#which leads to the first date depicted

[mrehkka]

Some more ZAGR doodles! Haha I think their first "date" probably wouldn't seem like one. Gaz was like "we can go out to eat but don't sit next to me and don't talk to me I have a boss to beat". Zim enjoyed it lmao. Next date, they actually play games together, and since Zim ALSO games and also he has a computer as a second brain, he predicts the game's RNG for Gaz lmao

Then we have Gaz dressing Zim up haha and finally another gaming date- this time when they've dated a while so cuddles are welcome! (Gaz is playing with joycons if it's not obvious lol).

[tarnishedtwill]

Nevarran Locations & Landmarks

Nevarra City– This is the capital of Nevarra. Home to the Grand Necropolis among other things. This is also primarily where most festivals and balls are held, as well as where the Palace of King Markus is located. Nevarra City is also home to the  residence of the Anaxas house, and location of the Duchess Games. [Though the current ruler of Cumberland hails from this family: Duke Sandral Anaxas.] It is also home to the Castrum Draconis as well as the Minanter River which carves through it.

Castrum Draconis– Vast Botanical Gardens with hundreds of statues depicting Royalty and Heroes of legend [Powerful Generals, Dragon Hunters etc.] Along the roadways leading up to the Castrum are stately columns of black marble amidst which statues of Kings & Queens of Nevarras past are on prominent display. In Autumn there is a festival held [ see Ancestral Pageant in my Nevarran Culture Post] where many great families hire performers to recreate famous moments in the statues lives by lantern light. Often draping the statues themselves with their house colors. Notably the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams tend to compete for the best show each year.

Blackthorne Manor– The estate was gifted to a family who then took on it’s name by Queen Vanneska the Fourth. [codex: ‘A Tale of the Blackthornes’] Twenty Generations have walked its halls, [meaning if a generation is estimated at 25-30 years, I would potentially date both the manner and Vanneska to 500-600 years ago, placing somewhere around 3:50 Towers to 4:50 Black.] That said, the codex this is from is annotated by Emmrich stating this must have been written in better days– that no one knows what horrible fate befell the Blackthornes. Noting rumors of suspicious deaths, untended crypts and salacious affairs. [This means that my date estimates could be to young and the manor could be even older.] At some point since its abandonment, it became the base for the Necromancer Johanna Hezenkoss.

Grand Necropolis– A large mausoleum sometimes said to be at the heart of Nevarra city while other sources say it's on the outskirts of the city. This is the main base of operation for all Mortalitasi, including the Mourn Watch. There are open-air gardens, crypts, and mausolieums. The structure is as large as a city in its own right, some royal burials being described as palaces of their own. [Lead concept artist Matt Rhodes remarked while designing the structure that, at least in early concepts, his inspiration was an inverted Tower of Babel. The Mortalitassi, instead of seeking knowledge from the stars, they seek it from their dead.] It is also of note that the geography of the Necropolis shifts quite a bit. Chambers are known to shift and change sporadically. [Note the Memorial Gardens being lost until Rook discovers they had moved to the Vault of the Beloved & also the lack of panic over the Basalt Hypogeum at first because it was thought they moved within the Necropolis, not that they were stolen.] Though Emmrich does say during the 'Walking the Graves' questline that it is unlikely for a section to move while people are inside of it, impling it's more common for less traversed chambers to shift. Unless I am mistaken it appears the cause of this is shift is largely unknown, if not gently implied that it's something to disuade tomb raiding. [I cannot remember which dialogue it is said in, I will search, but I am pretty sure looting deterents are mentioned at one point.] While some areas like the gardens are open to the public for days of mourning, many of the lower wings are heavily restricted even among the order.

Basalt Hypogeum– A vast section of the Necropolis that was stolen and transported to Blackthorne Manor to facilitate Johanna Hezenkoss’ experiments. Many Watchers were curious of its disappearance as it was sudden, though the Necropolis does tend to shift often. Myrna noted it was a ‘matter of strange obliquity’. Once Johanna is defeated Myrna notes a great magic will be required to attempt to transport and restore the wing to its place in the Necopolis. Design wise we know this is one of the more impressive and old sactums within the Necropolis, the basalt being shipped from Rivain in 4:57 Black. We also know the name of the Stonemason who crafted its impressive halls: Othmar Gerdebrand.

Cascades– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’

Chamber of the Unforged– This is a hexagonal chamber with several small treasure caches on each spoke. Notably this is where Rook faces the Formless One when it possessed the body of a taxidermied high dragon. It is considered one of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’. The hallway leading to this chamber seems to hold several important memorials, as statues, paintings and gated off rooms of gold and urns line each side. [Knowing that the Tanhausen family commissioned the high dragon to be taxidermied it could possibly be a wing for their quite prominent family. However we do know that the ‘last’ crypt of the Tanhausen’s is in the Memorial Gardens.]

Charnel Bridge– Mentioned briefly in banter between Bellara and Emmrich for good places to learn more about undead. It’s briefly mentioned that the ‘nightmare fog’ has overwhelmed it.

Charnel Pyramid– A section of the Necropolis that is ‘disagreeably cursed.’ [Codex entry: From Myrna, on Rediscovering the Gardens] Myrna recommended that the Pyramid should go through a lustration before the next Equinox. [Lustration: a policy that removes public officials or beings from positions of power associated with a repressive regime; this makes me wonder if it is similar to the situation with undead during the War of Banners.] The area surrounding the pyramid must also be quite sizeable as it was debated to be used as a backup location for public days of mourning in the event the location of the Memorial Gardens was not rediscovered in time.

Cobalt Ossuary– A resting place for skulls within the Necropolis. This is the location of the spiritual disturbance in the short story ‘A Flame Eternal’ in which a skull began to hiss and scream from it’s niche. [We know that some royal families and high nobility have full Palaces as their resting places. I would assume an Ossuary with skulls in niches more than likely is for lower nobility, or even commoners if they are able to be inturned in the necropolis, based oh how unextravagant in sound in comparison. But this is just a guess.]

Crescent Fane– Another chamber of burial, described vaguely as having sunken black walls, with bowls of silver flames [I am not sure if this is a descriptor for veilfire or something else entirely.] around each coffin. [‘A Flame Eternal’] The only known person interred here is a woman named Mathilde, whose husband’s skull became restless until they were once again joined together. [Fane, also means a temple or shrine, so it is possible this is a temporary resting place for the recently dead, maybe to prepare them or just until they are moved to a more final resting place, as Emmrich mentions Mathilde passed ‘in her sleep, last midnight.’]

Hollow Belfry– This seems to be a common area, or main spoke. Several hallways branch off into the other chambers of the Necropolis. The center has a lowered portion where Myrna and Vorgoth tend to be stationed, alerting watchers to hauntings & providing the guild market. It also has an upper atrium.

The Memorial Gardens– This is where public days of mourning are held, while we don’t know it’s original location we do know that this chamber went missing before appearing at the vault of the Beloved [Which, in my opinion is in some way the Necropolis foreshadowing Emmrich & Rook getting together (conditional) since this seems to be Emmrich’s favourite spot to wander, and well Vault of the Beloved… anyways I digress.] The Garden is a cemetery that spralls outward amongst an array of flowers and statues.  This includes the Tableau of the Dead, created from real skeletons in 7:20 Storm. As well as the large statuary monument ‘Love in Life and Death’ which displays two skeletons kissing among other posed figures, overgrown with a flower called shrouds kiss. This is a statue dedicated to the enduring passion of those bound by love. We know that the Rites of Rememberance can be performed by Watchers here as well as a meditative puzzle involving the cleansing bells. In addition to that, the only known/named people to be buried here are Rupert & Elannora Volkarin [Emmrich’s parents], and  the last tomb of the Tanhanhausen line. 

The Path of Glory– Just off to the Side of the Memorial gardens. It holds rooms featuring boardgames, grave mist, and such along with it’s skeletons. This is alo where Emmrich prepares an intimate dinner date for Rook if Romanced. [Trying to confirm]

The Path of Sighs– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Shrouded Halls– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Spectral Court– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’.

Unspoken Valley- Mentioned briefly in banter between Bellara and Emmrich for good places to learn more about Spirits. It’s briefly mentioned that the ‘nightmare fog’ has overwhelmed it.

Upper Mortuary- in banter with Neve, Emmrich mentions he left several of his books in his apartment at the Necropolis. When questioned if most Mourn Watchers live on the Necropolis grounds, he simply replies that the ‘Upper Mortuary is quite pleasant.’ this to me signifies that he is not the only one, and/or this could be one of many more residential areas within the Necropolis. I would assume if this is an area for high up faculty, students and trainees may be housed elsewhere.

Vault of the Beloved– One of the ‘Lost Watcher’s Wings’. This is the new resting place of the Memorial Gardens.

Weeping Vale– We simply do not know much about what the Weeping Vale is, but dialogue between Emmrich and Rook (conditional to Mourn Watch) tells us that recently there was a problem solved by the Mourn Watch to stop wandering cenotaphs from appearing. [A cenotaph is a memorial or monument to someone whose body is buried elsewhere. This is typically done to honor those who died in war, but not always.]

Flora of the Necropolis– I cannot find much on plants related to Nevarra specifically, but some are mentioned directly: variegated weeping widower, shrouds kiss, & unknown willows capable of making their own noises [Codex: New Fauna].

Hunter Fell– A small city west of the capital. This is where King Caspar Pentaghast is from, as well as the location of the tea house that Charter calls a meeting of spies to discuss the movements and motivations of Solas. [Tevinter Nights: The Dread Wolf Take You] The only other thing to really note is that when Tylus Van Markham seized the throne from King Nestor Pentaghast [5:37 Exhalted], several surviving Pentaghasts fled to Hunter Fell. Eventually in 9:42 Dragon, the Inquisiton was called in to investigate Duke Tythas Pentaghst, ruler of Hunter Fell. He commanded a network of spies and warriors called the ‘Five Belles of Hunter Fell’ suspected of being tied to the Venatori.

Cumberland– One of the largest cities in Thedas, it sits South of Nevarra city, where the Imperial highway forks and portside to the Waking Sea. Not only does it function as a major trading port but also as a seat of immense knowledge. Home to the College of Magi, which is thought to bear the brightest mages and scholars throughout Thedas. It is also where many tournaments of combat, and archery are held. The current ruler is Duke Sandral Anaxas.

College of Magi– The college of Magi sits at the center of the city the Sun Dome’s golden exterior and massive spires making the city itself seem gilded and brilliant.  The palace itself was gifted to the Chantry by  a Nevarran Duchess. Keeping with the Nevvarran tradition of statues, the College of Magi is no different, the entryway featuring busts of ever Grand Enchanter from the last 600 years since this is the place from which they are chosen by a council of First Enchanters. The College of Magi is thought to bear the brightest mages and scholars throughout Thedas, some of which then move on to recruitment with the Mortalitasi.

Additional notes about historical events at the College of Magi [& some Dorian and Ashur lore]: In 9:38 following the Kirkwall Rebellion, the Chantry disbands meetings of the College of Enchanters [Based on context and what I am able to find, it seems the College of Enchaters is the name of the council of First Enchanters.], as well as any unsanctioned mage gatherings. This meant the dissolving of mage fraternities. This is also around the time that former Warden Fiona is elevated to the position of Grand Enchanter. [Wynne blames this as the reason the conclave was disbanded.] Grand Enchanter Fiona was quick to begin campaigning for independence, leading a vote among the College of Enchanters to secede from the Chantry entirely. Though the vote did not pass, the existence of the vote was enough for the Templar order to call for the dissolution of the College of Enchanters. More political unrest insues leading to Divine Justinia II calling for a meeting of the College of Enchanters, now disbanded, to the White Spire instead of their traditional seat in Cumberland. This lead to Grand Enchanter Fiona once again pleading for secession, causing High Seeker Lambert to declare the College of Enchanters treasonous. After a daring rescue of some of the enchanters, Fiona once again led a vote on succession in Cumberland. This time since too few first enchanters remained, some having died in capture, the fraternities casted their votes. This lead  ultimately to the dissolution of the circles and the movement towards mage freedom. The factions mentioned above include:

Aequitarians– This is the most dominant of the fraternities in the College of Magi. Their ideology is moderate, and thus popular. It is that mages must use their abilities ethically, and responsibly within society regardless of Chantry law. They believe mages have the power to help people, and should be doing so. Historically leaders of this group include Wynne & Rhys.

Isolationists– While less popular, this smaller faction simply believes mages should separate from the Chantry, and society as a whole. Creating their own systems and culture without any scrutiny towards the practice of magic or danger towards those without.

Libertarians– This group desires the Circle to become self governed and separate rom the chantry. While on the surface the Libertarians seek to do this peacefully, a subgroup of resolutionists within the faction have no issue usng violent means to achieve this. This group has been led historically by Fiona & Adrian.

Loyalists– As the name implies this group is the most devout, following the word of the Chantry. They are often viewed negatively by other mages for being apologists to the oppression faced by mages.

Lucrosians– the smallest fraternity amongst the College of Magi, these mages simply align themselves with the priority of gaining wealth, and political influence over any social cause.

In Veilguard we receive a conversation between Dorian Pavus and Ashur [who may or may not be Divine Aequitas II] in which Dorian comments, ‘Speaking of brash rebels, remember Cumberland? Spring of ‘38?’ to which Ashur replies ‘I wish I didn’t.’ This has had me so curious as to why they were present, were they part of the fraternities that helped vote against the circles since fraternities voted in the place of first enchanters? Or were they simply there as support to keep templars from intervening the College of Enchanters meeting. Either way. Super interesting additional lore on Dorian & Ashur. We know Dorian was part of the Lucerni [a faction dedicated to redeeming and restoring Tevinter] but that is a group exclusive to the Magistirium and not one of the fraternities of the College of Magi. In fact it is more than likely closer tied to the Shadow Dragons. [If you want a less summarized version of 9:38 Dragon, most of the information comes from Dragon Age: Asunder.]

Diamond Lass– in the ‘Dragon’s Den’ district of Cumberland, this is a luxury inn. Drinks are said to be served with crystal goblets alongside runes said to keep the beverage cold.

‘Dragon’s Den’– This is a walled off sector of town, adjacent to the more wealthy quarters of the city. It functions as a Dwarven trading hub and due to his most of the buildings are described to have distinctly Dwarven Architecture.

Forsythia Estate– This is the ancestral residence of the noble house Forsythia

Thank you all for the kind words on my first lore post. In this next section I tried to break down several key locations. If there are ones you'd like to see that I did not explore please let me know! If there is anything I missed or got incorrect, I am open to corrections! Additionally I would love any additional descriptions or information about the sections of the Necropolis, information is scarce, so any additional notes are welcomed. For more posts on this topic, they will be marked on my page under the tag Nevarran lore.

I hope for this to be a resource for fic writers but also knowledge for my fellow lore nerds. More will be posted soon as feel sections become complete.

Update Edits: More insight on the shifting chambers of the Necropolis, and additional lore on the Basalt Hypogeum. Thank you guys for the feedback <3

[uglypastels]

the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain, 

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside. 

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet. 

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater. 

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance. 

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly. 

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

 ‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door. 

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you. 

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you. 

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement. 

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead. 

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement. 

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter. 

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares. 

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly. 

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued. 

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from. 

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation. 

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence. 

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to. 

 ‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’ 

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it. 

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece. 

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with. 

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates. 

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’ 

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’ 

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’ 

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile. 

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you. 

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you. 

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted. 

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks. 

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat. 

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point. 

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people. 

Deep breath in. 

Out. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you. 

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened. 

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve. 

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’ 

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it. 

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease. 

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest. 

Silence. 

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit. 

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

  ‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately. 

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours. 

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you. 

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you. 

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you. 

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small. 

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements. 

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience. 

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses. 

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked. 

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise? 

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

  ‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time. 

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly. 

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect. 

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after  everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you. 

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer. 

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’ 

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work. 

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him. 

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag. 

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled. 

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’ 

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt. 

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste. 

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again. 

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner. 

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter. 

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart. 

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit. 

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed. 

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out. 

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you. 

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven. 

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie. 

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle. 

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up. 

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more. 

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees. 

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak. 

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic. 

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest. 

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’  he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly. 

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle. 

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints. 

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy. 

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly. 

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact. 

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made. 

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts. 

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’ 

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’ 

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot. 

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more. 

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand. 

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort. 

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter. 

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over. 

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’ 

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’ 

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly. 

And you were tired. And hungry. 

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water. 

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you. 

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating. 

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’ 

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you. 

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet. 

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

you can find my other writing here

[autisticsonic]

My take on a Sonadow fankid! She actually existed for a while now, but the trend gave me motivation to finally draw her!

Most sonadow fankids are purplish and tube-grown, so I decided to make her neither!

Background for the story under cut, in case it gets long!

So in this AU, stories from the more recent games happen when Sonic and Shadow are at most around 20 years old. Back then Sonic was rambunctious and reckless as we know him to be, and Shadow was a depressed, traumatized emo kid. While at first they were rivals as depicted in the games.

Over the years tho, just like their friends, the two matured. They started getting along a lot more, and became official friends, which eventually lead to dating. They both were afraid of getting serious though, so they took things slow and casual. Due to some of their unresolved issues, they couldn't get any closer. But not for much longer.

Some of it has been brought on by a Particular Event, and some of it due to restructuring how they go about saving the world, but things changed. As Forces has shown, putting so much responsibility on One Guy isn't wise. Sonic felt so quilty for failing, but it never should've been his job alone, so they created an organization, to share the load more evenly!

The org became global, with local groups of heroes being recruited all around, meaning that now the characters we know and love now had more time to take care of their personal lives.

While for some the change hasn't been much, Sonic, and to a lesser extent, Shadow, struggled quite a lot. Many of things happened in between, but eventually both of them grew to quite enjoy the domestic life.

They moved in together, and started taking things to the next level, now that both have done some healing and therapy. They found that they get along quite great. After a bit longer, they decided to start a family :)

Shadow came up with the name. He wanted to honor his sister's memory, but Mar-Mar was also a symbol of all his progress. He did go to therapy to make sure that he can handle them sharing a name, to see if it's a good idea, and well, it was!

She's now 4 and very loved, and her dads love each other very much as well. For a certain Sonic though, things won't go so great.

[blueiscoool]

‘Incredible’ Mosaics Were Found in an Ancient Luxury Home in Rome

Italy’s Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano has called the works “an authentic treasure.”

Researchers working in the Archaeological Park of the Colosseum in Rome have shared their discovery of luxurious mosaic-tiled rooms found in an ancient home on the site, which they believe may have belonged to a Roman senator. Created from shells, glass, white marble, and Egyptian blue tiles, the mosaics have been described by Italy’s Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano as “an authentic treasure”.

The “rustic” mosaics, found on the grounds surrounding the Colosseum in the heart of the city, date to the late Republican Age, in the last decades of the second century B.C.E., and show a series of figurative scenes. They once decorated a townhouse, or domus, owned by an upper class citizen. Italy’s Ministry of Culture have said that “due to the complexity of the scenes depicted” and their age, the mosaics are “without comparison.”

One mosaic depicts a coastal city with towers and porticos, with three large ships floating by on the ocean waves. The culture ministry believes this could be a reference to naval victories achieved by the owner of the home, which is believed to have been a Roman senator. This is supported by historical sources describing the area as having been occupied by such high-ranking members of society.

The decorated walls were likely located in the home’s dining rooms, where luxurious banquets would be hosted, and guests at these events were likely wowed with “spectacular water games,” according to the culture ministry, based on the presence of lead pipes set into the walls.

In the reception room, an extremely well preserved decorated stucco featuring landscapes and figures was also discovered. Other designs include vines and lotus leaves flowing from vases, musical instruments, and tridents.

The mosaic walls were first discovered near the Colosseum in 2018, but excavation at the site will continue into 2024, and more rooms could be discovered. Alfonsina Russo, the Director of the Archaeological Park of the Colosseum, has said that once the domus is full uncovered, “we will work intensely to make this place, among the most evocative of ancient Rome, accessible to the public as soon as possible.”

By Verity Babbs.

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Taylor Swift is a Female Rage icon? Get a Grip.

I’ve just received word that Taylor Swift is calling her show “Female Rage: The Musical.” Here is my very much pissed off response to that nonsense:  

The phrase, Female Rage has an intimately rich history:  

Some of the first accounts of female rage dates to the Italian renaissance. To be clear, women in those days were not allowed to become painters- the arts were seen as the domain of men. They did not believe that women have rich inner lives capable of delivering the type of artistic innovation with which renaissance men were obsessed.  

However, rebels abounded, through the might of their fucking rage. Several women created some of the most compellingly emotional paintings I’ve ever fucking seen. They did it without permission, without financial support, and often under the threat of punishment. They did it as a protest. In paintings like “Timoclea Killing Her Rapist” by Elisabetta Sirani (1659), and another by Artemisia Gentileschi “Slaying of Holofernes” (1612) as it depicts the bravery of Judith as she slayed a traveling warlord out to rape Judith and enslave her city. The painting often is referred to as a way Artemisia was envisioning herself as slaying her rapist. These paintings were used against these women as proof that they were unfeminine- and far too angry.  Both these women suffered immensely for their audacity to call attention to the violation men perpetrated on them. Female Rage bleeds off these paintings- bleeds right through to the bone-deep acknowledgement of the injustice women faced being barred from the arts and having their humanity violated in such a sick way. Both women were hated- and considered far too angry.

In philosophy, also as early as the 15th century, an example of female rage is a philosophical text, often hailed as one of the first feminists works in the western world, written by Christine de Pizan titled The City of Ladies (1405). She wrote in protest on the state of women- writing that “men who have slandered the opposite sex out of envy have usually know women who were cleverer and more virtuous than they are” (“The City of Ladies”). People mocked her all her life- but she stood fast to her convictions. She was widowed at a young age with children to feed and the men wouldn’t let women have jobs! She wrote this book and sold it so that she could feed her family- and to protest the treatment of women as lesser than men. Her work was called aggressive and unkempt- they said she was far too angry. 

In the 18th century, a young Mary Wollstonecraft wrote, A Vindication of the Right of Women ( 1792) upon learning that the civil rights won in the French Revolution did not extend to women! She wrote in protest of the unjust ways other philosophers (like Rousseau) spoke about the state of women- as if they were lesser. She wrote to advocate for women’s right to education, which they did not yet have the right to! She wrote to advocate for the advancement of women’s ability to have their own property and their own lives! The reception of this text, by the general public, lead to a campaign against Wollstonecraft- calling her “aggressive” and far too angry.  

Moving into modernity, the 1960’s, and into literary examples, Maya Angelou publishes I know why the caged Bird Sings (1969) in which she discusses the fraught youth of a girl unprotected in the world. It beautifully, and heart-wrenchingly, described growing up in the American South during the 1930’s as it subjected her to the intersection of racism and sexism. The story is an autobiographical account of her own childhood, which explains how patriarchal social standards nearly destroyed her life. Upon the reception of her book, men mostly called it “overly emotional” and far too angry. Maya Angelou persisted. She did not back down from the honesty with which she shared her life- the raw, painful truth. With Literature, she regained a voice in the world.  

Interwoven into each of the examples I have pulled out here, is the underlying rage of women who want to be seen as human beings, with souls, dreams and hopes, yet are not seen as full members of society at the behest of men. They take all that rage, building up in their souls, and shift it to create something beautiful: positive change. Each of these cases, I have outlined above, made remarkable strides for the women as a whole- we still feel the impact of their work today. They were so god-damn passionate, so full of righteous anger, it burst out into heart-stopping, culture-shifting art. Feminine rage is therefore grounded in experiences of injustice and abuse- yet marked too by its ability to advocate for women's rights. It cannot be historically transmogrified away from these issues- though Taylor Swift is doing her best to assert female rage as pitifully dull, full of self-deprecation, and sadness over simply being single or losing money. She trivializes the seriousness with which women have pled their cases of real, painful injustice and suffering to the masses time and time again. The examples above deal with subjects of rape, governmental tyranny, and issues of patriarchally inspired social conditioning to accept women as less human than men. It is a deadly serious topic, one in which women have raised their goddamn voices for centuries to decry- and say instead, “I am human, I matter, and men have no right to violate my mind, body, or soul.”  

The depictions of female rage over the last few centuries, crossing through many cultures, is an array of outright anger, fearsome rage, and into utter despair. The one unyielding, solid underpinning, however, is that the texts are depicting the complete agency of the women in question. The one uniting aspect of female rage is that it must be a reaction to injustice; instead of how male depictions of female rage function, (think Ophelia), the women are the agents of their art with female made- female rage. They push forth the meaning through their own will- not as subjects of male desires or abuses, but as their own selves. That is what makes the phrase so empowering. They are showing their souls as a form of protest to the men who treat women like we have no soul to speak of.  

Taylor Swift’s so-called female rage is a farce in comparison. Let’s look at an example: “Mad Woman” (2020). I pull this example, and not something from her TTPD set, because this is one of the earliest examples of her using the phrase female rage to describe her dumb music. (Taylor Swift talking about "mad woman" | folklore : the long pond studio sessions (youtube.com)  

The lyrics from “Mad Woman” read “Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy/... And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry”  

How exactly is agreeing with someone that you are “crazy” a type of female rage in which she’s protesting the patriarchy. The patriarchy has a long history of calling women “insane” if they do not behave according to the will of men. So, how is her agreeing with the people calling her crazy- at all subversive in the way that artworks, typically associated with concept of female rage, are subversive. What is she protesting? NOTHING.  

Then later, she agrees, again, that she's “angry.” The issue I draw here is that she’s not actually explicating anything within the music itself that she’s angry about- she just keeps saying she's angry over and over, thus the line falls flat. The only thing this anger connects to is the idea of someone calling her angry- which then makes her agree that she is... angry. So, despite it being convoluted, it’s also just not actually making any kind of identifiable point about society or the patriarchy- so again, I beg, what on Earth makes this count as Female Rage?  

In essence, she is doing the opposite of what the examples above showcase. In letting an outside, presumably male, figure tell Taylor Swift what she is feeling, and her explicit acceptance of feeling “crazy” and “angry,” she is ultimately corroborating the patriarchy not protesting it. Her center of agency comes from assignment of feelings outside of herself and her intrinsic agreement with that assignment; whereas female rage is truly contingent on the internal state, required as within our own selves, of female agency. As I stated above, the women making female rage art must have an explicit agency throughout the work. Taylor Swift’s song simply does not measure up to this standard.  

Her finishing remarks corroborates the fact that she's agreeing with this patriarchal standard of a "mad" or crazy woman:

"No one likes a mad woman/ You made her like that"

Again, this line outsources agency through saying "you made her like that" thus removing any possibility of this song being legitimate female rage. There is simply no agency assigned to the woman in the song- nor does the song ever explicitly comment on a social issue or protestation of some grievous injury to women's personhood.

She honestly not even being clever- she's just rhyming the word “crazy” with “crazy.” Then later rhyming “angry” with “angry.” Groundbreaking stuff here.  

Perhaps Taylor Swift is angry, in “Mad Woman,” but it is not the same type of rage established in the philosophical concept of female rage of which art historians, philosophers, and literary critics speak. Instead, it is the rage of a businesswoman that got a bad deal- but it is not Female Rage as scholars would identify it. In “Mad Woman” I fear her anger is shallow, and only centered on material loss- through damaging business deals or bad business partners. She is not, however, discussing what someone like Christine de Pizan was discussing by making a case for the concept that woman also have souls like men do. In her book, she had to argue that women have souls, because men were unconvinced of that. Do you see the difference? I am saying that Swift’s concerns are purely monetary and material, whereas true examples of female rage center on injustice done against their personhood- as affront to human rights. Clearly, both things can make someone mad- but I’d argue the violation of human rights is more serious- thus more deserving of the title “Female Rage.”  

Simply put, Taylor Swift is not talking about anything serious, or specific, enough to launch her into the halls of fame for "Female Rage" art. She's mad, sure, but she's mad the way a CEO gets mad about losing a million dollars. She's not mad about women's position in society- or even just in the music industry.

She does this a lot. The album of “Reputation” was described as female rage. Songs in “Folklore” were described as female rage. Now, she’s using the term to describe TTPD, which is the most self-centered, ego-driven music I’ve heard in a long time.

Comparing the injustice, and complete subjugation, of women’s lives- to being dumped by a man or getting a bad deal- wherein she is still one of the most powerful women of the planet- is not only laughable, but offensive. 

[genderkoolaid]

So it is with Florence Hines, a Black singer and drag king who got her start on the stage sometime around 1891, when she began to receive particular notice for her performances with Sam T. Jack’s Creole Burlesque. When the show came to Paterson, NJ, on November 23, 1891, “hundreds were turned away from the doorway” before the Creole Burlesque was even scheduled to take the stage, according to the Paterson Daily Caller. In their review, they called out Hines in particular for being an “excellent male impersonator.” The Creole Burlesque was a standard minstrel show, featuring all Black performers, led by a white manager, giving skits, songs, and scenes that featured standard variety acts (everything from clog dancing to drag) set in a pre-Civil War Southern plantation fantasy. But within a few years, Sam T. Jack would launch The Creole Show, an important milestone in Black performance in America. For the first time, an all-Black revue was presented as a modern, staged performance — not as an “authentic” recreation of Black life. According to Whiting Up, a history of white face entertainment by Black theater historian Marvin McAllister, The Creole Show was “a major outlet for Black artists interested in… developing a comedic tradition that was racially grounded but not riddled with stereotyping.” In another important departure from tradition, instead of hiring a man to play the traditional lead role of interlocutor or master of ceremonies, Sam T. Jack hired Florence Hines. As a drag king, Hines performed a routine that made mock of the “dandy” — flashy, modern, young men who drank and dated openly, and wore the latest clothes. One of her most famous numbers was “Hi Waiter! A Dozen More Bottles,” whose first verse went: Lovely woman was made to be loved, To be fondled and courted and kissed; And the fellows who’ve never made love to a girl, Well they don’t know what fun they have missed. I’m a fellow, who’s up on the times, Just the boy for a lark or a spree There’s a chap that’s dead stuck on women and wine, You can bet your old boots that it’s me. Many white drag kings of the day also performed this song, and similar dandy characters. For these performers, the dandy was a way to needle the men in the audience. But for Black performers, taking on a dandy role was also a way of resisting degraded depictions of Black people that were common on stage at the time. As Kathleen B. Casey wrote in The Prettiest Girl on the Stage is a Man, “when worn by a Black performer, the tuxedo with tails, cane, cape and a top hat countered the image of the ragged, shoeless plantation slave.” Thus, Hines made a natural choice for a show that wanted to show an entirely new kind of Black performance. By 1904, The Indianapolis Freeman would report that Hines “commanded the largest salary paid to a colored female performer.” In their book, Out of Sight: The Rise of African American Popular Music, 1889-1895, Lynn Abott and Doug Seroff wrote that “Hines’s male impersonations provided the standard against which African American comediennes were compared for decades.”

[mayakern]

If you don't mind sharing, what happened to vanetta's ex Edmund and his new saintess gf?

oh boy, so, a LOT has happened here so BUCKLE UP.

(and here’s a picture of vanetta for context for the maybe 2 other ppl who will read this huge post, which i have tried to summarize)

TLDR: after vanetta “died” and was yeeted into time travel, edmund died and charlotte saved the world. but edmund got brought back… and he came back wrong.

but the full story is so much weirder than that:

the core conceit of this game is that we are time (and place) hopping every time the party levels up, and mostly this is pretty normal—someone who’s from an ancient time visits a future date and finds out their country no longer exists, someone from the future goes to an earlier time and is shocked by the severely lacking technology, etc etc

except for vanetta, who is not from the past or future. she is from a book series. and she has JUST discovered this.

our most recent time hop has taken us to a dystopian capitalist future that takes place in a big mall in outer space (think a combination of tron, zenon: girl of the 21st century, wall-e and other similar media), where our wizard comes from.

and as soon as we materialize there, vanetta is recognized as a “really high quality and authentic cosplayer” of, well. herself. the book series she is from (the briar path) is popular on a level that basically combines twilight, harry potter and the bible all in one. it is fantastically popular, but also pretty old, and also is continually getting remakes and re-releases and right now they are currently making a manga adaptation of it. and it has a very active fanbase that writes a lot of fan fiction. this is, somehow, incredibly plot relevant.

an npc shows vanetta the comic, which currently i think covers 2 of the books in the series, and it shows her being depicted as basically your typical shallow, unsympathetic villainess character. and it depicts her death: the moment when, on the ramparts of the palace she was meant to preside over, she is faced with an angry mob seeking her death on one side and the crown prince (edmund, her former fiance) and charlotte (the saintess, his new woman, who in the fiction of the book was isekai’d into the world of the briar path) on the other side. vanetta climbs onto the rampart and makes a big impassioned speech (aka a villain monologue) about how pathetic and horrible they all are and when charlotte makes a swipe at her, vanetta chooses to let it unbalance her, forcing charlotte to live on with the guilt of her death.

only, the real vanetta doesn’t die. she gets yeeted out of time and space with three other time travelers. and our story continues

anyway, back to present day, the manga adaptation has just reached the part of the series where edmund dies—something vanetta did not know about. but just because he died in the book doesn’t mean he died in real life.

see, edmund had some pretty devoted fans. and one of them, who thought edmund was robbed by the narrative, got into some ancient, evil magics and combining this with the immense power of FAN FICTION, he tried to bring edmund out of the novel and into real life, and in the process ended up fusing with him and also with a force called The Hunger, a roiling miasma of despair that was the ultimate evil in the novels.

and so they all fused together and became a new thing. a god. in fact, our yuan-ti paladin’s snake god. who uhh subjugates and eats all non-snake people. the creation of this god also uhh was a huge cataclysm that basically started the earth apocalypse that lead to everyone ending up in the sky.

vanetta has JUST managed to secure annotated copies of the entire series that include academic commentaries and notes on historical context and the first chance she gets she is reading them so hopefully i’ll get more info soon lol

[loveriotss]

AQUARIUM DATES WITH HIM ⸻ izuku midoriya + katsuki bakugo + shoto todoroki

INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, crack, headcannons, drabbles, smau WARNINGS — swearing + the picture for the posts don’t depict your gender/race/outfit or anything like that, just the pose!

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

⌗ izuku midoriya 🐢

he is a big aquarium geek!! he WILL get tons of merch from the gift shop…

taking izuku midoriya to the aquarium was like taking a little kid to one. you sigh to yourself as you watch him zip from tank to tank, his face pressing up against the glass panes as he gasps in awe. “y/n look, it’s a jellyfish! apparently this one can..” and there he goes, rambling off about some facts he read about it. you honestly find it cute that he’s fascinated by everything. “izu let’s go check out the turtles!” you say, grabbing his hand as you drag him towards the exhibit. “look at that one!!” he exclaims happily as he points to one particularly large turtle that seemed to be lazily floating near the glass. the day continued on, each exhibit was wonderful but it wasn't until you two passed the gift shop that his enthusiasm reached a fever peak. "wow, look at that!" he exclaimed excitedly. "do you want to go in?" you asked as you giggled at his happiness to which he nods hurriedly. and finally, one whole hour later you two emerge from the shop, his arms piled high with bags. plush dolphins, keychains shaped like jellyfish, and a tiny replica of the aquarium’s most famous fish swayed with each step he took. "i think you didn't get enough stuff" you teased as the tip of his ears went red. ♡

⌗ katsuki bakugo 🦈

he thinks all the fish are ugly and weak (except the sharks).

going to the aquarium with katsuki bakugo was a whole ordeal. first you had to beg him to come and now you have to convince him that this is not a waste of time! "come on kats, at least pretend you like it here!" you say as you pull him along by his arm, resulting in him just grumbling more. "look at this stingray! isn't it so cute?” “that shit looks like it got run over by a fatass truck-” “KATSUKI!” you yell as you slapped your palm over his mouth before he could spill out more profanities. you give a weak apologetic smile to the mother nearby who had her hands clasped over her little daughter’s ears. “there are little kids here kats, watch your mouth.” you warn. “whatever. can we go see the sharks already” he mumbles back as he scans the area for the shark sign. your face breaks out into a soft smile as you giggle. “if you wanted to see the sharks that badly you could’ve just said so!” you exclaim before leading him towards the shark tank. at least he thought that this fish wasn’t a piece of shit. ♡

⌗ shoto todoroki 🦀

he likes the touch tanks.

aquarium dates with shoto todoroki were always quiet and peaceful until he decides to drop a bombshell on you or tell you one of his outrageous theories. you and shoto strolled through the aquarium, fingers interlocked as you two were now standing in front of a tank that held a particular fish with red and white scales. “look sho! this one is red and white, just like your hair!” you say pointing towards it. “do you think this fish also has traumatic family issues-“ “okay shoto that’s enough, let’s go somewhere else” you say hurriedly before taking him to another section of the aquarium. “no way, they have touch tanks!” you exclaim with excitement as you pull him towards the tanks, peering over the glass to look at the small critters. you look over to your side and see shoto, who’s so close to the water that it’s practically touching his face. “you can touch them you know” you say to him as you slowly put both his and your hand in the water, gently caressing the shell of a little red crab. the touch tank had shoto HOOKED and it took you a while to finally get him away from it. ♡ 

NOTE — just a silly idea that was in my head :3 lmk if y'all want other characters too! (preferably request 3 at a time). i had sm fun making this aaa

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Sister

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Daughter of Viserys and Alicent) Rating - Smut Word Count - 3687

Y/n stood in the grass of the Red Keep’s gardens, playing with butterflies and spiderwebs. She wore a beautiful gown of green and was ignoring the scowls of her older brother Aegon sat in his usual attire with a cup of wine in hand. The two were supposed to be on a date together in the gardens as their mother Alicent demanded due to their upcoming wedding.

Aegon watched Y/n prance around in her fancy gown and he rolled his eyes, "What nonsense are you even saying?"

"Why are you so grumpy big brother?" She asked as she turned to him pulling her face to make a frown

Aegon crossed his arms and glared at Y/n. "Why do you think, Y/n? We're on a date and you're acting like an idiot, prancing around instead of spending real time with me. I bet you don't even know how to have fun."

"oh… Okay," she giggled hopping over to his bench and sitting on the grass beside the bench "Suggest the funs?"

Aegon raised an eyebrow, slightly amused despite himself. It seemed like Y/n was finally willing to listen and have some fun. "Well, for starters, we could go out and ride dragons. Or if you want something more relaxing we could do some archery or sword fighting practice." Aegon leaned closer and grinned. "Or we could do something even more exciting and get some wine and go for a little adventure around the Red Keep. Anything's better than just sitting around here in the gardens."

"adventure!" She giggled "We can go find all the tapestries or we can find the bones in the dungeons or we could find where all the rats sit!"

Aegon couldn't help but chuckle at Y/n's excitement and innocent enthusiasm. "Alright, an adventure it is. Let's go! Which one do you want to do first? The tapestries, the bones, or the rats?"

"whichever you like big brother" she giggled holding his hand and jumping up and down

Aegon smirked, "Well then, let's start with the tapestries. If we're going to find clues, they're as good a place as any to start. Lead the way, little sister."

Aegon grinned and set out with Y/n, ready for an exciting adventure through the castle in search of tapestries, clues and maybe even a little bit of trouble.

As Y/n took Aegon from one tapestry to another, pointing out the various details and symbols, Aegon started to see her in a new light. She might be a bit strange and eccentric, but she had a passion for learning and a curiosity that was refreshing. Aegon listened to her explanations intently, nodding along and adding a comment here and there. As the tour continued, he found himself enjoying the time with her, enjoying the way her eyes lit up with excitement as she pointed out the different stories woven into the tapestries.

She stopped at a particular tapestry in the library turning her head to the side as she looks at the tapestry, Aegon watched as Y/n stared at the tapestry, her eyes widening in surprise. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what had caught her attention.

"What is it? Is something wrong with this one?" Aegon stepped closer, studying the tapestry himself. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he knew Y/n had a unique way of seeing the world.

"… All the other tapestries are so literal?" She pouted "Kings, queens, dragons and castles … Why doesn't this one?" She asked pointing to the tapestry that depicted an old scene forgetting by time the meaning and reasoning of. The tapestry showed a woman lying nude with a dragon wrapped around her as if mating

The image of the woman wrapped in the dragon's embrace left Aegon feeling a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He had never heard a story of a Targaryen queen… no, of any woman having an intimate relationship with a dragon. Aegon turned to Y/n, his eyes still fixed on the tapestry. "I-… Do you know what the meaning of this tapestry is, Y/n?"

"… I assume dragon blood or Targaryens mating with normal people of Westeros? I guess? Or … Maybe in old valyira having dragon blood was literal?"

Aegon could feel his face heating up as he listened to Y/n's explanation. The possibility of Targaryen queens mating with dragons was a strange and disturbing thought, but from the tapestry, it was undeniable that it had occurred. Aegon cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "Well… I suppose it's possible that in old Valeria some Targaryens were so obsessed with their connection to dragons that they took it that far. But even then, it still feels… wrong."

"I don't know maybe it's just art .."

Aegon nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "Yes, maybe it's just art. A strange and unusual depiction, but perhaps it's just someone's imagination runs wild. Let's move on to the next tapestry, shall we?"

Aegon smiled, doing his best to push away the uneasy feeling of the last tapestry as he and Y/n turned to the next one, hoping to find something more mundane and less disturbing there.

She giggled moving close to the new tapestry, she laughed hard as she brushed her hand on it,

Aegon blinked in surprise as Y/n burst into laughter, seemingly amused by something on the tapestry. "What is it?" Aegon asked, puzzled by her reaction. He turned to the tapestry, but didn't see anything funny or amusing. All he saw was yet another dull depiction of a Targaryen king and his sword Blackfyre. Aegon leaned closer to Y/n, curious as to what could have made her laugh so hard.

"sword." She giggled

Aegon raised an eyebrow, wondering if Y/n had finally lost her mind. "What about the sword? It's not that funny." Aegon scoffed, trying to figure out what was so amusing about Blackfyre. As far as he could see, it was just a plain old sword, even if it was Valyrian steel.

"I like to imagine that whenever they depict kings and their swords they play with the size and perspective based on the kings .. you know"

Aegon couldn't help but chuckle as he realized what Y/n was saying. He had never thought of it before, but now that she mentioned it, it was amusing to think that kings would exaggerate the size of their swords in their own tapestries to appear more impressive. "You know what? You might be onto something here. I never really considered that before, but it does make a certain kind of sense. Maybe this king was compensating for something?" Aegon grinned, his mood lightened by her observation.

"Maybe you'll have a tapestry when your king and your sword will be the size of the whole! Thorne room!"

Aegon laughed at that, imagining himself in a tapestry towering over the room with his sword as large as a mountain. "Now that would be a sight to behold. I can just imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they see me like that. They would think I was some kind of god! But I think I'll stick to real life and leave the gigantic sword-wielding for the tapestries."

"or that you were compensating,"

Aegon chuckled, conceding the point to Y/n. "You're not wrong. It would be quite obvious that I'd be overcompensating if I had a sword that big It's a good thing I don't have anything I need to overcompensate for in the first place." Aegon grinned, teasing Y/n. "But you should worry more about your own tapestry, little sister.”

"I won't get a tapestry" she giggled "I'd be happy just as a name on a family tree in the books that's all" she giggled, "I don't know Aegon I've never seen your sword I don't know if it needs overcompensating,"

Aegon grinned, still teasing Y/n. "You think you're so humble, don't you? But don't pretend like you don't want your own tapestry just like me and Aemond. I bet deep down you want to be depicted with a thousand giant bugs as your loyal soldiers. And don't pretend like you're not curious about my sword size now. Perhaps I should invite you to the training yards more often to witness its full glory firsthand."

"why? I could find out now if I wanted"

Aegon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Y/n's remark. He couldn't help but chuckle, amused at the audacity of her words. "Are you really suggesting what I think you're suggesting, little sister? You want to… see my sword right now?"

Aegon smirked, leaning closer to Y/n. "I could if I wanted"

Aegon chuckled, enjoying the playfulness in Y/n's eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for then? Go ahead, take a look."

she giggled and gave his nose a kiss before she knelt on the wooden floor and held out her hands "Sword please"

Aegon's heart skipped a beat at the small kiss, enjoying the playful mood between them. He smiled, amused by her request. "Alright then, little sister. You can have my sword for a moment." He unstrapped his sword from his hip and rested it in her hands, watching her closely to see what she would do.

she held the old sword on her hands but immediately tossed it on the floor "Sword please"

"Y/n! what are you doing? Why did you throw the sword on the floor? I thought you wanted to see it!"

"I do."

Aegon's confusion deepened. He picked up the sword from the floor and placed it back in her hands. "Here, take it again. But be careful with it. Valyrian steel is prized for good reason and it's not something to be casually tossed aside."

she immediately tossed it again

Aegon's eyes widened in disbelief as Y/n tossed the Valyrian steel sword again. "What in the name of the Seven are you doing? Valyrian steel is valuable and difficult to come by! Why are you treating it like a toy? Do you have any idea what that sword is worth?"

"sword" she giggled putting her hand on his belt

“Oh…” Aegon's confusion gave way to amusement as he realized what Y/n was really asking for. He chuckled, enjoying her playful antics. "Alright, you little menace. I think you've had your fun with my sword. But since you've been such a good sport, I suppose I can give you a different kind of sword to play with." With a smirk, Aegon reached for his belt and loosened his trousers slightly, then took Y/n's hand and placed it on his soft cock, "There, now you've got your hands on a different kind of sword. But remember, this one is even more valuable and needs to be handled with care. And it's definitely not for tossing around like a toy."

she pouted slightly "oh …"

Aegon chuckled at her pouty expression, finding her attempt at disappointment amusing. "Do I detect a hint of disappointment in your voice, little sister? What's wrong, is my sword not to your liking?" He grinned, teasing her.

she pouts and gives him sad puppy eyes "why doesn't your sword want to play with me Aegon?"

Aegon's heart melted a little at her sad puppy eyes, but he couldn't help but continue to tease her. "Oh it wants to play with you, Y/n, but it's a very special sword, and it only plays with people who deserve it." He smirked, reaching out to muss her hair affectionately.

"does it need rubs?" She asked taking him in her hand and stroking back and forth attempting to harden him,

Aegon chuckled, his amused expression quickly changing to one of surprise as he felt her hand on him. "Rubs? I didn't realize you were such an expert in sword care, little sister. But I'll admit, a few gentle rubs might help him feel… more playful."

Aegon couldn't help but smile at her innocence and the playful banter between them. Aegon's smirk deepened as he felt her hands moving on him, and he couldn't help but marvel at her naivete and confidence. "You're a natural at this, you know that? Just a few minutes ago you were tossing swords on the floor, now you're handling this one like a pro." He chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her touch and her innocent curiosity.

"Aegon! Why won't he play with me big brother?" She whines

Aegon chuckled, finding her innocent determination to make him respond quite endearing. "Why do you think, Y/n? Perhaps it's because you're playing with him too gently. Maybe you need to be a little more… assertive in your approach. Show him how much fun you can really be."

she nodded and began to kiss him pressing her lips softly to his hardening erection,

Aegon's eyes widened slightly at the sudden sensation of her lips on him, mixing with the gentle touch of her hands. He gasped slightly in surprise, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through his body. "Oh… " He gasped, feeling himself grow harder under her touch. "That's more like it, little sister. You're beginning to understand how to handle this sword now."

she peppered kisses all over him, "more!" She giggled

Aegon groaned as her kisses drove him wild, his hardness growing with each touch. "You have the touch of a dragon queen, Y/n. You know just how to handle this sword." He couldn't help but laugh at her eagerness and the sound of her giggling as she continued "Yes, yes… more… I think you've nearly got it now, little sister."

she giggled and began lapping at him as she kissed, and rubbed clearly egar to get him as hard as possible

Aegon's breath caught in his throat as her tongue and kisses sent waves of pleasure through his body, his hardness growing harder under her touch. "Oh gods, Y/n… yes, keep doing that…" He groaned, struggling to speak as her touch seemed to take him over, bringing him closer to the edge. "I… I think you've finally found the correct way to play with my sword, little sister."

She giggled and pulled back tapping him with her fingers and giving him kisses playing with his now completely hard state, playing around him him like he was her own little toy,

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you, little sister? Do you like seeing what you've done to my sword? Feeling the effects of your touch?"

"I wanna play with him everyday"

Aegon chuckled, a mixture of amusement and desire stirring within him. "Every day, hm? You're truly dedicated, Y/n. But I don't think my sword could handle that, even for a princess. He'll need a chance to rest and recover between all this play." He grinned, reaching out to caress her cheek gently."But of course, if you're willing, I'm more than happy to let you play with him again."

"every day!" She pouts "Please Aegon"

Aegon smirked, unable to resist her begging, especially after the incredible pleasure she had just given him. "Very well then, little sister. From now on, you may play with him everyday. He'll be at your disposal, ready to be wielded by your talented hands." He laughed, enjoying the spark of excitement in her eyes at his promise. "But remember, you must take care not to exhaust him too much. We don't want him breaking on your watch, hmm?"

"yay!" She giggled kissing him all over again

Aegon laughed softly, enjoying the feeling of her kisses all over him. "You're truly a wonder, Y/n. So playful and joyful, with such a fierce desire to learn." He ran his fingers through her hair, a smile on his face. "Just promise me you won't use that desire on anyone other than me while we're playing, little sister. This sword is for you and you alone."

"only my big brother" she giggled "Can I Aegon can I?"

Aegon chuckled, her innocence and eagerness bringing a warmth to his heart. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You ask for permission now, do you? I like that. You're learning to be a good little sister, Y/n." he smirked, "Of course you can, little sister. Play with my sword whenever you like. It belongs to you."

She nodded and took him, she began to suck, and lap her tounge, moving her head back and forth

Aegon moaned softly as her lips and tongue worked their magic on him, his body shuddering with pleasure. "By the Seven, Y/n, you… oh… you've got the gift of pleasing a man." He gasped, his heart racing as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away. He reached out, stroking her hair softly as she continued. "Just like that, little sister… just like that… you're doing so well…” Aegon's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as she continued her ministrations. His breathing grew heavier, filled with pleasure. "Yes, that's it… just like that… just keep doing what you're doing, little sister…" He groaned, closing his eyes as he surrendered to the sensations she was giving him, his body completely in her control.

A knock suddenly came from the door, Aegon tried to stop her but she wouldn't stop, "Y/n… stop… someone's at the door…" But he was powerless to actually stop her, his voice failing him as the pleasure overwhelmed him. He tried to compose himself, but his breathing was heavy and labored.

she pulled back and peppered him with kisses as the door knocked again "we are betrothed. You are to be my king. There is surely no shame in a servent witnessing the prince be pleasured? Let them in. Let them see." She cooed for once the mad girl giggles where gone and she sounded like a targaryen queen before she returned to her work

Aegon found himself both surprised and aroused by her words and her shift in demeanor. The door knocked again, and he hesitated for a moment, weighing her words. Finally, he called out. "Yes… come in." He watched as a servant entered, taking in the sight of them together. His eyes widened, clearly shocked by what he was witnessing.

"Your uhh your grace -"

Aegon chuckled, noticing the servant boy's reaction and that the boy already got hard at the sight of Y/n doing this to Aegon. "Yes, boy? Speak your mind. What brings you here? And by the gods, close your mouth before you catch flies."

the boy nodded and did his best to look away "I uhh your mother has invited you both to dinner tonight in the royal chambers at nine." The boy nodded and watched as if knowing she had an audience she worked even harder and more seductively, moaning and letting Aegon play with her hair

Aegon nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched Y/n's increased efforts. "Very well. We will be there." He turned back to the boy for a moment. "That will be all. Close the door behind you. After all we don’t need everyone knowing do we little princess?"

"no my master" she playfully cooed up to Aegon before she returned to her work

Aegon chuckled, enjoying her playful response as much as he was enjoying her mouth. "That's my girl" He smirked, looking down at the boy. "Get lost now. We have a few hours before we need to be anywhere and I intend to enjoy them."

the boy nodded and bolted from the room shutting the door again,

Aegon chuckled, leaning back against the couch as Y/n continued her work, clearly enjoying the newfound thrill of having a servant witness their intimacy. "You're quite the little minx, aren't you, Y/n? Playing with your king and putting on a show for that poor servant boy? You seem to be enjoying our game of secret pleasure more than I ever could have imagined." His hand threaded through her hair, guiding her movements as he savoured the sensations she gave him.

she giggled as she kept working not even slowing keeping up her moans her hands even moved to massage his stomach to help ease him to release

Aegon groaned loudly, the combined sensations of her mouth and hands bringing him close to the edge. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. "By the gods, Y/n… you're going to make me.. I'm going to… oh… yes, just like that… just like that…" His body strained as he felt his orgasm building, his breaths ragged and heavy. With a final, shuddering groan, Aegon reached his peak. Pleasure surged through his body like lightning as he released himself into her mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he gasped for air, panting heavily from the intensity of it all

she giggled as she pulled back the moment he hit it meaning his seed now coated her face, hair, dress, and a little in her mouth "ummm tasty Aegon"

Aegon looked at her, a mix of astonishment and amusement on his face. He couldn't deny the sight of her, coated in his seed and giggling, was incredibly arousing. "By the gods, Y/n… you never fail to surprise me. You're like a wanton little dragoness, aren't you? Not caring how messy you get, as long as you have your fun." He chuckled, reaching down to gently wipe her face with his fingers, his eyes filled with desire.

she only giggled licking her hands and face excitedly "did I do good?"

Aegons' smirk widened, watching her lap up his seed with her tongue. "Yes, Y/n. You did very, very good. But you made quite a mess, didn't you? We'll need to clean you up before we attend dinner tonight."

"oww… No more play time?" She whines

Aegon chuckled, leaning down to gently kiss her forehead. He knew she was still somewhat inexperienced and didn't yet understand the consequences of her actions. "No more play time for now, little sister. We must clean you up and get ready for dinner. There will be plenty more playtime later, I promise you. But we don't want to keep our mother waiting, and we certainly don't want her or anyone else at the table tonight to see you in such a… disheveled state, right?"

she whined but nodded "fine…"

Aegon grinned, always a little amused by her impatience. "That's my good little sister. Now come here and let's get you cleaned up. We'll have you looking proper and presentable in no time." He took a nearby cloth and gently began wiping the mess from her face and hair, making sure to be careful and gentle as he did so. “Come on you can get ready for dinner in my chambers tonight,”

[aurelim]

Genres: Slice-of-life, coming of age, comedy, drama, romance, parody

Status: public demo here, updated as of 11/30/24 and includes episode 1 with 17k words, outline written

Rating: 15+

Content Warnings: Violence, language, bullying, depression + depiction of other mental illnesses, manipulation, tba

Inspired by those Disney Channel movies (you know which ones) and The Parent Trap.

As a 17 (soon to be 18) year old senior, you are anxiously awaiting for the day you graduate, pack your bags, and ditch Sunnyview, the sleepy, incredibly boring, town that you have grown up in all your life. It has been your dream for as long as you can remember—sometimes you can almost taste freedom on your tongue, so close yet so far away.

But one day, all of that changes when the filming for a movie is announced near your hometown. Not only is it a Stephen Zuckerberg, but it stars the recent award-winning actor Taylor Victory. Their presence stirs great interest and excitement in your small town. You did not care much about the actor beyond your keen interest in Stephen Zuckerberg movies, or at least, you thought you did not.

Until you have a chance encounter with the one and only Taylor Victory, and you notice the eerie facial similarities you share with them. Thus, a deal is struck between you.

You will swap places with each other—Taylor will experience a normal week of high school as you, and you will live the life of an actor in their place. Plus, their offer of money doesn't quite hurt, and with it you would have enough to leave Sunnyview.

Oh, how little did you realize how much trouble you were about to get yourself into.

↬ customize your name, nickname, gender, looks, personality, etc.! however you will think of yourself as a "regular, ordinary" person living a boring life.

↬ taylor's gender, pronouns, and looks will be identical to yours (with a few modifications)!

↬ take the place of a famous teen actor and perhaps get to film a few scenes. lie, cheat, gaslight, manipulate; whatever it takes to convince others that you are who you say you are. otherwise...

↬ fall in love with your best friend, the popular kid (aka your crush), your "co-star," or no one. break or make your relationships with them.

↬ celebrate your 18th birthday as taylor and all by yourself.

↬ attend prom as yourself. or taylor? you aren't quite sure what it is yet.

Taylor Victory (gender based on MC) → The Identical Twin

The actor who became well-known for their lead role in the romcom movie Swipe Right and won a Cinny award for it. Ever since Victory entered the entertainment industry at the age of 5, they have never been able to live a "normal" life. Until, that is, they meet you. They are charming, suave, and everything that you imagine an actor to be. Especially their cockiness.

Maxie Yang (gender selectable) → The Best Friend

You have known them ever since you were in diapers; your sweet, quirky, and incredibly reliable best friend since forever. They have always cherished you and you to them, acting as your shield when you used to be heavily bullied in middle school. They have a remarkable passion for art and is a total geek for mythology. Years later, Maxie remains the same as ever, though sometimes you catch their adoring gaze at you. Do they...no, probably not.

Tropes: friends to lovers, unrequited pining (on their part)

Kelsey Lovelock (gender selectable) → The Crush

Kelsey Lovelock is one of the popular kid at school...and has also been your longtime crush since 8th grade. You don't remember when it first began, but they have always treated you nice enough even if their friends are assholes and made your life hell the years before and during. Charismatic and currently in the running nominations for Prom King/Queen. They likely do not feel anything for you considering how little you have talked to them in your final year of high school…and they are dating someone else.

Tropes: acquaintance to friends to lovers, unattainable

Peyton Ryans (gender selectable) → The Co-star

Taylor's co-star in their upcoming movie together. And for whatever reason, they seem to hate Taylor with a passion. Unfortunately, they play as the protagonist (that's Taylor)'s love interest, so you often have to make contact with them. Perhaps you could try to persuade them to see a "different" side of Taylor and change their view. It all depends on how you play the game—just hope they don’t find you out.

Tropes: enemies to lovers, coworkers

FAQ

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [1] - A Night Out

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: A night out with an old friend can lead to surprises.

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to have a normal life.

Granted that was never in the cards but you liked to pretend from time to time. You knew it was selfish and incredibly dangerous as everyone kept reminding you, yet you didn’t care. After all, it was one of the very few luxuries you couldn’t afford and you were nothing if not determined.

Besides, considering since you were expected not to be a part of the family business, you figured you could enjoy the benefits for the time being.

So far, there was no sign of any bodyguards your father always made sure to put on your tail which meant he was blissfully unaware of where you were or what you were doing. If it were any other time, you would have been surprised by that alone but surprises seemed to be the theme of the week. To be completely honest, you had your doubts when your ex from college had contacted you to say he was moving to the city and wanted to catch up with you. Even though he was one of the very few ex-boyfriends you had broken up with on good terms, he still had an inkling about your family and most of the time, people were too intimidated by that to catch up with you.

With good reason.

But tonight was going to be different. Setting up a casual dinner and drinks night outside your father’s territory was a great first step for in your opinion, for a couple of hours you could pretend you were a normal girl who was having a normal night out with a normal guy.

You even drove your own car to the bar, something you hadn’t done in a long time.

“So yeah, let’s just say that it wasn’t the wisest decision.”

You let out a laugh, tilting your head.

“I don’t know Ethan,” you said. “Taking a girl to a horror themed corn maze? You get an A for effort.”

“In my defense, it was like two weeks after you broke up with me so I wasn’t thinking straight,” he said. “Besides, she said she liked horror movies.”

You hummed. “And how did that go?”

“Terribly,” he pointed out with a grin. “We got lost, and then I had this bright idea of finding the guide myself and we went in different directions, and she got out and I ended up getting even more lost.”

You pressed your palm on your mouth to hide your laugh.

“Then she sent the guide to find me,” he said and you cleared your throat, trying to keep a serious expression.

“You do realize you are the type of person who wouldn’t last an hour in a horror movie, right?”

“People who are trying to survive in horror movies have too much ambition if you ask me,” he said and sipped his drink. “How about you? Any terrible dates since our uh…fairytale romance?”

“We dated for like three months during sophomore year Ethan,” you said with a laugh and he nodded with a grin.

“They were good three months though.”

“Oh please,” you said. “I’m not even sure I could call that dating, I basically had to beg you to spend time with me.”

“We spent a lot of time—”

“In daylight,” you corrected yourself. “You had no problem finding time for me at night.”

He scrunched up his face, then nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah I’m��I’m sorry about that. I was an ass.”

“Water under the bridge,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “College is the perfect time for relationship mistakes, and to be honest I was kind of an idiot.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he said with a chuckle. “I was the idiot. You were perfect, you still are.”

You scoffed.

“Not even close, trust me,” you said and raised your hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. The bar wasn’t crowded by any means, only another couple by another booth and three men playing pool. A silence fell upon you and Ethan shifted his weight.

“So uh—can I ask you something?”

Your heart skipped a nervous beat but you made sure it didn’t show on your face. “Sure.”

“Was it…” he paused and took a deep breath. “Was it true?”

The waitress brought you your drink and you thanked her, then turned to Ethan again. “Hm?”

“You know, back in college there were all these rumors,” he stammered. “About your family and you never really said— whether they were true or not.”

Ah. Back to that, of course.

You had practiced this calmness way too many times for it to falter even for a moment, and you sipped your drink.

“I totally forgot,” you said. “Remind me what those rumors were?”

“People used to say your father—he and his business partners, I mean,” he said with a nervous laugh. “My friends used to say the city was divided between them.”

“Sounds quite medieval,” you pointed out, leaning back as a couple of men walked in, chattering. Ethan thought for a moment, then scoffed a laugh.

“Right,” he said. “I don’t know why I…don’t mind me. It does sound unreal, I mean—what are the chances that a couple of families rule the entire city, right?”

“I don’t know, I hear it was a thing in the 18th century,” you stated, catching the gaze of the man who had just walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. You eyed him up and down and by the time your gaze fell on the shape of the gun tucked underneath his jacket, you had already straightened your back, your whole body going tense.

“Jesus you should’ve heard the things they said. To be honest with you, I actually believed that whole underworld thing for some time,” Ethan said as the man said something to his friends while your eyes darted around the room, your heartbeat getting faster as you reached for the knife beside your plate.

Great.

This was not your ideal night out alright.

“Now to think about it, it’s not—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you threw the knife at one of the men and kicked the chair under Ethan, making him lose his balance before you flipped the table so that you could use it as a cover for you both as soon as the shooting started. The bullets wheezed past you, the couple by the other booth screaming while you pushed Ethan’s head down.

“What the hell is going on?!” he asked as you looked over the table for a second and turned to him, your heart beating in your ears, adrenaline rushing through you so fast that it made your head spin.

“I can explain later, do you have a gun with you?”

“What?!”

“I don’t think I should be repeating myself right now Ethan!” you hissed as shots echoed through the bar and he shook his head.

“No of course not!”

“The one time I ditch the bodyguards,” you grumbled “This is unbelievable…”

“Miss Y/N!” the man’s voice rang over the bar and you gritted your teeth. “The infamous princess. Such a surprise meeting you here, where are your daddy’s men?”

“On their way here I’m guessing but before they get here, I just have one question,” you called out. “Are you guys fucking idiots?”

He tsk tsked.

“That daddy of yours spoiled you too much,” he said. “Has anyone told you that?”

“Yeah, multiple men,” you retorted. “Didn’t end well for them I’ll tell you that.”

“I’d say it looks like it’ll end well for me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure buddy,” you said. “I’ll be surprised if you last the night.”

Several gunshots came from the corners of the bar, and you took cover again but before you could say anything else, you felt someone grab you and pull you upright. You grabbed the gun from him and fired it right at his knee, making him let out a scream of anguish and fall to the floor. The door of the kitchen was kicked open right before more guns were fired in the chaos which made it clear that it wasn’t Steve’s men who were trying to shoot you considering it was his territory, this was his one of many bars and these new people, whoever they were, were shooting at his men as well. It made absolutely zero sense that someone would attack you like this, especially since—

“Everyone stop or the next bullet goes through his head!”

 You turned to point the pistol at the owner of the voice but as soon as you did, your heart dropped to your stomach. The man –probably the leader— holding the gun at Ethan’s head smirked and motioned at you.

“Drop the gun sweetheart.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Ethan said, trying to get out of his grip but the man fired the gun through his shoulder, making him yell out in pain and you gritted your teeth. The headlights of a car flashed outside, capturing your attention for a moment before you lowered the gun, someone hastily grabbing it from you. The leader pushed Ethan to one of his friends and stepped closer to you, now aiming the gun at your face but you were way too good at keeping your fear under control in situations like these to flinch at it.

You’d had a lifetime of practice after all.

“So what do you say we take a little trip outside huh?” he asked and you arched a brow.

“What do you say you go fuck yourself?”

He cocked the gun and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh no, a gun,” you deadpanned, checking your fingernails. “Am I supposed to be scared now?”

“This is not your daddy’s territory, girl.”

You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glances from your nails. “Doesn’t matter, you idiot. The truce has been going on for years now, and anyone who breaks it will pay for that mistake with their lives. What is this, your first day on the job?”

“No one taught you not to smart mouth the man holding the gun?”

“No one taught you not to sign your own death sentence?” you asked back and he gave you a dry chuckle, taking a step towards you, still holding the gun.

“Keep talking like that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take my time with you before handing you over to the boss.”

You opened your mouth to retort but before you could say anything, a deafening shot echoed through the room and blood splattered all over your face and your dress. The leader’s lifeless body dropped to the floor and you wiped at your face with a grimace before you turned to glare at your savior who looked almost amused at your annoyed expression.

“Bucky,” you gritted out and he winked at you, that arrogant grin you knew so well pulling at his lips.

“Hi Charm.”

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece IV: Revolution

AO3 Part I Part III

“The difference between treason and patriotism is only a matter of dates.” ― Alexandre Dumas

When it comes to the idea of freedom in One Piece, there are two related yet separate tracts the manga takes. Both are worth looking into, and both have parallels within the broader Romantic movement. The first of these is the idea of personal freedom as exemplified by pirates. The other is the pursuit of systematic freedom by Dragon and the Revolutionary Army. Robin explains the difference between the two in the post-Enies Lobby arc. By raising the flag, pirates label themselves criminals as they go out to sea, but unless they’re the Straw Hats they don’t usually go around picking fights with the World Government. The goal of the Revolutionary Army, on the other hand, is to overthrow the Celestial Dragons, which would in essence end the World Government as it currently exists. 

I’ve seen criticisms thrown at the series that One Piece doesn’t go far enough in its revolutionary politics in that it’s not explicitly anti-monarchy. There are good kings and bad, and whether or not an island is a good place to live or not seems based more on the actions of individual people than the system overall. There are even strange cases like Iceburg who as mayor is in an elected position, but who also holds ridiculous power over the entire island’s economy after turning its biggest industry into a monopoly under his control. In the real world that would be a horrific amount of power for one person to hold, but because Iceburg himself is a good man, it doesn’t matter. 

While this train of thought is worth exploring, I think that many of these arguments miss the forest for the trees. One Piece is not a story told from the Revolutionary’s point of view. It’s a pirate manga that elevates any individual brave enough to dream. It’s through this lens that paragons of virtue like Iceburg are allowed to exist without being hashtag problematic. The Revolutionaries themselves sidestep much of the messiness that tends to follow real-world uprisings by having them portrayed as principled and virtuous to a fault. In chapter 1058 Dragon promises harsh disciplinary action against Sabo if it’s found that he killed King Cobra, when as an allied nation of the World Government, the king of Alabasta should technically be their enemy. 

This lionizing of individuals and specific institutions goes back to Mirriam-Webster’s 4a definition of romanticism, and as a children’s manga whose primary themes aren’t centered around systemic revolution, this simplicity is perfectly fine, although I personally think it would be more interesting if the Revolutionary Army was portrayed as more morally gray within the series. Despite this, there are also deliberate links between the Revolutionary Army and the historical Romantic movement. 

It starts at the very foundation of their concept and character design. Many of the highest ranking Revolutionary commanders have a European steampunk look to them, while Mariejois seems based on the Palace of Versailles. Oda would not have paired a shirtless man in a black feathered coat with a cravat had he not wanted to tap in at least a little into the design language of European historical fashion, and by extension, the French Revolution. This is best seen in the design of Belo Betty, who seems to be explicitly based on Eugune Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People, a French Romantic painting depicting a personified Liberty leading Frenchmen from all walks of life as they strive to overthrow the despotic King Charles X in the July Revolution of 1830.

The term French Revolution is itself wonderfully imprecise, as France has endured several revolutions, uprisings, and revolts. One does not go through two empires and four republics without a history of civil unrest, and to this day one of France’s favorite pastimes is protesting against the government about things they don't like. But for many scholars, the first of these Revolutions in 1789 was one of the major sparks of the Romantic movement, drawing sympathy from and giving inspiration to writers and poets throughout Europe. The Revolution itself was brought on by many factors, including writings of late Enlightenment/early Romantic writer Jean Jacques Rousseau, whose work The Social Contract pushed for for a free populous living under elected governments.

It seemed that all of Europe would follow suit. Portugal, Spain, Belgium, Switzerland, Poland, the German Confederation, and Northern Italy all saw liberal uprisings of some sort during the early 1800s. Some were successful, others weren’t, but all were instrumental in destabilizing the political landscape that had existed for centuries. This followed a process that had already started globally, as the United States, Haiti, and much of Latin America had already become independent of their colonial masters. There’s a push and pull that’s often seen between art and history, with one influencing the other in an eternal tug of war. Romantic artists painted the pursuit of freedom in a positive light, which inspired frustrated men and women to take up arms against governments they felt did not adequately represent them. In turn, these revolutionaries inspired the Romantics to write and paint about the heroic deeds they saw all around them. One of the most famous Romantics of all, Lord Byron, even died in 1824 after joining the Greek war for independence. Although Byron himself had no strong political ideology and thought all governments as equally bad, the mere act of revolution inspired his romantic spirit to take up arms and fight. 

While there is no real-world equivalent to the World Government of One Piece, the greatest atrocities committed within the manga have their basis in real life, including many of the cartoonishly evil acts of the Celestial Dragons. The Atlantic slave trade, genocide of indigenous peoples under colonial rule, and the crushing poverty of the underclasses were all everyday realities, and these were all things people fought against during this time of world-wide revolution.

Again, some of these movements were more effective than others, and not all of them required violence to achieve their goals. 1807 marked the end of the slave trade in England while in 1838 slaves were freed in British colonies across the world, something once thought unthinkable. In 1861 the tsar emancipated some 23 million Russian serfs, while the Romantic era in the United States ended with the American Civil war and its bloody quest to end chattel slavery in the States.

In a twist of irony, the very same political instability brought on by decades of war ensured that the Romantic movement in France developed later than it did elsewhere. By that time, the Reign of Terror and Napoleon’s wars split Romantics abroad, and several quietly distanced themselves from France and its Revolutions. It was in this post-Revolutionary world that Victor Hugo looked at the smoking wreckage left all around him and began writing Les Miserables. In the preface of this book, he writes, 

“So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth…so long as the three problems of the century - the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labour, the ruin of women by starvation and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible…so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this.”  

The three problems Hugo described exist now as they did then, and One Piece is in many ways a story of ordinary people with extraordinary dreams rising up above this artificially created hell to make a better world for themselves, and the people they care for. 

Other Romantics, disillusioned by a world that did not change as they would have liked, turned their search inward. For these, systematic change wasn’t the goal; personal freedom was. And it’s this inward, more spiritual journey that exemplifies the ideal pirate within the context of One Piece, as best seen by our main protagonist, Monkey D Luffy. 

[aquilaofarkham]

Dying Has Never Frightened Us: Intergenerational Trauma, Healing, & the Burden of Legacy in Castlevania

An analytical and interpretation essay that discusses how the concept of family legacy and duty can lead to intergenerational trauma in the Castlevania franchise. Focuses primarily on the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

☽ Read the full piece here or click the read more for the text only version ☽

THE BURNING NEED FOR RETRIBUTION: INTRODUCTION

The world has trauma. It is deep, collective, spanning its roots over centuries and territories dating back to when the borders of today never existed, and it has largely gone untreated—but not undiscussed.

From children’s cartoons to award winning dramas, trauma has become one of the most common topics for media to discuss, depict, and dissect. It makes sense given the sort of physical and mental gauntlet which society has been through in the past five years. Sometimes even in just the past twenty-four hours. From an uptick in disasters stemming from climate change, the rise of publicised policy brutality, genocide as a result of settler colonisation, new developments coming to light after decades of denial regarding the residential school system in Canada, and of course a global pandemic which is still making ripples. Then there is the recent examination of generational trauma which differs from culture to culture. The open wounds we’ve already left and will be leaving for future age groups.

Seeing how fiction reflects reality and vice versa, it isn’t any wonder that movies, television shows, and video games find ways of processing this worldwide sensation of frustrated ennui along with the need to find answers as to how regular citizens can fix things, including ourselves, when politicians and world leaders cannot. When reality cannot provide satisfying resolutions, when we are left confused and even angrier than before due to the apparent shortcomings of institutions meant to provide relief towards the average person, it’s natural to look towards specific media. Whether for coping mechanisms, validation for this collective and personal trauma, or simply for cathartic release so the emotions don’t have to remain bottled up.

Castlevania , both its original 2017 series and the most recent entry of Castlevania: Nocturne (as well as the video games which the show is inspired by), is no stranger to this popular trend of storytelling and characterisation. Yet this trend also comes with its own controversy. When done with a deft writer’s hand and a layer of empathetic critical thinking, trauma in fiction and how we heal from its intergenerational effects can be a powerful tool in raising awareness in regards to something left forgotten by the larger public or it can allow viewers to look inwards at themselves. Done poorly or with a lack of empathy and taste, then the floodgates open.

But beyond the usual discourse surrounding trauma in fiction (how to portray a “realistic” panic attack, what makes a “good” victim, the problematic connotations of forgiving one’s abuser, etc.), Castlevania has its own things to say about the lingering effects of grief, guilt, and pain over the course of thirty-two episodes (now a fourty episode runtime with the inclusion of Castlevania: Nocturne season one). The series—particularly the first which ran from 2017 to 2021—has now gained a reputation for being one of the darker animated ventures tackling themes of religious corruption, abuse, sexual manipulation, and injustice among many others. The value and thoughtfulness of each depicted theme ranges from being genuinely compelling to delving into mere shock value yet the series is also known for its uplifting ending and cathartic release from such dark themes.

One could write entire dissertations on each complicated character and their developments. From Dracula’s suicidal tendencies as a result of unchecked grief to Isaac’s conflicted redemptive journey beginning with his unflinching loyalty to the king of vampires and ending with him forging down his own path in life. How characters such as Carmilla, consumed by her inner agonies and burning hatred towards the world to the bitter end, was left isolated from her sisters until she was forced to choose the terms of her own death, while others like Alucard, Sypha, and to an extent Hector rose above their individual torments in favour of hope and survival. However, this examination will focus on the series’ titular family of vampire hunters. Namely, the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

Note: this essay will delve into speculations and purely interpretative hypotheses stemming from the author’s own opinions in regards to how they personally read the presented text. It will also discuss heavy spoilers for the majority of Castlevania games and the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne.

—

WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT FOR A CURSE: THE CYCLE OF TRAGEDY IN THE CASTLEVANIA GAMES

This examination begins in the exact same place as the show began with its inspirations and references: the original video games developed and distributed by Konami Group Corporations. It’s easy to get swept up in the notion that because of the technological limitations with video games at the time, the Castlevania games are devoid of story or characterization. Yet even the most bare bones of a story found in the games can still have something to say about the burden of legacy and how trauma left unconfronted has the possibility of tearing down that legacy. The most prominent example being Castlevania: Symphony of the Night , arguably the first game to begin delving into a deeper story and character driven narrative. It follows the events of Castlevania: Rondo of Blood , a game which portrayed its protagonist Richter Belmont as a force of nature in the face of evil, always knowing what to do, what to say, and emerging victorious without so much as breaking a sweat (or candelabra).

In keeping with the time of its release and the landscape of popular media particularly in Japan, Rondo of Blood feels like a traditional 1990s action anime complete with brightly coloured cutscenes and character designs reminiscent of Rumiko Takahashi and Rui Araizumi (despite the usual classic horror elements present in every Castlevania game). This is most evident with Maria Renard, the second playable protagonist who attacks with her own arsenal of magical animals and even has her own upbeat theme music during the credits when players complete the main story in “Maria mode”. Richter also shares many similar personality traits with his counterpart, namely his optimism in the face of danger and the confidence that he will be the hero of this narrative.

Of course all this changed in the direct follow-up to Rondo of Blood , the aforementioned Symphony of the Night . Arguably the new staple of future Castlevania games to come, not only did it change the gameplay and aesthetic, it changed the very core of the characters as well. The game even begins with the same ending as Rondo of Blood where Richter fights and defeats Dracula with the help of Maria. Then during the opening crawl, we discover that during a time skip, Richter has vanished and Maria is searching for him. Surely this will be nothing less than a heroic rescue and the most powerful Belmont of his century will be restored to his rightful pedestal.

Yet for the first half of Symphony of the Night , the player is faced with a sobering realisation—the villain we’re supposed to be fighting, the one responsible for conjuring Dracula’s castle back into existence, is Richter himself. No longer the hero we’ve come to adore and look up to from the previous game. Of course, the player along with new protagonist Alucard both know that something isn’t right; perhaps Richter isn’t in his sound mind or some nefarious force is possessing him to commit evil deeds. But unless the player solves the right puzzles and find the right in-game items, Symphony ends with Alucard putting down Richter like a rabid dog. However, this ending can be avoided and a whole second half of the game is revealed.

Richter’s canonical ending is left ambiguous at best, tragic at worst. He laments over his moment of weakness, claiming the events of the game were his fault despite Alucard’s insistence that confronting Dracula was always going to be inevitable. Still, the tragedy of Richter’s fate and how he is portrayed in Symphony of the Night comes much later, when it’s implied the Belmonts are no longer capable of wielding the fabled Vampire Killer, a leather whip imbued with supernatural properties that has been passed down generation after generation. One mistake and misjudgment left the Belmont legacy in a perpetual long lasting limbo with the titular hunters themselves seemingly disappearing from history as well, leaving others such as the Order of Ecclesia to pick up the fight against Dracula’s eventual resurgence. It isn’t until the height of World War II (the setting of Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin ) when the whip’s true potential is finally set free thanks to the actions of Jonathan Morris, a distant relative of the infamous vampire slaying family. However, the only way in which Jonathan can reawaken the Vampire Killer is by defeating a manifestation of the person who last wielded it and also whom the whip abandoned nearly two hundred years prior—Richter Belmont.

Yet players and fans don’t get to see it in the hands of another Belmont until the events of 1999 when Julius Belmont defeats the latest incarnation of Dracula and seals his castle away in a solar eclipse. Even then, he loses his memory until thirty years pass and he’s forced to do battle with Soma Cruz, an innocent transfer student who is also the reincarnation of Dracula. If the protagonist of Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow succeeds in defeating the cosmic threat that has awakened his supposed “evil” destiny, then Julius can finally lay down the Vampire Killer in peace (until the sequel Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow , of course). If not, the game ends with Julius keeping his promise to Soma should he lose sight of his human side and let Dracula be reborn once again. In a scene that directly mirrors the beginning of Symphony , Julius enters the castle throne room, Soma throws down his wine goblet, and the screen goes black. The cycle continues anew. Julius has upheld the duty of his family name but at what cost.

The theme of tragedy getting passed down through different generations, permeating from person to person even with those who are not Belmonts, is a staple of later Castlevania games following Symphony of the Night . In some instances, pain and trauma is what jumpstarts the story moving forward. Castlevania: Curse of Darkness begins with its protagonist Hector in a direct parallel to Dracula swearing revenge on the one responsible for the murder of his wife; an ultimatum that follows him every step of the way, fuelling his rage and determination up until the penultimate moment when his goal is within reach. Yet even then he cries out, claiming this “murderous impulse” isn’t truly him—it’s the result of an outside force he himself once aided before defecting before the events of the game.

Something similar occurs in Castlevania: Lords of Shadow , an alternative reimagining of the franchise that while still a topic of division amongst most die hard fans has also seen a resurgence of popularity and reevaluation. It begins with Gabriel Belmont grieving over the death of his own wife (a trope which is unfortunately common amongst the majority of Castlevania titles). This is a wound that follows him throughout his journey until an even more painful and shattering twist regarding Marie Belmont’s demise is revealed to Gabriel later in the game.

However, there is one example from the games that stands above the rest in regards to the sort of damage which generational trauma as a result of familial duty and legacy, upheld to an almost religious degree, can inflict. So much so that even a declaration of retribution can evolve into a generational curse.

—

HUNT THE NIGHT: LEON BELMONT & THE MYTH OF FREE WILL

The Castlevania timeline didn’t always have a set beginning. An inciting incident by which all future stories, characters, and inevitable calamities could base themselves off of. Rather it changed from game to game until a definitive origin was settled in 2003 with the release of Castlevania: Lament of Innocence . For at least two games, the starting point was supposed to be with Simon Belmont, making his way through a labyrinth of dark forests and cursed towns, before finally traversing the ever changing fortress in Transylvania to defeat Dracula. He even went as far as to gather the remains and resurrect the eponymous lord of his own choice just to rid himself of another curse entirely. 

Castlevania protagonists are always cursed by something. Whether it be the cause of Dracula’s influence, their own actions as seen in Lords of Shadow , a curse of the flesh like how Simon had to tackle his own ailment in Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest , or something else just as common as Dracula’s curse: the burden of honouring a family duty.

A basic yet iconic 1986 entry followed by a sequel that had potential especially with the first appearance of the now famous “Bloody Tears” track but suffered from a rather confusing and lacklustre end product. Then suddenly the starting point for the franchise timeline changed drastically. Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse despite the numerical inclusion in its title stands as more of a prequel, detailing the exploits of the Belmont who came before Simon. Not much was altered in the grand scheme of things; the titular vampire hunter still essentially slays Dracula with the help of three other playable characters, said final boss having been driven mad and more violent than ever by humanity’s slight against him. However, not only were the methods by which Dracula is defeated changed but players were given more insight into the sort of burden placed upon the Belmont family name.

When the story of Dracula’s Curse begins, protagonist Trevor Belmont isn’t revered as a legend or hero but rather a blight on larger society who the people only turn to as a last ditch effort against rising evil. The regular god-fearing people of Wallachia now fear the Belmonts and their power (it is also implied that some still feared the barbarian-esque Simon despite his legendary status) so the family is excommunicated. Trevor is forced to enlist three other outcasts—or simply two other fighters, depending on which version of the story you examine—in order to carry out the family business. Even when the rest of the world has shunned them and there are plenty of others just as capable of stopping the forces of evil, a Belmont still has a destiny to fulfil. 

Yet once a series has gone on for long enough, things within the established canon are bound to change—again and again. Whether through re-examination in order to line it up better with present day morals and sensibilities, or through good old fashioned retconning in favour of something more interesting, more thought out, or less convoluted. Other times, it’s simply because either the creator or viewers wanted it to happen. In 1997, this occurred with the release of Castlevania Legends on the GameBoy, a prequel to Dracula’s Curse that was meant to serve as the actual origin for the Belmonts, Dracula, and even his son Alucard. Instead of Trevor, the very first Belmont to fight Dracula is now his mother, Sonia Belmont, seventeen years old and already burdened with the glorious purpose of her bloodline.

Sonia is undoubtedly the protagonist of her own story with agency and drive. However, the game ends with a stark reminder of why the Belmonts have a place in the Castlevania universe. The last we see of Sonia in Legends is in the form of an epilogue where she holds her newborn child and states that one day when he’s grown, he will “be praised by all the people as a hero”. Despite her triumph over Dracula—a monumental feat itself—it seems that her purpose in the end (the purpose of most Belmonts other than to forever fight evil in fact) was to merely continue the bloodline so that descendants can carry out a promise made centuries before by another Belmont—someone that neither Simon, Trevor, Julius, or Richter ever knew.

The inevitability of sudden retcons within long-running media was not as kind to Legends as it was to Dracula’s Curse . Because of how the in-game events conflicted with subsequent entries (for example the implication that Trevor is actually the son of Alucard, thus further tying the Belmonts to Dracula through blood as well as duty), both Legends and Sonia were completely removed from the canon timeline. This is merely one reason why the next attempt at creating the definitive origin for the franchise, now a cult favourite among certain subsections of the fan community, was regarded with some animosity. However, twenty years after its release, Castlevania: Lament of Innocence is considered by many as an underrated entry. It is certainly the darker title where both the hero and villain stumble through their own hardships yet neither emerges completely victorious by the end.

The opening narration crawl of Lament of Innocence describes the lives of Leon Belmont and Mathias Cronqvist. They spend most of their lives as reflections of each other; one grows into more of a fighter while the second is coveted for his intellect and ambition. Both are valorous, honourable, and products of their own respective plights. Despite his service to the church, Leon is soon systematically stripped of everything save for the clothes on his back because he wouldn’t follow their orders blindly. While Mathias is forced to watch as an uncaring god (the very same god he serves) takes away a figure of pure virtue and love. This figure, Elisabeta Cronqvist who appears to be a splitting image of Dracula’s next deceased wife Lisa Tepes, was the last remaining tie Mathias still had to whatever bit of morality he still feels, which he eventually throws away when deciding to drag his only friend and everything he holds dear into hell alongside him.

The difference is how both men react to those personal horrors and how they let it govern their pasts, presents, and futures not just for themselves but for others who follow after the dust has supposedly settled. Two men, two best friends turned hateful enemies because of an interlinked tragedy. Not only that, but also because of their perspectives, morals, and the way they view a world that is unkind to them. Both were spurred by the death of loved ones, both used it as a conduit, or rather a catalyst for the radically opposing directions in which their choices take them and their families. Leon chooses to struggle onwards towards a world free from darkness and horror despite his pain. Mathias chooses to revel in that very same darkness and pain with a fire that would burn for aeons. In the end, one thing is absolute. A single thing the two men can agree upon as they flee down adverse paths: one of them will destroy the other.

Yet the timeline of Castlevania proves that this choice comes at a great cost for the Belmonts in particular. By the end of Lament of Innocence , Mathias has revealed himself to be the great manipulator pulling the strings behind the scenes. Due to the immense grief he felt over losing Elisabeta to a presumably common illness made untreatable because of the time period’s medical limitations (coupled with his own arrogance and narcissism), Mathias finally becomes Dracula. Dominion over death and even god by has been achieved by doing what Leon’s righteously moral mind cannot comprehend: transforming himself into an immortal creature driven by bloodlust. All he had to do was lie, cheat, and cruelly outsmart everyone else around him. That of course includes Leon as Mathias’ manipulation tactics were also the cause of the mercy killing of Sara Tarantoul, Leon’s fiance, to stop her from turning into a vampire herself. After watching his former friend escape before the sun can rise and disposing of Dracula’s constant right hand man Death, Leon finally feels his anger over such a betrayal boil over. He gives one final message to Mathias, now the new king of the vampires: “This whip and my kinsmen will destroy you someday. From this day on, the Belmont Clan will hunt the night.”

This is how Castlevania: Lament of Innocence ends. Unlike other entries like Symphony of the Night, Aria of Sorrow, or Harmony of Dissonance , there is no good, neutral, or bad ending that can be achieved if the player is aware of certain secrets and tricks. There is only one for Leon and Mathias. The inclusion of multiple endings in some Castlevania games versus a singular set ending in others may seem like a small coincidental narrative choice in conjunction with evolving gameplay, but it matters in the case of Lament of Innocence. From the moment Leon enters the castle to rescue his fiance, the wheel has already started turning and his fate is sealed. Mathias has already won and Sara, along with future Belmonts, are already doomed. And Leon’s ultimatum made in the heat of the moment would go on to have repercussions centuries later. “Hunting the night” gave the Belmonts purpose but it also burdened them with that exact purpose. While Dracula deals in curses, so does the Belmont family—a curse of duty that gets passed down throughout the bloodline.

Leon Belmont was of course never malicious or cruel like Mathias was. He never wanted to deliberately curse his family because he suffered and so should they. His choice was made out of anger and retribution. Still, it goes on to affect Simon, Sonia, Julius, and others in drastic yet different ways. Yet in the case of specific Belmonts like Trevor and Richter, we see how this family legacy can have varied consequences in far more detail through the introduction of animation and serialised writing into the Castlevania franchise.

—

SOMETHING BETTER THAN A PILE OF RUINS: TREVOR BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LEGACY

If there’s one thing that Castlevania makes abundantly clear with its four season runtime, it is that trauma does not inherently make people better or more virtuous. We of course see this from the games with Mathias and his personal crusade against god which leads to the complete dissolvement of his closest friendship. Or with Hector and the rage he feels towards his wife’s murderer, who also happens to be his former comrade under Dracula’s employment. Even Leon’s promise to both his friend, now his most despised enemy, and future descendants can also be an example of how gut reactions to pain, grief, and betrayal can have damaging consequences in the long run. This particular dissection of trauma when it affects a survivor negatively and in almost life-altering ways while still giving them a chance at achieving their own method of healing is most apparent with the animated representation of Trevor Belmont.

At its core, the first season of Castlevania airing in July of 2017 with four episodes in total is inspired by the events of Dracula’s Curse with the following seasons taking more from Curse of Darkness along with original story elements. It begins with the brutal execution of Lisa Tepes after she is falsely accused of being a witch. Shortly afterwards, Dracula declares war on all of humanity in an explosion of grief-riddled vengeance (a declaration that is not dissimilar to Mathias’ cursing of god after Elisabeta’s admittedly more natural death). Hundreds of civilians are slaughtered in the capital city Targoviste and hoards of night creatures descend upon more townships across Wallachia. 

This would be the perfect opportunity for a Belmont to stand up and fight back except there is one problem: the Belmonts have been eradicated from this world on false grounds of black magic and aiding the vampire lords instead of hunting them—much like how Lisa was slandered and paid the price with her own life.

The only Belmont left surviving is Trevor himself and his introduction does not paint him in the most optimistic or even heroic light. In the midst of being excommunicated by the church, he’s been wandering aimlessly for the past few years while languishing in whatever tavern he stumbles upon. In one particular bar Trevor finds himself in, he overhears the other patrons cursing the Belmonts and blaming them for Dracula’s siege upon humanity. He tries to stay out of it and not bring too much attention to himself until one glance at the family emblem stitched into his shirt breast is enough to ignite an all out skirmish.

Trevor hides his true identity not because he’s ashamed of it, but for his own safety and self preservation. In fact, the opinion he holds of his family is the total opposite from disdain for the sort of legacy they have saddled him with even in death. He reacts strongly to false accusations directed towards the Belmonts, angrily correcting the bar patrons by stating that his family fought monsters. However, he quickly realises he’s said too much and tries saving face by once again detaching himself from possibly being connected to the aforementioned Belmonts.

It’s only when Trevor is backed into a corner and is fresh out of snappy drunk retorts (thanks to a few hard hits to his nether regions) does he finally admit to his real lineage. As mentioned earlier, Trevor finds himself caught up in the first real brawl of the series not because of the pride he feels in himself but the immense pride he feels for his bloodline. All the while, he’s given up trying to hide what he is—a Belmont—and what he was born to do—fight fucking vampires.

Every time Trevor has the opportunity to bring up his bloodline whether in a fight or in conversation, it’s usually spoken with some bravado and weight even when he’s inebriated. However, when visiting the ruins of the Belmont ancestral home in season two and thus directly confronted with what little remains of his family legacy, Trevor loses all that previous bluster and becomes far more contemplative. He doesn’t reveal much of what it was like to actually live as a Belmont, only that it was “fine” and “no one was lonely in this house”. Even when staring up at the portrait of Leon Belmont, he says nothing and instead firmly  grips the very weapons which his ancestor must have also wielded.

It’s clear that Trevor feels no shame, bitterness, or lack of respect towards his family history despite the hardships that have come with it. Still, it’s difficult for him to truly accept the duty of being a Belmont and Trevor continually struggles with it over the course of two full seasons. Upon arriving at the ruined city of Gresit which is under constant threat of night creature attacks, Trevor doesn’t seem particularly concerned with the people’s plight or with helping them. He inquires about what’s been happening by speaking with a few local merchants but it’s only in order for him to gain a better picture of the situation that Gresit finds itself in. Otherwise, he’s simply passing through on his way to another tavern, fist fight, sleeping spot, or all three. Until he puts aside his own needs for self-protection in favour of saving an elder Speaker (a fictionalised group of nomads original to the Castlevania show who have made it their mission to help less fortunate communities and pass on their histories via oral tradition) from a potential hate crime committed by two supposed men of the cloth.

This moment acts as a representation of the first chip in Trevor’s carefully maintained armour. During the bar fight, he claimed over and over again that he was a Belmont in both skill and purpose. However, Trevor hasn’t done much to prove such a proclamation. Because of his ennui and poor coping mechanisms due to lingering trauma, he’s been all talk and not a lot of action—until this point. At first he tells himself to walk away, this sort of confrontation doesn’t concern him. Then he remembers where he comes from and uses the very same family heirloom to help someone physically weaker than himself.

Yet when he accompanies the elder back to where the other Speakers have found shelter from the monsters repeatedly demanding their heads as well as future night creature attacks, Trevor’s metaphorical walls are erected back up. He won’t take any part in this eradication of humanity whether as a victim or perpetrator and especially not to stop it. The people of Wallachia made their choice in the unjust murder of Dracula’s innocent wife, they made their choice when they decided to massacre what was left of his family, and the church made their choice when they decided to fight Dracula’s armies themselves without the Belmonts. Why should he lift a finger (or whip) to save the masses?

Despite this nihilistic attitude, Trevor proves to be a poor defeatist. He still desperately wants to protect the Speakers and warns them of an oncoming pogrom planned for them. A massive hate crime fueled by superstition and facilitated by the corrupt Bishop of Gresit which will supposedly save the city from night creature ambushes (this can be interpreted as a direct allegory meant to comment on how minority groups such as Jewish and Romani communities were used as scapegoats during the Mediaeval period). However, the Speakers refuse to budge and decide to face the angry and misled crowds head-on. They instead tell Trevor to leave in their place which, in a burst of frustration, spurs him to finally act like a member of his clan should. 

What follows next is one of the most defining moments of the series for Trevor, cementing his place as a Belmont. Another corrupt member of the church demands to know what he could possibly stand to gain from fighting back considering his downtrodden state and the fact that he’s entirely outnumbered. Trevor’s answer is simple: nothing. The Belmonts don’t protect everyday people for any great reward or because of any strong personal ties. They do it because it’s their duty and the right thing to do. Trevor even mirrors something which the elder Speaker told him; a family mantra that encompasses the very purpose of the Belmonts, dating back to Leon: “It’s not the dying that frightens us. It’s never having stood up and fought for you.”

Trevor’s healing journey does not end at this moment. He still has moments of hesitation where someone like Alucard has to forcibly remind him of his place as Belmont, saying he needs to choose whether he’s really the last of a long line of hunters or a drunkard. This leads to a fight sequence that nearly spans the length of an entire episode where Trevor further proves himself by taking on at least three different creatures all with varying degrees of strength, skill, and fortitude. Episode six of season two is the ideal example of not only Trevor’s determination but also his quick thinking. Moments such as him wrapping his cloak around his hand so that it doesn’t get cut while his sword slices through the throat of a minotaur or using a set of sticks to beat against an adversary when his whip is knocked away. Being a Belmont means using one’s intellect (no matter how unconventional it may seem) as well as one’s muscles. 

There is also another albeit less violent instance at the start of season three where he still feels the need to hide his surname while in an unfamiliar village. Then there is the revelation that malicious stories about the Belmonts and their supposed demise still circulate amongst rural Wallachian communities. Yet despite coming from a family of old killers (a term Trevor uses before facing off against Death in the final season) his family name remains his strength and the weight of both the Vampire Killer and Morningstar whip keep him grounded rather than burden him. The Belmont name carries such weight throughout the series that by the end, there is strong consideration from Alucard of naming a new township nestled in the shadow of Dracula’s castle after that family.

Trevor deals with his pain and trauma quietly, almost numbing it with the assistance of alcohol and dodging the harder questions regarding what his family was really like. He still finds strength in remembering what the Belmonts are here for despite the tribulations that come with the family name. Hardships that continue and evolve nearly three hundred years later.

—

THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME WHO I AM: RICHTER BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LOVE

Depending on what sort of mood you might find the author of this essay in, their favourite Castlevania game will vary. At the moment, it’s a three way tie between Symphony of the Night for its artistry, Lament of Innocence for its story and characterisation, and Aria of Sorrow for its evolved gameplay. However, one personal decision remains relatively consistent no matter the mood or time of day: Richter Belmont is the author’s favourite Belmont and the inclusion of him in the latest animated adaptation Castlevania: Nocturne has only cemented that fact.

It makes sense from both a narrative and marketing standpoint as to why we’ve suddenly gone from the events of Dracula’s Curse/Curse of Darkness depicted in the previous series all the way three hundred years later to Rondo of Blood . Narratively, Richter and his companion Maria Renard already have a direct link to Alucard through the events of Symphony , which Nocturne will most likely cover and be inspired by in its second season. Marketing wise while also appealing to the largest demographic possible (even those less familiar with the games), amongst more recurring characters like Dracula and Alucard, Richter is arguably one of the most recognisable Castlevania figures right down to his design.

Certain traits and visual motifs of other Belmonts have changed drastically over the years and with each iteration. Meanwhile, from Rondo and Symphony , to Harmony of Despair and the mobile game Grimoire of Souls , to finally Nocturne and the inclusion of Richter as a playable character in the fighting game Super Smash Bros Ultimate , specific elements of Richter never waver. This includes his blue colour scheme, his tousled brown hair, and his iconic white headband. All of which carry over in the first season of Nocturne which not only expands upon Richter’s character first established in Rondo of Blood but also further examines said character.

For example, Richter’s true introduction directly following the downer cold opening is without a doubt the farest cry from Trevor’s. While Trevor’s first scene acted as a sobering depiction of what happens when physically/mentally damaging coping mechanisms mix with unacknowledged grief, Richter’s first fight gets the audience’s blood pumping, complete with a triumphant musical score and a showcase of his skill with the Vampire Killer. Richter is cocky, but not reckless. He’s sarcastic, but not sullen like Trevor was. Because of his upbringing after the death of his mother, filled with positive affirmations, he values the wellbeing of others along with their fighting experience. Yet his confidence does not overshadow his acknowledgement of the family burden. Richter is well aware of how heavy the Belmont legacy and duty can weigh upon an individual’s shoulders along with how closely it can tie itself around a person’s life and their death—a reminder as well as memory which haunts him for nine years.

When Nocturne begins, its first major fight sequence takes place between Richter’s mother Julia Belmont (an original character for the show) and the vampire Olrox, an enemy taken from Symphony of the Night now reimagined as a seductive, complex Indigenous vampire on his own path towards vengeance against the very person who took away the one he loved most in this world—just one of many thematic parallels to the first series, this time referencing Dracula’s motives and justification for his grief. Just when it seems like Julia has the upper hand thanks to her magical prowess, Olrox transforms and ends her life in a swift yet brutal manner. All of which happens right before ten-year-old Richter’s eyes.

Julia was simply doing her duty as a vampire hunter and her life as a Belmont ended the same as most of her ancestors did: in battle while fighting for the life of another. Why then did it hurt Richter most of all? Why does it haunt him well into his early adult years? And why was it seemingly more so than how Trevor’s trauma haunted him? There are two probable answers to this, one being that Richter was only a child, directly confronted by the cause for his mother’s sudden and graphic death with no way of fighting back despite being a Belmont.

In the case of Trevor, although he was a few years older than Richter when his entire family and ancestral home were burned in front of his eyes presumably by the same people they were supposed to be defending, the circumstances which followed them afterwards are vastly different. For nine years Richter was surrounded by those who loved and cared for him whereas Trevor only had himself and the hoards of average Wallachians who hated him because of superstitious rumours and the church’s condemnation. Trevor had over a decade’s worth of experience in becoming desensitised to his pain and trauma, masking it beneath self deprecation and numbing it with alcohol. He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was a deeply sad and lonely individual until Sypha pointed it out to him.

Despite his bravado and brighter personality than his ancestor, Richter is also an incredibly sad, hurt person who suffers somewhat from tunnel vision. He obviously has empathy and wants to protect people from monsters, vampires, and the like. More so than Trevor did during his introduction before his moment of self-made rehabilitation. However, he doesn’t seem to care much about the revolution itself or what it stands for. He attends Maria’s rally meetings but he doesn’t take active part in them, opting to stay back and keep a watch out for any vampire ambushes. He admits that he doesn’t really listen to Maria’s speeches about liberty, equality, and fraternity. And in the most prominent example of his disillusionment with fighting for a larger righteous cause, when given a revolutionary’s headband, he shoves it into his pocket and mumbles about how tired he is of everything.

This could be interpreted as defeatist if Richter wasn’t already trying so hard to uphold his family duty and maintain a level head. He needs to have a sense of control and almost achieves it until Olrox so casually confronts him in the middle of a battle which Richter and his friends seemed to be winning until they’re forced to flee close behind him. When Richter runs away and emotionally breaks down the moment he’s finally alone, it isn’t because he’s weak or cowardly. On a surface level, it was due to his fear and panic over not being able to face his mother’s killer (someone who has proven to be much, much stronger and more powerful than any Belmont). Yet it was also a form of harsh admission to himself. He couldn’t maintain that aforementioned sense of control and perhaps he never will, not where he is right now at least.

It isn’t until he’s reunited with his grandfather Juste Belmont (long thought to have died, leaving Richter as the final Belmont) that this negative mindset brought on by unresolved trauma begins to shift. In many ways, Juste is another callback to what happened with Trevor. He suffered an immense tragedy in the past and has since spent his entire life drifting from tavern to tavern, avoiding his own grandson and instead leaving him in the care of people far more capable of raising him and instilling better morals within the youngest Belmont.

Other mentor-esque characters appear in Nocturne such as Tera who raised Richter alongside her biological daughter Maria. There is also Cecile, the leader of a Maroon group which Annette joins after escaping slavery. Despite their individual pains, these two women maintain the hope that humanity can be changed and the evils of the world can be defeated. Meanwhile, Juste has thoroughly lost his own hope. He reveals to Richter that “evil will always win” because of how it permeates everything and is far stronger than any Belmont, even the most magically inclined members. No matter how many Draculas, Carmillas, or Lord Ruthvens are defeated, it will always find a way to creep back to the surface whether through the upper class of France or through the very colonisation that nearly wiped out Olrox’s people or enslaved Annette’s family. 

One of the first things that Juste says to Richter directly references the sheer weight of the Belmont legacy, all of which culminates within the whip itself. This can also be a reference to the Vampire Killer carrying a living soul as Leon Belmont was only able to awaken its true power by sacrificing Sara Tarantoul. The whip has both a metaphorical and literal weight which the Belmonts must come to terms with.

Yet for Richter, family is maintained not through blood ties, which can easily die out or be abandoned because of generational trauma, but through the people we find and attach ourselves to. Under the immediate threat of losing his found family, all of Richter’s pain and anguish explodes when his magical powers violently return to him in one of the most visually impressive and cathartic moments of Nocturne season one, complete with an orchestral and operatic rendition of “Divine Bloodlines” taken straight from Rondo of Blood as he ties the same headband he nearly discarded earlier around his head. Then once the dust settles and Richter is asked by Juste how he managed to tap back into that great power, he simply responds with the most obvious answer he can come up with: there are people who love him and he loves them in return. 

This is reiterated when Richter is reunited with Annette and describes the same revelation when she asks how he was able to regain his magic. Not just a mental revelation but for Richter, it was a physical sensation as well. Just when he believed he had lost everything, something reminded him of all the things worth protecting in his life and all the pain he’s had to endure.

Richter finally donning his iconic white headband is symbolic of not only his decision to actively join the French Revolution but also his revelation that the love he feels for Maria, Annette, and Tera is his own righteous cause. That, to him, is worth defending just as much if not more than the concept of a centuries old curse turned legacy.

—

SLAVES TO OUR FAMILIES' WISHES: CONCLUSION

Richter, both his game depiction and his recent Nocturne iteration, acts as a reflection and subversion of what a Belmont is along with what that family duty means to different members. Trevor found healing from his trauma through his duty. Richter found his healing through love. Of course Trevor loved Sypha and Alucard in his own way, but throughout the entire first series, from the moment he removed his cloak at the end of season one to standing up against Death in the finale, his driving motivation was always to preserve his family’s legacy despite his own shortcomings. The Belmonts were all but gone and Trevor had been exiled, excommunicated, and turned into a societal pariah. Had he given into despair and continued with his vagabond ways, who else would wield the Morningstar, the Vampire Killer, or any of the knowledge cultivated by previous Belmont generations?

But for Richter, family legacy is more of a nebulous concept. It gets mentioned in conversations and we see its varying effects on individuals, but even when Richter is reunited with Juste, the immediate priorities of his found family takes the place of his blood family. This, according to him, makes him a Belmont. 

It is also important to consider that we are still only on the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne with season two having been renewed and in production merely a week after its initial premiere. With the reveal of Alucard as a last minute cliffhanger in the penultimate episode, it will be interesting to see how his own characterisation as well as his close tie with both the Belmonts and his own family burden will further develop especially after three hundred years within the show’s timeline. One of the biggest possibilities is that in contrast with his youthful brashness and instability that was the crux of his character in the first series, Alucard might serve as a sort of mentor figure or perhaps his own generational pain will bond him further to Richter and Maria, more so than he was in Symphony of the Night . Then there is the question of whether Richter in the midst of the apparent losses he suffered during the finale of season one will follow down the same path that his video game counterpart did.

In 2020, the author wrote another Castlevania -centric essay which detailed the visual, thematic, and aesthetical shifts of the franchise from its inception during the 1980s all the way to the 2017 adaptation through focusing on how these changes affected Alucard. By the end of that essay, it was mentioned that despite the show being renewed for at least one more season, the overall future of Castlevania remained unknown. This is still the case for now. 

Though one can make educated assumptions and theories, there’s no way of knowing what sort of direction season two of Nocturne will take with its themes and characters. This is doubly true for the games themselves. Despite the anticipated releases of the Silent HIll 2 and Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater remakes, as of now Konami has not revealed any official decisions to remake, rerelease, or produce new Castlevania titles. One can hope that due to the success of both shows along with the anticipation for Silent Hill and Metal Gear Solid remakes that something new will be in store for Castlevania in the near future.

Castlevania , both its games and animation adaptations, prove that there is a place in this world for every kind of story. In the last episode of season one airing in July 2017, Alucard states what could very well be the thesis of the entire franchise: “We are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes”. Yet even if we cannot escape the narrative we’ve been latched onto or, for dramatic purposes, cursed with, there are ways in which we can combat it and forge our own healing process.

—

MEDIA REFERENCED

Castlevania (1986)

Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest (1987)

Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse (1989)

Castlevania: Rondo of Blood (1993)

Castlevania Legends (1997)

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (1997)

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow (2003)

Castlevania: Lament of Innocence (2003)

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness (2005)

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow (2011)

Castlevania (2017—2021)

Castlevania: Nocturne (2023—)

[dead-ringer-if]

DEMO (TBA)

The Wardens, stationed within the bustling city of Seattle, were the first proof of what could come from The Scourge, a cataclysmic event that had set off a chain reaction that would forever echo throughout time: Los Angeles falling into the Pacific, New York City being partially taken over by water, the Sahara Desert sweltering in intensity which killed off native fauna in record amounts, were among the most prominent. Years of misery, of fear, transcending over a century, wherein every remaining government strived to figure out a solution.

Which they found in the form of Titan— the first meta-human, Patient Zero, whose natural abilities were enhanced by various procedures. Titan started a new wave, hope beginning to appear, as more and more meta-humans were found— mainly due to the efforts of the Rose Family— and their naturally honed abilities, seemingly derived from the Scourge itself, being able to combat the effects until there’s only fractal remnants of it left.

From there The Wardens were formed, with Titan leading them, a new period of peace fell over the world once more. Of course, that never lasts as more and more villains began to pop up out of the woodworks, threatening the sanctity of the New World. However, without fail, The Wardens were there to answer the call and defend those that couldn’t defend themself.

Titan persevered, The Wardens went on, until a fateful day a decade ago on this date— wherein Titan lost Peregrine, their sidekick and protege. It’s a day that will forever live in infamy, as it’s a day that Titan lost Peregrine, but the world lost Titan.

— Excerpt from the Seattle Times.

The world was your oyster— at least that’s what you were told. By who? You’re not quite certain of that. Everything could be possible if you just strived to reach it… They just never tell you how to deal with the harsh reality of it forever being unobtainable.

Maybe that’s why you fell into a life of crime? Well crime is a stretch, you’re more a prisoner in a heavily guarded fortress than anything else. You’re not quite sure, not being able to remember the majority of what brought you to this moment; only fragments of what used to be visits you in your sleep. Of course, working for Diego Ruiz, the local crime boss in downtown New York City, wasn’t the worst possible job, barring the imprisonment, not that you were truly part of anything nefarious to begin with, but you still saw things you’re never sure you’ll be able to unsee.

When he gets arrested, you can’t say you’re too surprised— after all he took a lot of gambles while not having the intellect to back up such moves— but you are concerned about what the future could mean for you.

Nothing you ever imagined could prepare you for what’s in store, however. Never could have imagined The Wardens would have such a vested interest in you. You’re nothing special, haven’t been for as long as you could remember.

And why the hell do they keep calling you Peregrine?

Play as an MC that doesn’t quite remember their past life. Is it possible that you’re Peregrine? The protege that had been killed in a surprise raid a decade before? Or is something more nefarious going on and you’re simply caught in the middle of it? Why are you suddenly developing powers that you’ve never had before? And why the hell do you feel like you’re in a constant state of deja vu?

Please note that this story is rated 18+ for depictions of explicit language, alcohol consumption, potential drug use, sexual themes, mentions of death, blood, torture, and grief.

Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, sexuality, hobbies, bits and pieces of what occurred in the last decade, and more! (The MC has a slightly semi-set personality.) You’ll also be able to partially design your Avian friend: name, gender, and feather colors (it’s a Peregrine Falcon). The MC is 28.

Bond with The Wardens and discover, or potentially rediscover, your found family. The people who thought they lost you.

Uncover the seedy underbelly that lurks beneath the surface of the New World. Will you be able to discover what exactly happened to you? Uncover if you’re truly Peregrine or someone, or something, else entirely.

Romance 1 of 4 romance options— from the newest initiate within the Inner Circle to a suave, if slightly broken, billionaire villain.

Cultivate your powers that are both new and old.

You’re a dead ringer for a hero the world thought it lost… Just make sure you don’t lose yourself too.

Camilo/Camila Osorio — M/F

Age: 29

Power: Chlorokinesis — the ability to create and control plants.

Alias: To the world they’re known as Verdant, partner to Frostbite, a superhero within the Inner Circle of The Wardens.

Appearance: Of Colombian descent, they have richly tanned skin with piercing dark brown eyes to offset it. Ash brown hair is naturally slightly wavy— Camilo has his to his jawline and Camila has hers to her shoulder blades— which brings out the elegant contours of their face. An alluring presence all around, partially due to their powers, they stand at around 5’5” with a lithe body type.

Personality: While not being completely unkind, they’re not the most welcoming person. They don’t detest you, but it’s clear that they’re barely able to be in the same room with you. After all, they were best friends with Peregrine (with you?) and being near you only brings back painful memories. A wall of apathy, and sometimes cutting remarks, separate you from them, but at times, when they think you’re not looking, grief flashes through their gaze— latent pain rising to the surface that they’ve tried to bury for years.

Romance Route: Ex-Best Friends to Lovers, Slightly Rivals to Lovers (in a roundabout way), Lost Love, Finding Each Other Again, and Second Chances.

Airan/Aira North — M/F

Age: 26

Power: Cryokinesis — the ability to create and control ice, while not being affected by the cold.

Alias: To the world they’re known as Frostbite, partner to Verdant, the recent addition to the Inner Circle of The Wardens, a prodigy in the making.

Appearance: Ebony ringlets, that’s strewn with arctic blue and white, fall to just beneath their jawline, complementing the dark brown tone of their skin. Sapphire blue eyes shimmer with warmth despite the coldness that always seems to follow them. With a slender physique, they’re not one to get into fist fights but that doesn’t negate the danger level they could present. They stand at around 5’8”.

Personality: With the warmest smile and a boisterous laugh, they’re the embodiment of a golden retriever. Always wanting to make other people happy and stress free, with a genuine quality that surrounds them. They may be one of your “caretakers” to help you get acclimated with the world once more, and your growing powers, but they truly wish to be your friend too. No matter what they’d always be there to lend a hand if needed, or a shoulder to cry on.

Romance Route: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Golden Retriever, Stuck Together, Gentle Compassion.

Damon/Diana Ambrose — M/F

Age: 45

Power: Widely regarded as the most powerful meta-human, partially due to their past that’s still shrouded in mystery, they have multiple abilities— flight, invulnerability, enhanced senses, and super strength (to name a few).

Alias: They’re known to the world as Titan, the old leader of The Wardens. An individual that hasn’t been seen in nine years and rarely, if ever, leaves the comfort of Warden Tower.

Appearance: Fair, perfectly unblemished, skin is complemented by the raven black color of their hair. Piercing green eyes, that look almost unreal due to their brilliance, brings out the chiseled features of their face— high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, well defined nose, and full lips. They were made for perfection, but is it truly all that it’s cracked up to be? With a toned/well muscled body, they stand at around 6’3”.

Personality: With a softly compassionate nature, paired with a presence that could silence an entire room by simply appearing, they were born to be a leader. Born to guide and help any that needed it. With a loving demeanor, wherein they have their heart on their sleeve, it’s no wonder that they took Peregrine in, at the ripe age of fifteen, in order to help train the young person that was clearly trying to find their way in the world. It’s also no wonder that they completely lost themself when losing Peregrine, something that they believe could have been completely avoided, and they’ve forever blamed themself for it. The last decade has brought with it a slew of darkness for them, their smiles not coming as easily, their anger at themself growing, and their hope slowly fading. Maybe with your reappearance things will be okay?

Romance Route: Old Mentor, Age Gap, Second Chances, Reunion, Forbidden Love (on their part), and Slow Burn.

Morgan/Morgana Rose — M/F

Age: 38

Power: Shapeshifting.

Alias: They’re infamously known as Silhouette. The leader of a criminal enterprise known simply as Syndicate.

Appearance: With sharp gray eyes, that seemingly stare right into your soul, and honey beige skin that’s complemented by their wavy auburn hair. They have an aura of danger consistently surrounding them, giving many the impression that they shouldn’t be trifled with. With a lean body type, they stand at around 6’0”.

Personality: Being called a variety of names within the tabloids: “The Lost Rose” or “Wilting Red”, to name a few— due to their abrupt departure from their rather famous family. They’re infamously known as Silhouette; a master manipulator, cutthroat in their dealings, and refusal to backdown over something they want. Of course, that’s simply gossip from individuals that have never truly met them— much like the tabloids that speculate on the life of the lost Rose Heir. Despite what you may think of them, they’re your best bet at discovering what happened to you in the last decade.

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers (in a sense), Slow Burn (slightly), Age Gap, Villain/Hero, Misunderstood.

[spade-riddles]

I think Taylor hinted that she is going to ghost the Nov 10th Chiefs game against the Denver Broncos... and that not only will this lead to the public breakup, but it also has everything to do with the Karma MV and the 58% illumination 🌋 anon...

Let's review the evidence:

As I have said in a previous post, I have suspected that Nov 10th has to do with the breakup for several months now, but I just made several new groundbreaking discoveries that have me 99.9% sure...

For starters: Denver Broncos has a very specific logo of a charging horse. Naturally, my brain immediately went to The Bolter because what do horses do? They bolt. I then found out that this particular horse is named after Thunder, as in Thunder bolt, and it is described as being on fire quite literally about to bolt. This led me down a much more convincing rabbit hole...

🌋 anon said: "the moon will be a waxing gibbous. just barely surpassing the first quarter. 58% illumination. can you pinpoint my tack on the calendar?"

Can we? Possibly! It is quite suspicious that Nov 10th is a Waxing Gibbous just slightly passed the start of the first quarter, and as soon as the clock strikes Midnight on Nov 10th, the moon's illumination will be exactly 58% !!!

And finally... the Karma MV might have hinted at this date over an entire year ago.

One of the most memorable scenes in the MV is when Taylor Swift and Ice Spice are shown pulling the Moon and Saturn close together.

Guess what date marks the conjuction of the Moon and Saturn? Nov 10th !! When Saturn will be extremely close to the Moon. Just as depicted in Karma.

For these reasons and more I feel I may really be onto something....

I think it is important to highlight that Taylor has attended every Chiefs game that she possibly could, and so ghosting 1 with having no conflicting obligations will be cause for peak chaos, and it would be on the 7th anniversary of Reputation release.

My theory is that her not showing may even result in the first time that Chiefs lose their undefeated 8-0 streak for the added performance art which is based off of both articles and TN constantly pushing the "joke" that Taylor being at the games helps the Chiefs play better...

This even goes deeper into the potential breakup date being the morning after on Nov 11th because alongside The Bolter, she played The Great War.

Historically, The Great War ended on the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, which would be Nov 11th at 11am. The following day after the Nov 10th potential ghosting . . .

I don't know about you... but for me this all seems way too on point to be a coincidence. I really think we should keep an eye on both of these dates!

(Photos of all evidence below)