#vivian answers asks

[where-is-vivian]

Viv !! I’m now the biggest North African James fan !!!!! I NEED FICS AND HCS NOW !!!!!

@reverie-darling see what we have created...

I don't have any fics in storage with north African James right now 🤔 we need to change that (I'm thinking about writing him with another hc than Hindi on the next long fic I have planned so maybe that)... if anyone has fics like this, feel free to share!

for the headcanons, well I'm not north African myself, so I only know some bits of the culture from my friends and from the internet, but here's a few that I think fit for james:

1. He'd be from Morocco. He's getting the Moroccan genes from his mother, and he often went back to his mother's parents home during holidays as a kid. He has good memories of running around and having fun with his cousins and the beautiful view when they'd be high enough to see the whole qsur.

2. He's also spoiled rotten by his grandma. No further explanation x)

3. He'd do tricks when serving the tea. oh my. James would show off every time there were guests (and especially if at some point he invites lily or regulus). He trained for years for that, burning himself several times (and Euphemia giving him healing ointments after while scolding him lightly (it's her love language)). He'd just show off. Oh also he'd love mint tea.

4. He's a cat person. Sirius feels betrayed but I'm sorry, that might be a cliché idk; if you've seen the guy on tiktok saying that all Arab people are cat people and all cats are Muslims, well. All of my Arab friends are cat people (no fr x)) so I say: James cat person (also he absolutely looooves Regulus in his Animagus form).

5. And last, but not least, he'd speak French. You probably come from this post already but I'm putting it here anyway x)

If you have any hcs for north African James, feel free to share!

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

OK WAIT

Y’ALL REMEMBER PEOPLE WERE SUSPICIOUS OF THIS

CUZ WHY WOULD THEY CHOOSE TO HIDE LILITH’S FACE IF WE ALREADY KNEW WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE

A LOT OF PEOPLE THOUGHT THIS MIGHT BE EVE

IF IT IS, WE WERE ALREADY AWARE SHE WAS BLONDE, WE ALL JUST COLLECTIVELY FORGOT 😭😭😭

IF THAT’S THE CASE, IT WOULD MAKE SENSE THAT ABEL IS BLOND TOO

BUT, IF THAT’S THE CASE, WHY IS EVE IN HELL??? I’M SO DAMN CONFUSED

[mpsansy]

Ya think we can see Casper interacting with his aunties?

Boy loves his aunts

[milolovesbmc]

bites you… dilf whizzer is on my mind again

Whizzer Brown the man you are……..

[linkedin-offficial]

how does goombella feel about chimera vivian? i imagine she's got some real charged emotions about it all

ohhh for sure without a doubt shes got emotions alright . for being so small , she does a pretty good job of not exploding due to the stress of it all, frankly.

i did explore how she would react a teensy bit in this post, but that was made before i wrote out the entire timeline/series of events of the whole au. now its clearer in my head that she definitely would absolutely Hate everything about the situation and would probably act really out of her normal character. irritable, not talking as much, shut off and secluded, the works.

but to be fair, it would impact all of them horribly. i cant imagine watching a really close friend of yours get eaten and then turned into a horrible beast once you go through all the trouble to revive them would really do much good for anyones psyche .. ^_^;

[mercurygray]

Ooooh, build-a-fic! How about "here, let’s get you warmed up" + contentment + the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there :)

I find it very, very funny that no less than three people gave me the dialogue prompt to warm up, and I think just that many gave the location prompt about bedsides.

I took the wild-card option on characters here as an excuse to do a little thought experiment - the threatened Vivian/Doctor Huston fic.

It's a bit whumpy.

---

It was the nightmares again.

Adam rolled over in bed and tried to control his breathing, focusing on the sloped, white ceiling of his room. It had been a while since he'd had one. He thought he'd been getting better. It was always the same dream, or similar - the siren announcing the need for ambulances on the airstrip, the thrumming wind from a still-beating engine, and then the orderlies were pulling everyone he'd ever loved from out of the plane in bits and bloody pieces, and the bodies never stopped at ten.

He closed his eyes, hand splayed over his heart like somehow the weight would slow down the muscle. Your name is Adam Huston. You're a doctor with the 8th Air Force. You're at Coombe House, in Dorset. You're here for a few weeks away from your unit, just like everyone else here. You are good at your job. You will try your hardest to make sure they all get well. You will try your best to make sure you get well.

Get well - a high order. Who was the doctor here, and who the patient? The line seemed indistinct sometimes. It'll be an easy posting, Adam. Observe and evaluate. They just need a little time away from it all - get a chance to get their feet back under them. If you see anything serious, you can mark it in the file. Big house, plenty of fresh air - and half a dozen pretty girls to keep you on your toes.

Pretty girls - offered like they'd stopped making them in England when the war started and the beauty of women were somehow also rationed. Francy, in charge of everyone, as well as Susan, Julia, Peggy, Caro, and Vivian - smiling, shaking hands, welcoming him in like they did to everyone who arrived here, the all-American girls from next door, if next door was an extremely selective women's college.

The last woman, Vivian, had looked a little pale next to the others, her lipstick somehow too bright for her face. "Everything all right?" he'd asked, duffel in one hand and raincoat in the other. The urge to reach out and take her pulse was tangible, and the fact that his hands were full was suddenly unsettling. He adjusted his grip on the suitcase instead.

"Just a little under the weather, is all." She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be right as rain when it blows over. Can I show you upstairs to your room?"

Coombe House was a country estate, built for shooting weekends and house parties, with bedrooms and corridors that went for miles. The airmen were downstairs in the guest rooms, and the staff, along with the hostesses and him, were upstairs in the servants corridor, with sloping ceilings and threadbare runners in the hallway to deafen the noise. "Your own, of course," she'd said, opening the door for him and letting him step inside. “We couldn’t have our doctor bunking. Butler’s down at this end, and we’re at the other, with the maids. Just how it was before the war.” Somehow the sparseness of the room didn't bother him. It's only temporary, this place. She watched him set down his coat and duffel on the bed. "They've opened up a wall a little way down for a little kitchenette - a sink and a gas burner for tea or reheating a cup of soup. Sometimes we keep strange hours." He nodded in agreement, glanced out the window at the grounds below, taking in the garden, the hedges and the curve of the river, everything still green and growing. "I'll leave you to get settled then. Dinner's at seven - dress uniforms." And then with a brief smile she was gone.

He wandered through the house, getting a feel for the corridors and the rooms - the library, the games room, the sitting room filled with ping pong tables, the ballroom with its badminton nets. An office, too, white cabinets, a desk, and a chair across, so someone could sit. No lights, no exam chair - a consulting room. A file drawer, too, standing in the corner, full of other men's secrets.

He turned off the light and left that for another day.

The rhythm of the house took some getting used to, after months on the flight line. Breakfast was at 9 am, not six, and everyone slept in. There was no review of the ward, no supply stock take, no white coat and stethoscope...no late afternoon flight return to manage. He took walks, watched birds, tried to ride a horse. Mainly he talked to the men. Theirs were quick stays, six or seven days, long enough to watch them uncurl a little, unclench their jaws and slide their shoulders down from their ears. Easy enough to understand - how many men back in Norfolk with the 96th were just the same as they?

The hostesses, too, were easy to read - Peggy with her bicycle and her loud laugh, Susan with her easy knowledge of the whole library, leading her book group like she didn't know that it was her smile and her black curls that made them all come to talk about things they hadn't read. Francy, effortlessly in charge of everything, everyone's sister and everyone's friend. Always first names, with the girls, and never Miss, while the boys were Patterson and Johnson and Reed, last names and nicknames and inside jokes. And he was Doc, as though they'd always known him thus, stamped from the same plate as every other doctor on every other base, the kind and concerned uncle asking obliquely how they were doing, whether they'd gotten the game scores, how they were sleeping, whether the dream had come back.

But Vivian remained aloof, somehow. The ashen look from her first day retreated, but she was still different from the others, somehow set apart. He found out that she was from Massachusetts, that she had two siblings and a ginger cat. It felt like the others saw it, too - she was the older woman, somehow a better prize where attention was concerned. One night after dinner he caught her singing at the piano while Susan played - a children's song in French. She played tennis like a champion, danced beautifully, never got a man's rank wrong - but what she'd done before the war she never said.

Finally his curiosity got the better of him one afternoon, listening to Caro call for her twice before she answered, as though she didn't know her own name. The filing cabinet beckoned. He sat down and found the stack of medical records for the Red Cross.

He'd made good headway through the cabinet when the gong rang for dinner (After a week here, it still sounded silly to hear it) and he rushed upstairs to quickly change into his better uniform, comb his hair and make sure his tie was straight.

In the dining room he made a beeline for Vivian, smiling away the lieutenant she was talking to by clearing his throat and flashing his captain's bars. (The younger man took the hint, given in so many officer's clubs, and beat it.)  "How are you feeling today?"

She didn't look pleased to be asked. "I told you I would be fine in a few days."

He stepped in, pitched his voice lower. "And are you expecting to recover from recurring malaria overnight, Lieutenant?" He pronounced the rank with special emphasis and watched her eyes flash in recognition. The Red Cross certainly didn't make them officers, but the Nurse Corps did - and Vivian Arsenault hadn't started her time with the Army passing out donuts and coffee in England. In fact, she hadn't started in England at all - and that was just the trouble with tropical climates, wasn't it - that they had different diseases there? Such a lot of trouble from such a little insect.

"You read my file." It was an accusation - almost a disappointment.

"I'm a doctor. I needed to know who I was working with. And I was wondering why you never seem to hear your name when anyone calls you. It's because you're still not expecting to hear it." He looked at her daring her to disagree - she didn't.  Yes, First Lieutenant Arsenault, joined in '38, three years abroad in Manila, invalided out of the Nurse Corps in June of 1941 for recurrent malignant malaria. A lucky thing, since the Rock fell in January of 42 - if you thought about luck that way, anyway. "I expect this is quite the change from Fort Mills," he offered, glancing around the room.

"Not really," she replied. "Soldiers are soldiers. But you're right. I was Arsenault for so long that Vivian sounds wrong, or ...insubordinate." She sniffed. "Francy knows, but please don't tell the others. They know I'm a nurse, but not - not that."

"And as a nurse, I didn't think I'd have to tell you that you ought to be in bed if you're having an episode."

"I've told you," she said, fixing him with a look that would not be crossed or questioned, "I'm fine. It passes quicker if I'm busy."

"We're not going to win the war by you working yourself to death," he said, a little more strongly than he meant. "It's not the end of the world if someone doesn't have a tennis partner."

"But how will I feel if he goes down next week?" She looked at him with a grim smile. "They only have the time they have."

It was an argument he could see he was not going to win, and he let her move away, down the table to another group of soldiers. And what about you, he'd wanted to ask. What about your time? Somehow silence seemed wiser.

Days passed - men came and went.  Outside the estate the war went on regardless. This being England, sunshine was cause for celebration, and a cloudless day practically cause for a parade. Huston opened the windows in his office to watch the men on the pond trying to tip their boats, and decided to try and squeeze in a walk before the day took a turn. He paused at the house’s great front door and considered his options, hands in pockets - the gardens? The lake? The stables? 

He made his way to the back of the house, passing a few fellows on bicycles, one of the groundsmen with a dirty shovel,  the kitchen maids putting out the rubbish bins for someone to move and collect. The bicyclists waved as he went by, but most everyone else out here ignored him, too caught up in the world of their own making. And that was fine by him. Responsibility sat differently outside - here he was neither doctor nor parent, only a fellow traveler, out to enjoy the air. The gravel of the house’s footpath opened up to the lawn, lined with trees that some pair of jokesters were making a contest out of trying to climb, egged on by a crowd, the tennis court, air filled with laughter, the rhythmic thwack of a tennis ball, going back and forth. Adam stood and watched the game for a minute, watching Vivian set and serve with the abandon of someone who did this far too often to be considered merely ‘good’.

And then a great crack, a cry of pain - the tree limb behind the tennis court had broken and sent its traveler down to earth. It was all instinct, what that sound woke in him- Adam picked up and ran.

It had been weeks since he’d treated a broken limb, felt like months since he’d seen blood - it didn’t matter. The measures of command came back like water. You’re a doctor in the 8th Air Force, and you’re good at your job. “Easy there, Carl, easy does it. I’ve got you. Sit up with me now, you’ve had a bit of a shock. Can someone run back to the house for Francy? We’ll get you inside in a minute, Carl, just sit and catch your breath. That’s just the adrenaline kicking in. Can you move your fingers for me? Good. Stand up, easy now, there’s a good chap, we’ll wait just a moment here…”

Suddenly there was Vivian in her tennis whites, murmuring something about helping, about not needing Francy, and the two of them took Carl inside to the consulting room and Vivian went for bandages and alcohol and Francy turned up regardless to manage the curious crowd outside the door.

Palpate, clean, numb, set, bandage. All the same steps in the same cadence, just the same as he’d been doing for years. And at every movement there she was - swab, syringe, bandage. It would keep Carl Nolan off the flight roster for a few weeks, but he’d manage. Young men always did. He looked up from tying off the bandage and saw that Vivian was watching him closely, her expression hard to read. 

He finished setting his instruments back on his tray and rose from his chair to go and wash his hands. “That was good work,” he said, as blandly as he could.  She wasn’t the type who took a compliment easily, and if you were too effusive, he’d observed, she’d assume you were lying. (Had she learned that in the Army, at officer’s club dances and the tennis court? Or was it before then, back home in Haverhill? He had such a lot of questions for her and he didn’t think she’d ever answer one.)

“And you.”

He bit back a smile over the washbasin and turned back to look at her. “You sound surprised.”

Was that a smile? But just as quickly as it had appeared it fled. “Maybe I am,” she replied, leaving to change her clothes or return to her game, he didn’t know which. He snorted and set it aside. It had been good work, small though the service might have been. An arm broken falling out of a tree wasn’t an arm broken on a bombing run getting thrown against a wall while your pilot dove to avoid a flak field - injured, rather than wounded. Still, it was good to feel useful - some days he felt like he was hardly doing anything at all. 

The end of one crop of soldiers meant the arrival of another - Adam watched the hostesses dash outside in the mornings to make introductions as the van rolled up, letting out another group of airmen all with that slightly dazed look in their eyes, glancing up at the house’s grand facade like they still weren��t sure this was real. Three…four…five. Five.

He stepped out into the hallway, counting shadows on the drive outside again. Five. Hm.

Adam retreated back to his office as Francy brought the new group inside and showed them the stairs and the door to her office, the lavatory on this floor and the way they could get to the dining room, and waited until the coast was clear before opening his door. "Hey, Francy.” She stopped, clipboard in hand. “Where's Vivian?"

"She's upstairs," Francy said, extremely unconcerned in a way that Adam found hard to interpret. Was she being calm for the benefit of the airmen, or was there really no cause for alarm? But then, perhaps she didn't know about the malaria, and thought only that Vivian was the kind of person who got a stuffy nose a little more often than most. "It's just a cold. She said she'd be down tomorrow."

Adam nodded and tried to follow Francy's calm, wondering if he ought to cross to the women's side of the house and check the room under the eaves with ‘Vivian’ chalked on the door. She won’t want that, he told himself. She’s a grown woman - she knows herself. You can give her that respect. It’s a cold - nothing more.

Day came, and day went - and still no Vivian. Susan left a tray at her door, but no one saw her take it in.

It wasn’t a cold that woke him up the following night - and it wasn’t one of his nightmares, either. He rolled over in bed, wondering what it was that had roused him, and heard a clatter in the kitchenette down the hall, a low moan. Adam blinked in the dark, swinging his legs over the side of the bed searching for his slippers and fumbling for his dressing gown, belting it against the nighttime chill. (It was always cold here, under the eaves. Warm air was supposed to rise but somehow it never seemed to reach their rooms.)

His eyes adjusted to the relative dark, moonlight peeking in from the window at the end of the corridor, and made his way down the hall, somehow already knowing who and what he’d find. 

There was Vivian, yellowed out and chattering, wrapped in her bathrobe with her blanket around her shoulders and her hand feverishly knocking against the counter, looking at the spilled kettle on the floor with bleary eyes. A deflated hot water bottle sat on the sideboard, waiting to be filled. How hard had it been for her to find the kettle and fill it in the dark, when her hands were as bad as they were?

"Jesus, Vivian.” In two moments he was next to her, picking up the kettle and its lid and setting them on the sideboard, grabbing a towel from the rack to mop up the floor. “Why didn't you say anything?” 

"Don't send me home." Her voice struggled through chattering teeth. "I don't want to go home."

"No one's sending you home, I just want you to be warm." It was the most honest he'd been all day. “You're shaking. Let's get you back to bed."

“I have work to do.”

“Yes, you do,” he agreed wholeheartedly, steadying her back down the hall to her room. “And so do I.” It was all too easy to steer her back down the hall, back into her bed and to tuck the covers around her. “You’re going to stay in this bed until that water boils, and I will bring the hot water bottle back to you,” he said, in a tone that said he would not be taking no for an answer here. “There’s no sense in the two of us freezing here.”

How long it was, to wait in the dim light of the kitchen impatiently anxious for the kettle. She’d been left for the last 48 hours, but who was to say it hadn’t started sooner? Without antimalarials she needed the shivers to come down as soon as possible, or there was a risk of febrile - 

He darted back to his room for aspirin and came back just as the kettle was starting to boil. 

“Take these,” he ordered, handing her the tablets and a glass of water, the now full bottle under his arm. She palmed the pills and drained the glass, teeth still chattering. “And then let’s get you warmed up.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, as he tucked the now-hot bottle in between her and her blankets, and then left his slippers at the side of the bed and slipped in between the sheets with her. 

“Making sure you stay in this bed and sleep,” he said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world, to climb into a woman’s bed. (No one could complain - she was still in her dressing gown and he was still in his.)

 “I’ll be warmer than a hot water bottle, in this icebox.” 

Her body felt strange next to his own, hot and cold all at once, and there was the familiar urge to do what one did with a woman in bed, wrap your arms around her and pull her closer than law and manners would allow. But that was for another time and another place. You need care just like any of those men downstairs do - but it’s not your arm that’s broken, Vivian Arsenault, and you don’t need someone to talk to. And I care, even if you don’t want me to, even if you want the world to think you don’t need caring. A little distance was required - but not much. His arm was loose around her body, outside the folds of her bathrobe.

He thought she’d make more noise about it, but nothing came. “And here I thought you might protest a little more, Lieutenant.”

A pause. “You’re the only one who read the files,” she managed, quietly. “ All of the others were too worn through to care.” Another pause. “And If you were really going to try something you’d have done it by now. First week, maybe. First night.” She hugged the hot water bottle closer. “You saw I was sick and asked if I was feeling alright.” Another pause, longer this time. “And I don’t…mind it so much, from you.”

Something in him was in freefall. I feel…something for you, Vivian Arsenault, and I thought for a while it was simple fascination but I think it’s more than that. “I may kiss you,” he warned, perfectly serious about it. Make me useful to you, Vivian.

“I may let you,” came the reply, gently tucking her body closer to his. Her hand closed around his and he shut his eyes feeling finally content, knowing that tonight, at least, there would be no dreams except of her.

[simplydannie]

Vivian and Brandy getting along with their hot husbands>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Haii Pookie!

Those girls are totally all over their husbands no lie! Both being VERY affection towards them. But I can totally see Vivian and Brandy sitting down at the mini bar with a drink or two and just gushing about their husbands!

[thatdraggo]

VIVIAN NEEDS TO EAT THE PHONE IMMEDIATELY TO SAVE HERSELF AND GOOMBELLA FROM THE RABID VIVIBELLA STANS (AKA ME) GO GO GO

“Absolutely NOT!” As Goombella flipped through her giant textbook with a red face.

Sadly (?) I cannot eat her phone, “Rabid Vivibella stans.” She said she’d explain that species to me in the morning! But for now, I guess answering questions on here is funner than sleeping. Also, her hair is surprisingly soft to lay on! I’ve been touching it all night!

(I know what you are…)

(QUESTIONS ARE OPEN!)

[himexyandere]

So VIVIAN POOPS OUT HIS POCKET ROCKET?

NAH WHAT IF HE WANTS TO POO WHILE WE HAVE SEX😭

Why am I getting so many asks about Vivian shitting-

Anyway, no, snakes don't shit out of their dicks, their cloaca are located on the undersides of their tails, and that's where they shit from. Since he's half snake/half human, his dicks are located where a human male's usually are, while his cloaca is in the same spot as a snake's

[tangled-wires-and-a-dead-heart]

stellar icon if i do say so myself - questions 5, 6, & 7 for all'a your mcs!

Ooooo okay thank you!!!! (The ask game)

Warning: this is going to be a little long lol.

My babies <3 (wow this is some old art lol)

(from left to right it's: Wesley, Andy, Eleanor, Raymond.)

-----

5. What does your mc do for a living? Where do they live?

Andy's a middle school history teacher! They live in an apartment with their "difficult roommate" (aka: their cat Truck)

Eleanor is a streamer who does art on stream. She's also generally an artist who does commissions for people (even when she's not streaming it I mean). She lives in a dingy studio apartment with her Border Collie Ace (who she is almost certainly not allowed to have living in the apartment, she gets away with it though cause she's just such a nice person.)

Raymond is a psychology student who wants to become a therapist in order to help people. He's currently living in a tiny attic space in a house with 10 other roommates.

Wesley is a first year at a law firm, working as a lawyer. He lives in a basement that floods whenever it rains (which he absolutely hates but doesn't really have the means to find a better place to live.)

----

6. What relationship do they have with people back home?

Back home, Andy mainly interacts with their students, who think that 'sure, this teacher is a bit odd but they're also super chill 90% of the time so they're pretty cool', their co-workers, who definitely don't like them because of the odd things they say, and Truck, who is both a cat and extremely difficult (they love and take care of Truck but he's still a difficult cat lol). Andy is a person who tends to spend time alone and while they're completely fine with hanging out with people, they tend to be quiet a lot of the time. (besides when they have some advice/insight to give or something cryptic to say (the latter of which is off-putting to a lot of people) I feel like most people that actually know Andy think generally the same thing about them, that they're nice but a strange.

Andy also used to have a boyfriend that they met in college and dated for about a year before it got broken off, he just wasn't ready for a serious relationship with them and thought that he and Andy were better off as friends. The two of them still occasionally talk but it's awkward now.

Eleanor is the kind of person who knows everyone. She's a social butterfly at heart and loves to talk. People like her and she likes people. She's friendly with basically all of the other people in her apartment complex and the places that she frequents, people think that she's a nice girl who's always open to talk and hang out with.

Eleanor (who has TTA) might be friendly to everyone but she is especially fond of animals, even moreso than people sometimes, so she always makes a point to try and make friends with basically all of the animals in her area. She also loves her dog so much and considers him her best friend, who thinks the same of her. (Ace is very protective of her lol)

Raymond's roommates are nice but they're cliquey, always somehow finding a way to not include him in things. Plus there's the fact that they keep trying to use his room as a storage place for their things. But between classes and his time spent at the gym, he's hardly at the house so he doesn't really have an issue with any of that.

His main group friends are his workout partners at the boxing gym that he frequents. He's an amateur boxer in his free time, so most of his time that's not spent on school or working part-time is spent boxing or other forms of exercise. People generally see him as a well meaning, if not slightly intense, guy who's always willing to lend a hand (or ear) to someone who needs it.

As I've stated before, Wesley is not a people person. He is awful at interacting with others and usually won't go out of his way to talk to someone unless he really (and I mean really) likes them. He rarely talked to anyone back home that he wasn't forced to talk to, it didn't help that the one of the main groups of people he was forced to talk to (his roommates) are some of the most obnoxious, inconsiderate people that he's ever personally met. So his relationships... weren't very good. He doesn't like any of those people and they also don't like him.

----

7. What was your mc’s relationship with Vivian?

Andy was really close with Vivian, for a while Vivian was their only real source of company. Andy was one of those kids who was very isolated, they didn't have many friends and if they did happen to make some kind of connection with another person it didn't last for long. Andy had a very hard time connecting with any other people for the first few years of their life. So they loved their mother with all of their heart, that's why they had little trouble with putting most things in their life on a pause to make sure that Vivian got the care that she deserved when she got sick.

Eleanor was also very close with Vivian but in a "kid whose mom is their best friend" kind of way (if you get what I mean). She loved her mom a lot when she was a kid and while she still loved her mom, she began to talk to her less after she moved out. They still had the occasional phone calls and other things but they weren't consistently talking to each other, even less so when she got sick.

Raymond was a difficult teenager, always getting into trouble of some kind, sneaking out, one time he even ran away and didn't come back for a month. (He was only caught when someone in a gas station recognized him and practically dragged him back). The two of them fought a lot as a result of his behavior and the two of them developed a turbulent relationship as he got older. When Raymond left for college, he rarely even picked up the phone when she called. It wasn't really until after her death that he realized that she was just trying to make sure he wasn't throwing his life away and he regrets not spending more time with her before she passed.

Wesley wasn't particularly close with Vivian. He loved her as his mom but like with most other people, he just couldn't really connect with her beyond that. He didn't confide in her about anything and he only seemed to become more closed off from everyone after getting into a motorcycle accident with one of his friends in highschool. He tried to be there for her when she was sick but he found it hard to do, between the mountains of work he had and his own personal dislike of hospitals (due to his accident), he just didn't have the energy to keep visiting her.

[where-is-vivian]

hello hi viv my love i just went through your art tag here on tumble because i wanted to find the dorcas video but i cant find it. (insert elijah wood interview voice) is it on tumblr? have you put it on tumblr? will you put it on tumblr? when will you put it on tumblr? sending you all the love!!!

hello!

no I do not, no I have not, maybe *saturated laugh*

no for real x) I haven't put it on tumblr yet! I wasn't sure about tumblr being the proper platform for it, but since you're so kindly asking, here it is:

I hope the quality isn't too bad! have a good day 😊

[potatoplace]

... just discovered there's no kallias x Vivienne x reader fan fiction anywhere and now I'm sad

Well you got my head stuck on this idea my whole work day... I'm trying to think if I could make the idea a decently sized one shot or if it'd need to be a series... if it's a series I'd be waiting until The Afterthought is finished to get it started, but I might just do some cute lil fluffy slice of life things for them!

Cause you're right. They NEED some x Reader loves 🫶

[mpsansy]

Silvester: (To Vivian) So I noticed that you’re into eating human flesh. Not saying it’s a dealbreaker, but my family’s probably gonna have questions, and it’s easier to come up with potential alibis if everyone’s on the same page.

[pealeii]

ASK ATTACK!!!!!!!! haiiiiiii :3

HAHAHAA HELOO ;)))))

[blorbocedes]

why do you think nico retired from f1?

got mpregnant

[evaslytherpuff]

Okay, since you're an Omi girlie, I'm going to ask for 19, 24 and 35 for the 50 OTP Things for Ominis and Vivian! <3

Hi, Becki! How are you? I hope you are doing well!🫂❤️ Thank you for asking about my favorite couple. I’ve been having major writers block and I’ve been dealing with a lot of family issues and loss in my life. It’s been chaotic and honestly, heartbreaking. Answering these questions has really been helping me and inspiring me. It makes me want to write.😍 Thank you for submitting them!🥹🥰

19. Who loves to call the other one cute names?

Vivian definitely does it more than Ominis.🤭 She has so many for him. Love, Darling, Prince, Mon Amour, Chéri, the list goes on. She knows he loves to sleep and take naps whenever he can and she is the only person who can properly wake him up. (That he allows to wake him up.😂) She will whisper all these cute names to him and stroke his hair or back until he wakes up with a smile.

Ominis has a few for his curvy queen.❤️ Darling, My Love, Princess, his Little Serpent. (When she’s in her Animagus form.) He will playfully tease her about her height but secretly, she loves it, especially when he kisses the top of her head. Although she is much shorter than him, she is not a pushover and that is something that Ominis adores about her.

24. Who is the talker/ Who is the listener?

Vivian tends to talk and Ominis is a very good listener. Vivian isn’t really shy and she’s confident with who she is. She’s a French girl with a passion for fashion and loves talking about all her designs with Ominis. He is also her business partner and she will not sell a design without his approval. They make a dynamic and powerful team in the fashion industry. Ominis will also listen when she goes through one of her rants in French and does his best to calm her down.

Vivian listens to Ominis as well. He’s able to be himself with her and she’s always telling him how he can talk to her about anything. She doesn’t judge him or make him feel worse about himself. People are often surprised to discover that Ominis actually has a silly and humorous side. Vivian encourages him to just let go and enjoy life, especially after everything he has been through. He loves to cuddle and play with her cat Willow. Ominis and Vivian bring out the best in one another and even a few students envy their relationship.

35. Who goes overboard on the holidays?

Hands down, it’s Vivian. lol. She will design matching costumes for them, plan to go to a couples baking class for Christmas, have Ominis spend the holiday with her grandmother in a cozy cabin, buy lots of candy for Halloween and feed it to him. Ominis may not enjoy the costumes or large crowds but he loves how happy it makes Vivian and if she’s happy then he is happy. She will reward him for being a good sport as well with lots of steamy sex.🤭 He’s been a good boy in her eyes, he deserves it.😁

I had so much fun answering these! I thank you once again for submitting them, Becki.🥰❤️