third round, is that joining, maintaining and assimilating into preexisting exploitative systems according to THEIR rules, even if war and violence ARE the rules but only if used in a way that follows the rules, isn't just a bad idea when magic is the source of your power, but it's also not a more "ethical" choice than using your magic advantage to break said system. A stance I'm sure the "anti-colonial" irl maesters would LOVE.

But... I've always been convinced that much like Rhaenyra, Dany's story is very much a sociological story, even compared to the other characters around her. She's very much a product of the world around her and the state of that world, and more importantly, the way the world responds to her and her actions is a statement about the world around her.

I'll die on the hill that, because we never get her pov, because GRRM hammers it in that anything relating to her is the most ambiguous part of F&B, Rhaenyra simply cannot be judged for the choices she makes (and all the ones she possibly makes) as an individual. Because aside from kind of forming a dual warning with Nettles for Dany (that raw power from dragons alone leaves her a target and incredibly vulnerable, which Dany learns herself pretty quickly, but that working with a system that won't work with her will never work, that it will ultimately rob you of even the raw power you bring in to it, which she takes a bit longer to learn) Rhaenyra's not meant to function as an individual who is tested. Because she IS the test. A test (most) the men of House Targaryen fail as they chose "The Realm". Because the Realm fails, Gyldayn fails, Stannis (Mr. "The Law" & "Right makes Right") fails... HotD and a good portion of the internet fail...

Which is why however Dany's Westeros arc is resolved is going to be more of a statement on Westeros and the charcters established there (and on GRRM, because I'll also maintain that the themes around Rhaenyra and Dany, that link Rhaenyra and Dany, make them the most "meta") than it is on her. In fact, even GoT fell into this by accident, in that anything even tangential to Dany in those last seasons is incredibly revealing - of the ugly underbelly of the Westeros they had adapted, of the writers, of the "ideal audience" they were appealing to, and the actual audience that still managed to swallow it and was only uncomfortable with how the clumsy writing made it... that much more revealing - of THEM.

I think I started with a conclusion and question about Dany inevitably losing certain forms of agency while becoming a bit of a mirror, on multiple levels, the moment she sets foot in Westeros and meets other pov characters from the "normal" culture, and how I do wonder if/how GRRM struggles with that... and the urge i worry he has and hopefully fights to pull an hbo by (hbo)Targaryen Woman-ing her and essentially withdrawing from her pov or from directing reader empathy and identification towards her, the outsider, and away from the "normies." I like to hope he's a better writer than that. But he's also a white liberal. But... good writing, especially set in a world that the author doesn't live in, often is more "progressive" than the author themselves. For reasons I'm cutting off here before an essay emerges.

Oh wow I really did that to you 😂, you brave warrior of ask culture.

Rhaenin, there is a special hell just for you, just you wait. (THIS is the ask rhaenin-time talks abt when they say "your Dany-Westeros comment" and "Thank-you for pointing out that Westeros needs Dany far more than she needs Westeros").

I think that there would be some confusion over why one wouldn't look at the Targs landing in Westeros through Daenys as them not trying to establish an outpost for future conquest from other Valyrians. But Daenys' father had no intention of settling on Dragonstone before the vision of the Doom and thr other dragonslords sincerely thought he was running away scared, showing us that they may not have been really "interested" in colonizing Westeros. A bit weird to think about Westeros' "desireability" for conquest.

As for GRRM, I can only say we just will have to hope for how he's going to have Dany after the destruction of the Others. As for her meeting others before then, I imagine it will be a very mixed reception and she'd grow a sense of resentment due to how they'd treat her, but nothing "mad" wise like some people say.

But... I've always been convinced that much like Rhaenyra, Dany's story is very much a sociological story, even compared to the other characters around her. She's very much a product of the world around her and the state of that world, and more importantly, the way the world responds to her and her actions is a statement about the world around her. I'll die on the hill that, because we never get her pov, because GRRM hammers it in that anything relating to her is the most ambiguous part of F&B, Rhaenyra simply cannot be judged for the choices she makes (and all the ones she possibly makes) as an individual. Because aside from kind of forming a dual warning with Nettles for Dany (that raw power from dragons alone leaves her a target and incredibly vulnerable, which Dany learns herself pretty quickly, but that working with a system that won't work with her will never work, that it will ultimately rob you of even the raw power you bring in to it, which she takes a bit longer to learn) Rhaenyra's not meant to function as an individual who is tested. Because she IS the test. A test (most) the men of House Targaryen fail as they chose "The Realm". Because the Realm fails, Gyldayn fails, Stannis (Mr. "The Law" & "Right makes Right") fails... HotD and a good portion of the internet fail... Which is why however Dany's Westeros arc is resolved is going to be more of a statement on Westeros and the charcters established there (and on GRRM, because I'll also maintain that the themes around Rhaenyra and Dany, that link Rhaenyra and Dany, make them the most "meta") than it is on her. In fact, even GoT fell into this by accident, in that anything even tangential to Dany in those last seasons is incredibly revealing - of the ugly underbelly of the Westeros they had adapted, of the writers, of the "ideal audience" they were appealing to, and the actual audience that still managed to swallow it and was only uncomfortable with how the clumsy writing made it... that much more revealing - of THEM.

So I pretty much agree here, but perhaps you could also explain more about Rhaenyra's ambiguity. I get more of the sense that she is a test, but not so much here aside from her not being given as much independent words like Otto/Daemon. And i understand that her "silence" is meant to make others (in world and reading) form their own conclusions based on how they percieve what she is, should be, etc. as well as those biases that come forth when they do so.

[ggukkiedae]

BTS MIYA Kicks Off Her Solo Comeback With Exciting News

7:30PM || March 21, 2024

MIYA talks about her future plans during her comeback showcase!

MIYA dropped the album's pre-release single 'SHHH!' on February 14 as a sample for 'REPPIN'". Since then, ARMYs have excitedly waited for the album's release.

'REPPIN'" is an album that MIYA describes to be one that boosts the feeling of self-confidence while taking inspiration from people she sees as 'girl bosses'. Her examples include Beyonce, Marvel's Natasha Romanoff, Ocean's 8 Debby Ocean, Hotel Del Luna's Jang Man Wol, and Little Mix among many others.

The full-length album came out 6PM today, but Bangtan's Princess held a showcase for the press and a number of ARMYs at 1PM where she performed her title track 'DRAMA' and two b-sides as well ('bloodline' and 'whistle') as talked about her tracks, as we'll write at the end of the article.

Alongside her album release, MIYA released news of a tour this year, starting off in June. She noted that the tour "was actually supposed to be announced tomorrow, but I'm already here. I'll leave the details for the poster, but I'll be going on my first solo tour later this year, and I'm definitely going to focus on performing more recent songs! See you all in June!"

ARMYs flooded to the internet with the news, both excited over the new music as well as the possibility of seeing MIYA perform old songs again as well as other songs she had never performed before.

Are you excited for MIYA's tour? Read below to get a glimpse of what to expect from it from MIYA herself:

MY HOUSE (only until 2:03): "I wanted to open the album with something empowering that boosts that feeling of self-confidence and independence, you know? Also something that feels like pride for representing you and what's yours."

DRAMA: "This is the album's title track and one out of the four songs in Korean on the album. I'd like to say, like its title, it gives off a dramatic vibe in a way that practically screams 'main character energy'."

bloodline: "Writing 'bloodline', i tried to tap into the mindset of a girl breaking free from a toxic relationship. Of course, it isn't something I personally experienced in terms of romance because we all know how sweet and amazing my boyfriend is, but I pulled this a bit from when I got emancipated from my biological birthgivers. Only a little bit. Just the resentment."

egotistic: "I'd say that 'egotistic' falls along similar lines to 'bloodline' in terms of freeing and self/confidence. It has a more Latin pop vibe that I definitely have been dabbling in alongside other genres over my hiatus."

bet u wanna: "If there were one song on this album that would make you more confident when talking to a guy you like, I would think 'bet u wanna' is that song. Enough said, I think that pretty much speaks for itself."

got her own (with TXT Seri): "Seri was with me almost the whole time I worked on 'got her own'! She was really excited to work on something that celebrates female independene and just overall self-sufficiency, and I'd like to think we made a good anthem just for that."

grl gvng: "This is like a song I made with a bunch of my closest friends in the industry. I think namely NCT's Hannah unnie, TXT's Seri, Enhypen's Ari, Aespa's Ningning, Red Velvet's Yeri unnie, and Le Sserafim's Yunjin. These girls are some of the strongest I know."

shhh!: "You guys already know 'shhh!'. You wouldn't expect the album from the pre-release single, would you? Yes, I absolutely enjoyed the more mature concepts I did recently, so I carried it over with this in a more playful manner that shows certainty in one's own desires."

princess diana (with NCT Hannah): "Princess Diana was an icon in her time, and obviously Hannah unnie and I both grew up in England for a time hearing stories of her. This song was kind of us channeling her iconicness in a... not as elegant manner."

b.i.t.c.h.: "I know it's still a shock for many to see me include curses in my music, but I don't care. That's this song, you know? Taking the reigns of my own life because people will always talk, so I don't need to waste time trying to appease everyone at the cost of losing myself. It was a lesson hard learned."

whistle: "This is the last of the Korean songs on this album. Like the others, it's very self-confidence based with the more alluring calmer vibes. It's a song I particularly enjoy performing just because the choreography feels playful and upbeat."

7 rings: "The album closes with '7 rings'. We can't have a woman empowerment album without at least one manifesting song, right? This is the trap song to play when you're getting ready for a girl's night in the bathroom to hype yourself up."

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms @jammingjaem

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

[uhshsmsmaka]

Kin list because I keep forgetting and I wanna keep it written so I remember

giving the biggest “please be my friend ur so cool please please please please” to whoever knows all of these characters

But I’ll say them here anyway, in order from the top left going right.

Mikey - rottmnt

SCP-035 - SCP Foundation

Tawnypelt - Warriors

Ennard - FNAF Sister Location

Dr. Iceberg - SCP Foundation

Moxxie - Helluva Boss

Space Kid - Camp Camp

Phone Guy - FNAF 1 (I think?? I never played the games..)

Phillip Graves - Call of Duty Modern Warfare (reboot)

uhhh idk if I label or spelt that right. I hope I did. That’d be kinda embarrassing if I didn’t lol..

———— why I kin them ig.

btw some stuff is headcanons like so and so being lgbtq and Graves having daddy issues

Mikey ROTTMNT- hell, there’s a lot of reasons.. it’s like… really personal with me lol

4th child, plus youngest. 3 older brothers and often gets left out, or brushed off from being involved. + aro/ace spec.

+ orange theme buddy agh I love u ur so pretty 💛💛

+ ADHD

SCP-035 - hmm.

Wants to watch the world burn, and is here for a good time and is really opportunistic with people, and often forms bonds with people for what they can give him… I’m a bad person I know. I’m trying to change.

+ Latin hehe

+ a lot of people really like him when they first meet, and learn the longer they spend with him, the worse he gets.

Tawnypelt - I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about her bc I didn’t read the 2nd arc, but from what I get, she seems to have struggled with gaining her own identity and being seen as someone other than a clone in her family. I struggle with people only knowing me for my brothers so I relate to her for this.

Also idk her leaving Thunderclan, despite her family, friends, and everything she knows and it being genuinely a good place she is comfortable and happy with— to Shadowclan so she can start a new life just touches me personally.

I don’t want to stay here. It’s not bad here, and everyone I love is here, but I don’t feel like I belong here, and I relate to her for it.

Ennard - yeah.. no, I got nothing. Idk why but he’s just like me fr.

Dr. Iceberg - HE’S AN ASSHOLE!!! I’m an asshole!!! Easily entertained, and doesn’t think of others that much, or the consequences of his actions. + mentally ill

+ bad taste in men

+ probably American with a small fraction of his ethnicity from Europe.

Moxxie - Daddy Issues. shit on by everyone. Underestimated kinda I guess???… and mixed morals. Often really polite— or at least is perceived to be, and is a thinker. Can go absolutely feral if necessary.

+ Italian I guess lmfao

+ short- ish..

+ adults and some older kids shall be referred to as ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’

Space Kid - he likes space. What can I say?

He’s so silly. A lot of the actions and stuff he does feels like stuff I would have done/do.

+ brown hair

Phone Guy - tries to help and probably fails. Hey, he’s trying.

Phillip Graves - Daddy issues. I also headcanon his dad was in the military and he moved around a lot and lived throughout the US, so he’s fairly decent at adapting to different places, and tolerate as hell. “It is what it is” mentality about most everything out of his control.

Finds that one person and looks up to them, and gets really clingy and obsessed with them. Doesn’t show it of course, but in his head he wants to impress them and please them in every way possible. *cough, Shepherd, cough cough*

(I met a lotta people I hyperfixated on giving away everything to make them happy. We’re just casual friends now. Except for that one. She was mean as hell to me. We still meet occasionally tho.)

Outside of headcanons, his personality and the way he acts is just very familiar and relatable to me.

+ American (wtf is a kilometer🦅🫡🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅💥🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸)

+ makes shitty jokes no one laughs at

[omnomnomdomcaps]

A Guide to Language Domming, Pt. I

Language Play, Qu'est-ce Que c'est?

Republished for your reading pleasure. And to all who attended my Language Play 101 Class at CAP '23- thank you!!!

What is language play?

Language domming, or language play, is a highly immersive activity where a little or sub experiences speech and media exclusively in a foreign language they either don’t know and at all or have very little knowledge of. For the purposes of most of this guide, I’ll be focusing specifically on language play in an AB/DLs or ageplay context, but it is possible to work into some other kinks - I’ll get to that near the end. 

The appeal, especially when you’re dealing with ABs and ageplayers, is pretty clear. Rather than your little having to pretend they’re too little to understand what all the grown-ups are saying, well, they genuinely won’t understand what all the grown-ups are saying. They won’t be able to grasp most of the things you’re saying to them. They won’t be able to read along with storybooks - they’ll just have to look at the pictures and use their imaginations. They’ll consume simple cartoons the way a young toddler would. And all of this, if presented with the right amount of love and care, can make your little feel very, very little. 

I do want to make it clear here that I didn’t invent this idea. A number of bigs, CGs, and doms I’ve spoken to have used native tongues or foreign picture books to make their littles feel little. It’s even come up in some fantasy writing, where an international setting, or even an extraterrestrial one, leaves a little with a babyish inability to communicate. But I haven’t seen it formally spoken about much, so I figured I would share this guide with you all.      

So how does it work?

Language play sessions normally last a few hours, but if you’re feeling adventurous (and very well prepared) you can stretch it for a day or more. The idea is to completely immerse your little in the target language for as long as you’re playing. Speak to them only in that language. Show them cartoons in that language. Read them stories for bedtime and naptime in that language. The more activities you have to help immerse them - children’s board games and card games, toys that say foreign phrases, even alphabet blocks for non-Latin languages - the more wonderful possibilities there are. 

When playing, your little may try to say things to you in English (or whatever you usually speak), and there are a few ways to handle this. You can enforce that they can’t, with spankings and other punishments, or just with a wag of the finger and a reminder of ‘non, non, en français, s'il vous plaît’ or the equivalent. Alternatively, you can just pretend not to understand them, looking quizzical and bemused (but do listen to what they’re saying, in case it’s important). In either case, as long as you don’t break into English yourself, your little will start to get used to it, and will lean more on non-verbal communication and whatever simple words or phrases they’re able to pick up (and often butcher in the cutest possible way). 

Of course, your little one not being able to talk means there’s a whole lot more they’re not going to be able to do for themselves. You’re going to have to choose their activities, so be sure to plan ahead and know your little’s likes well. You’re going to have to give some diaper checks without asking - well, you can ask, but it’s not like they’ll know that you did. You’ll also be the one figuring out the menu, and you may want to feed your little directly to add to the ageplay immersion. 

Because this is one of the more intense ageplay activities, and because communication during play can be difficult, preparation and communication beforehand is key. Learn your little’s likes and limits, make sure to put away any grown-up distractions (work phones, etc.) and set time aside firmly, and have cues in place to use as safewords (and STOP IMMEDIATELY if you see them). Oh, and when you’re done, be sure to have a gentle, warm, snuggle and talk through the experience - your little is going to have a lot they want to tell you, and you might have quite a bit to share as well. 

What if I’m not fluent in a foreign language? Can I play too?

YES! Believe it or not, you don’t have to be native or fluent in your target language to use it for a wonderful, immersive play experience. In Part II of this guide, I’m going to walk through some key words and phrases to focus on, so that you can be ready to immerse your little with just a few weeks of practice, a bit of strategic Googling, and a whole lotta love. 

Pt. II Can Be Found Here

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 4

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, non-con/rape, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

An explanation for the translation of Astarion's scars can be found here.

The poem's an original written by me and the fictional poet's name's inspired by my username.

(Coella comes from the Galician word "coello" (origins in Latin "cuniculus"), meaning "rabbit". Foxington is self-explanatory.)

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

"Why do you have Infernal written on your back?"

The question made Astarion tense up again and Gale feared he'd overstepped the boundaries.

The vampire spawn kept quiet for a moment, then he asked tentatively: "Infernal? Are you sure?"

"I mean, I haven't seen it yet, but I could swear I made out an Infernal letter with my fingers."

Slowly, Astarion sat up, his gaze intense.

"Would you... would you take a look at it and tell me what it says?" he whispered.

Gale understood that this was a big thing for Astarion, especially since he couldn't see himself in a mirror. He nodded and the vampire spawn, hesitantly, climbed off of his lap, and slowly turned around.

The scar was huge. It wasn't just one, but dozens of small ones that formed one big picture.

Gale frowned.

"It looks like a fancy letter."

At that, Astarion snorted.

"Well, my master called it a gift. A poem. But I've never seen it and I wasn't allowed, and therefore literally not able, to look at the scars mirrored at my siblings' backs."

"He did this to all his spawns?" Gale asked, his voice a dangerous growl. An intense wave of protectiveness surged up in him and almost made him shake in anger. Astarion nodded and pulled up his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. Gale wanted to comfort him, but knew the elf didn't like his back being touched. After a short pause for thought, Gale leaned in to kiss Astarion's shoulder before getting out of bed.

"I'll go and grab my dictionaries," he explained when he caught the elf's look of confusion. "I'm not fluent in Infernal, but that's definitely not a poem, but something like a contract."

Astarion looked shocked and Gale was convinced that if it had been possible, the vampire spawn would have gone pale. Hastily, the wizard threw on the robe that was hanging next to the bed, and rushed into the living room.

"Good morning, Mr. Dekarios. You have company, it seems," Tara greeted him, purring impishly. "It's time you finally move on from that Gods-awful woman and find happiness."

"Thanks, but not now, Tara," mumbled Gale while his eyes and fingers flitted over the hundreds upon hundreds of books.

"I beg you pardon!" hissed the tressym indignantly. "Don't talk to me that way! I deserve respect, and I only want what's best for you!"

"I know." Gale looked at her apologetically. "You have my sincerest apology, dear Tara, but right now, is not the time for such words."

With a sound of triumph, the wizard pulled the two dictionaries out of the bookshelf. Tara cocked her head to the side and asked, curiously: "What do you need Infernal translators for?"

"My guest has some... concerning scars on his back," Gale explained. "I'll help him figure out what they mean."

"Oh, my! That sounds dangerous," said the tressym, worried. "Don't play with fire, Mr. Dekarios, even if the flames look oh-so pretty."

The addressed hummed and nodded before walking back to the bedroom.

Astarion was where he'd left him. Sitting still like a marble statue. And the wizard was reminded of the fact that the elf was undead and didn't need to breathe.

Gale lifted his hand which held the books and sat down on the bed. Astarion looked intrigued and scared in equal measure. Which was understandable, really. The wizard opened the first dictionary, the bigger one, and mumbled: "Now, let's see..."

The message was... concerning to say at the least. It made Gale's skin crawl. He took another look at the sketch he'd drawn of Astarion's scars and cited: "'This lowly soul swears no oath by fire, lest these words be spoken, and this changes within the realm.'"

"What - what does that mean?" asked the vampire spawn and shuddered. "It doesn't sound good, that's for sure."

"As suspected, it's a contract," the wizard explained, "but only a fraction of it, if my theory's correct. And I'm confident that it is. The other spawns must have the rest of the contract on their backs and thus, all of you together, complete it."

"But why?" Astarion pondered aloud. "Why would he go to such lengths to - to - do whatever it is that he's scheming?"

"Maybe splitting the contract was part of the deal," Gale offered, "or perhaps your master wanted to make sure that nothing would go wrong, even if something happened to one of his spawns. He could simply replace them."

Astarion snarled angrily at the thought.

"We're not toys! We're not –" He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'll never be free of him, will I? Ca- My master will always own me in a way."

They remained silent until Gale handed Astarion the sketch.

"Here. I know my drawing skills aren't splendid, but it's better than nothing, I hope."

The vampire spawn took the paper and gave him a small, sad smile, and said: "Thank you, Gale. This is a gift, you know? I won't forget it."

He gazed at the sketch for multiple minutes, silent and still again. Gale, who could never just sit still and do nothing, started fidgeting and got up to stow away the books. With a deep sigh, he slumped down on the sofa and ran his hands through his hair.

What a mess...

"Uhm, darling? Could you close the curtains, please? I don't fancy bursting into flames," Astarion said, clearly trying to lift the mood.

Gale chuckled and uttered a spell. Immediately, the curtains shifted and the room was cloaked in darkness.

"Thank you, darling." Astarion slinked closer and placed his hands on Gale's chest. "I just realised that you never got your relief. Let me repay you, darling."

Without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his knees and parted the fabric of Gale's dark purple robe. Someone made themself known and the wizard jumped.

"Tara!" he squeaked, quickly fumbling his robe close.

"Who?" asked Astarion and it took him a second to spot the calico tressym that sat on the floor next to the kitchen door. The vampire spawn grinned. "Oh, hello, darling. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The addressed huffed and haughtily threw her head back. If cats could speak...

Astarion chuckled.

"Of course, Tara. Apologies," said Gale hastily and helped the vampire spawn back onto his feet. "Tara, Astarion. Astarion, Tara." He gestured between them, and then gave the elf an apologetic look. "She's hungry and demands her breakfast." In this moment, the wizard's stomach growled loudly, and he blushed a bit. "And uhm... so am I, it seems."

"Don't mind me, darling," laughed Astarion. "Go and eat your breakfast, I'm hot on your heels."

Gale chuckled and placed a kiss on the vampire spawn's cheek before he made his way to the kitchen. Astarion followed him at a leisurely pace, looking around curiously. The kitchen faced north, thus, he could enter without any problems.

It was a cosy, little room, filled with pots and pans, and herb bundles dangling from the ceiling, the smell of stew and fresh bread in the air. Astarion immediately like it here. He observed how Gale fed Tara, brew lavender tea, and devoured a homemade cinnamon bun. It was so absurdly domestic, it made the vampire spawn chuckle.

"'The world is small in these four walls,

with joy and laughter filling the halls.

Our world is reduced to our home,

on the shelves, tome follows tome,

the kitchen is well stocked,

that's the place we always flock

to warm up in front of the hearth

which is better than any cloister garth.'"

Gale smiled at him, an incredibly soft look on his face that made Astarion's heart ache.

"Beautiful, but you forgot the last line. 'The world is small in these four walls, with sympathy and love filling the halls.'"

"Oh, what would I do without you, darling?" teased the vampire spawn.

The wizard smirked and took another cinnamon bun while asking: "Who's it by?"

"Coella Foxington, the most beautiful Elven bard who ever lived. Allegedly."

Gale smirked around his pasty.

"Allegedly," he agreed.

Astarion spotted a painting on the wall and moved over to look at it. It showed Gale and an elderly woman. The vampire spawn immediately noticed the resemblance.

"Is this your mother?"

"Yes. Morena. My lovely, intimidating mother."

"You share a lot of similarities."

"That we do," smirked Gale. "It's almost a bit scary sometimes."

Astarion grinned and wanted to know: "Do you and your mother also share your taste in men?"

"I hope not," laughed the wizard. "As long as you aren't a lying, cheating bastard, we're good."

Astarion joined his laughter, but it sounded strained. Gale was too distracted to notice.

[nouklea]

Fic Tag Game!

I was tagged by @beri-allen, @writerrose1998, @cosmic-lullaby and @wileyonce. Thanks! <3

20 questions below the cut:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

16

2. What’s your AO3 word count?

136,228

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Wednesday for now. I used to write for StarWars (see question 12) but no traces remains from that era.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Woe of Wrath

I'm on my Way

Variations on a Main Theme - 1

A Second Chance for a First Impression

Five Minutes Earlier

5. Do you respond to comments?

As much as possible. Usually I respond to every comment, even if it's just to say a quick Thank You. The only fic on which I haven't done that is Woe of Wrath, if fell into limbo and I have a hard time focusing on it right now. And I feel kind of weird to answer comments after several months of silence, but the more I wait the weirder it gets...

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Doomed is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat fic. The entire text is dark, including the ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I will go with Double-Date With Dad. Farewell Xavier Thorpe ends on a really good note too (if you are not a fan of Xavier).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

It never happened. Fingers crossed.

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

I try. I find it difficult for two reasons. First, it's tough to avoid clichés. When you read smut, you end up noticing some general patterns, and I do my best to stay away from those. Second, I'm not a fan of some popular kinks, for instance I can't stand the expression "good girl", and therefore I'm not interested in writing it, even if I keep reading authors that use them. Some people probably think my smut fics are boring, too soft, too ordinary. But I don't care (yeah, I do, but shh).

10. Do you write cross-overs?

No. And I have a really hard time reading cross-overs too. And I hate cross-overs in tv shows. Complete respect to authors, however. It's just not my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I guess I could translate my own fics in French since it's my native language, but for now I don't see any reason to do so.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I did. It was a weird kind of toxic partnership. The other person was responsible for writing the general plot (because my ideas weren't good enough), and I had to turn every page he wrote into a three-pages long section, adding descriptions and filling the blanks. And correct the spelling and grammar, and add better vocabulary...

13. What WIP would you like to finish but doubt you ever will?

I hope I will finish every WIP I currently have, even if they tend to pile up (WIP bunnies...). My biggest challenge is to go back to Woe of Wrath. It is my first fic, it is a multi-chapter one, and I started to write it just to let the steam out after a twenty-years-long writing hiatus, so the outline was not super clear, there are many plot holes I try to fix, the sentences and vocabulary are bad... I know where I want to take the story and how it ends, but it's hard not to want to start over.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

For fanfics I'll say Weyler because it's the only thing I've ever written. Now besides that... For those who read Guy Gavriel Kay, I'm forever bound to the Diarmuid/Sharra ship, followed by Paul/Jaelle. Quite fond of the Clary/Jace ship in The Mortal Instruments (The books! Don't talk to me about the movie or the tv show!)

15. What are your writing strengths?

No damn idea. I've been asking myself the same question since I was thirteen.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably not being able to answer question 15. Imposter syndrome.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In French it's not a problem, of course. I've done it in Impulsion. I have studied Latin for two years in highschool so I felt comfortable enough to translate a few sentences in Woe of Wrath. For other languages, I would only do so if I can find a beta reader fluent in this specific language to correct the grammar. I cringe everytime I read English fics with badly written French dialogs, it makes me loose the focus on the story (Same for tv shows, by the way. Come on, you have 2 millions $ to produce an episode and you can't find someone to double-check your French sentence?). It's really hard for me not to comment with a correction (AO3 etiquette: do not provide corrections unless the author specifically asked for it). I don't want to inflict that on my readers by butchering their native language.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars. It was a long time ago (in a galaxy far far away), when there were only three movies and a few books (Timothy Zahn forever!). And for those who wonder how old I am, I used to write with WordPerfect, DOS version (it was the pre-Windows era). It had a blue background (terrible for the eyes) and some keycodes you had to use to change the font to bold or italics. Since you can't visualize anything in DOS (it's not a wysiwyg), it used colors, so you had to remember what it meant (yellow letters meant italics...). And I used to save those texts on a floppy my mom took to her office to print.

19. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It's not a popular one, but I really like Monologue for a Hyde. I like the tone. Pretty happy with Fuck Me Once Shame on You, Fuck Me Twice Shame on Me, too.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

Woe of Wrath without a doubt. With a proper plan, and a lot of plot holes avoided (that damn cellphone...)

I will tag the Death Metal and Glitter Club members whose Tumblr ids I know, aka @anotherbluesunday, @tastethesetears, @darling-gemini, @darlingfuego,

As well as @broken-everlark, @persephoneed, @bithablu, @allergictocolor and @insomniac1994.