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heaven-s-black-box · 5 months

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Home- Zhongli x wife!Reader

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Recovery date: January 17th, 2024

Description: May I request smut with Zhongli and his wife having reunion sex after not seeing each other for a long time?

Includes- plot, half dragon form Zhongli, slight angst(?), oral (f receiving)

Notes: This entry was recovered in collaboration with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contribution. Thank you to my friend who beta read this.

Word count: 2 763

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Zhongli’s retirement was supposed to mean more time for his wife.

Married for centuries, and yet he felt they only saw each other as frequently as a mortal couple did in their entire lifetime. He’d promised her his undivided love and protection, and back in the Guili plains that had been possible– when it hadn’t just been him watching over the mortals– but here in Liyue it was… difficult. He was loath to admit it, but he was not holding up his end of the contract.

Even after the amendment they’d made following the archon war, that Liyue would come before her, it seemed to take up all his time. Yet she never complained, treating the bustling harbor like it was their child.

His retirement was as if their child had grown, leaving the house to find its place in the world. So how had spending time together gotten harder?

“I’m home, my dearest,” he called into the quiet house, taking care to keep his voice down.

One week, three days, eight hours, forty-two minutes and three seconds.

He’d been gone for a full week, nearly week and a half, and not even on official business, but rather as a favor to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s director because she was too busy to go to Inazuma.Y/n hadn’t been able to join him due to a mild illness at the time of his departure that would have made the boat ride miserable, and so had begun their longest separation since the cataclysm.

A warm scent reached his nose, and he looked up from taking his shoes off to find his wife standing before the entrance in an apron. There was a bandage tied around one of her fingers, and rice flour dusted across the apron.

“I made bamboo shoot soup.”

Her smile was contagious, and he quickly found himself donning a similar expression as she took his hand and led him to the table. A bottle of dandelion wine was set in the center next to a vase of glaze lilies and qingxins. The smell he’d noticed earlier was clearly coming from the pot on the stove that Y/n quickly returned to, serving up two bowls and setting them on the table.

“This is… an interesting array of decor,” Zhongli hummed once they finally sat down.

“Venti came by,” Y/n laughed, “just after you left, actually, he helped me around the house so that I could rest.” Zhongli nodded, begrudgingly thinking up a way to thank the drunken archon. “The flowers were a gift from Ganyu, I think she meant for me to put them in separate vases but…” She shrugged.

Zhongli finished his bite of bamboo, and looked up to find his wife awkwardly pushing her food around her bowl. She raised a piece of meat to her lips, but before she could take a bite, Zhongli urged her to finish her sentence.

“But?”

Y/n rarely clammed up like this, tensing up over something so suddenly. She ignored him for a moment, chewing slowly to buy herself more time. Zhongli set his chopsticks down and laced his hands in front of himself, indicating he had no intent of returning to dinner until she answered him.

“But, they kept me company.”

Y/n rolled her shoulders out and reached for her glass of wine. She frowned upon taking a sip, deciding that maybe dandelion wine and bamboo shoot soup weren’t the best pair, but continued on in order to avoid looking at her husband. There was no doubt in her mind that he was carefully considering her words, and she was not looking forward to-

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “No, no, don’t apologize.”

“Why?” Zhongli reached across the table and took her hands in his, running his thumb over her wedding ring. “It’s the very least I should do. I promised you my undivided love and protection, and I failed. I amended my promise, the vow I made to you centuries ago, and I have still– somehow– made you feel so alone that you would find comfort in the memories of our friends.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

A long moment of silence cut through the house as Y/n lowered her gaze to their hands– hers cradled gently in his. Slowly, she removed Zhongli’s wedding ring, then his gloves, and replaced the ring before bringing his hands to her lips. She placed a kiss on either knuckle and then sighed, resting her forehead against them.

“Your retirement was supposed to be for us,” she whispered, “and I understand that this consultancy with Wangsheng funeral parlor is your way of living a mortal life, but even mortals make better time for their loved ones than you. We have forever, but forever will find its end before you know it.”

Zhongli couldn’t see her face, it was buried in his hands, but he could feel her heavy breathing as she stifled growing sobs.

“Look at me,” he whispered, removing his hands from her grasp to cup her face. Y/n’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears that stabbed at his heart. “I will speak with director Hu Tao and take some time off, and I’ll work on finding a balance. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Y/n turned her face in his hands and kissed his palms.

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I should have done in the first place.”

Hesitantly, Y/n pulled Zhongli’s hands from her face and clasped them in front of her chest– pressing them over her heart.

“Dinner’s gone cold.”

“It has.”

“Why don’t we move on to the rest of the evening's plans?”

Zhongli chuckles, “You had more planned?”

“But of course, you must have been so lonely without me, I need to make up for that.”

Y/n stood up, pulling her husband with her. Before she could pull him any further though, he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him with furrowed brows and a small pout.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Her pout dissipated into a small smile as she ran her hands up his chest and played with the collar of his jacket.

“I would tell you if I wasn’t. That was a term in our contract,” she whispered, barely a breath away from his lips before she pulled him in for a kiss.

It was gentle as Y/n ran her hands up around Zhongli’s neck, tugging on his ponytail and earning a short laugh before their lips connected again. Zhongli meanwhile slid his hands just barely under the slit in her qipao, earning a shudder as his claws gently raked over the thin under dress. He moved his hands lower, squeezing at the backs of her thighs.

“Up.”

Y/n jumped up, her skirt bunching up under Zhongli’s hands, wrapping her legs around his waist and giggling– face buried in his neck– as he finally carried her to their bedroom. She loosened his tie, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and littering his neck with butterfly kisses. The door to their room opened, and she took the moment of brief distraction to bite down on the nape of his neck. Zhongli’s grip on her thighs tightened, and he let out a low groan while Y/n snickered softly.

“My bad.”

Zhongli nudged her head up and buried his face in her neck before biting her nape in return, earning a squeal and the squeeze of her thighs. In squeezing her thighs together around his waist, Y/n accidentally pulled herself closer and ground against Zhongli.

Zhongli groaned at the friction and whispered, “My bad,” in return, before dropping her onto the bed.

Without prompting, Y/n unfastened the buttons of her qipao while Zhongli shrugged off his jacket and vest, and finished unbuttoning his shirt. He looked up just in time to find his wife kneeling in front of him. She wrapped her arms back around his neck, burring one hand in his hair, and pulled him in for another kiss.

This one was hungrier. It wasn’t meant to reassure either of them, but rather make up for lost time. Both the time lost during his trip, and the time lost as the mortal life had consumed him.

Zhongli gently pushed Y/n back by the hips, forcing her to awkwardly shuffle around to untuck her dress from beneath her. As soon as it was released from beneath her legs, Zhongli grabbed the hem and pulled it off– leaving her in only her underwear. He gently ran his fingers along the deep mark he’d left on her nape earlier, a fond smile forming on his lips.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n grabbed the open sides of Zhongli’s shirt to pull him down with her when she fell backwards. The sudden shift in perspective startled him, and he was barely able to brace himself on his forearms to avoid crushing his wife.

“Hi, handsome.”

“Hello, my dearest.”

This time Zhongli was the first to lean in, placing a quick peck on her nose and then capturing her lips. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and slid her hand up to cup his face, while he moved one hand up to cup hers.

It honestly felt like they could stay like that forever, just holding one another, but Zhongli suddenly pulled away and trailed kisses down Y/n chest. He left gentle nips at random intervals, earning content sighs from his wife. She gently scratched at his scalp, tugging on occasion to make him groan.

There was something humorous in the way they’d both assumed they would jump each other's bones as soon as Zhongli had stepped in the door, and yet as time went on neither of them was sure they’d even get around to having sex tonight.

When Zhongli finally reached the hem of Y/n’s underwear and took a deep inhale, making her whine in embarrassment. Even after being married for centuries some of his more draconic habits, like his obsession with her scent, were embarrassing.

“My favorite scent,” he said, voice a low rumble as he teased her.

“Zhongli,” Y/n whined.

He slowly pulled her underwear down, letting his claws scrap against her skin. She kicked them off and then put her legs up on his shoulders before tapping the top of his head.

“Where’s my lovely husband?” She cooed, shuddering when he laughed– his breath hitting her clit.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He ducked down, kissing at her inner thighs as his horns and tail slowly took form. Y/n whined as he avoided giving her any stimulation, gripping at his horns and tugging only to earn herself a gentle smack from his tail.

“Ah!”

“Be patient,” Zhongli sighed.

“I have been plenty patient, love.”

His forked tongue flicked out against her clit, making her yelp and squeeze her thighs against his head. Her grip on his horns tightened and she used them to try and pull him closer to her cunt. This time he ran his tongue up to her clit and then back down and into her. Y/n moaned, rocking her hips into his face. Zhongli laughed, digging his claws into her hips, uncaring if he broke skin.

“More,” Y/n moaned, wiggling her hips uselessly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

“But-ah!”

Zhongli sucked gently at her clit, then gently raked his claws against her thigh to rub quick circles against her clit. The sudden change in stimulation caught her off guard and her thighs began to crush his head as she clawed helplessly.

The knot in her stomach tightened quickly, making her hips jerk erratically against his face and hand. Her breathing was heavy as choked sounds escaped her lips.

“Cumming, cumming,” she began to mumble, legs twitching. “Fuck!” She yelped as it finally snapped.

Zhongli lapped up her release– his tail flicking about happily behind him– gripping her tightly as she squirmed against him from over stimulation.

“I thought you’d been patient?”

“I was,” Y/n panted, sitting up and starting to undo Zhongli’s pants, “until this morning.”

“I was looking forward to letting you fall apart on my fingers,” he pouted playfully.

“And I, want to be fucked.”

Laughing, Zhongli got off the bed to kick his pants off while Y/n moved further up onto the bed. Zhongli rejoined, settling between her legs and pulling her towards him. His tail looped around her waist, tightening slightly so she couldn’t escape.

“No, no,” Y/n laughed, finally catching her breath. She placed a hand on his chest and the other urging his tail to loosen its hold, guiding him to lay back. “My turn.”

She settled herself above him, resting her weight forward on his chest, and slowly sunk down onto his second dick. His primary dick brushed against her clit as she lowered herself, earning a quiet gasp and making her clench around him. It stung slightly, but she took her time until he was buried inside her completely. With a shaky breath she gave a slow roll of her hips, earning a groan from her husband.

Zhongli placed his hands on her hips, rubbing gentle arcs against her skin with his thumbs, then he ran his hands up and down her sides in a soothing motion as she adjusted to his size. His primary dick rested against his abdomen, and Y/n wrapped her hand around it making him hiss. She ran her hand along it teasingly a few times, laughing at the glare he leveled her with and the way his tail tightened around her waist, before moving her hand back to his chest for support.

Y/n rolled her hips again, taking a deep breath as her clit once again brushed his primary dick, before slowly lifting herself up and sinking back down with a moan. She leaned down to kiss her husband, making him groan as his primary dick was pressed between them. Slowly, she found a rhythm to bounce on, moaning as her clit rubbed against his primary dick that was pressed between them. Zhongli’s claws dug into her hips as he moaned, matching her movements with his thrusts.

The pleasure quickly began to tire Y/n out, leaving her panting and slowing down as her legs began to shake from the building tension in her gut.

“Come now, is that all you’ve got?” Zhongli teased as she began slowing down, breath heavy from exertion.

“If you weren’t so insistent on topping, maybe I’d-ah! Have better stamina.”

Tightening his grip on her hips and his tail back around her waist, he flipped her around and slammed back into her. She yelped at the sudden movement, and he moaned as his primary dick rubbed against Y/n’s abdomen with every thrust. In this position, his dick didn’t rub against her clit as regularly leaving her on edge.

“You make an excellent point, however…” he gave another hard thrust, his sharp teeth being revealed as he grinned down at her, “actually I don’t have a point to make.”

Y/n’s hands twisted the sheets as she bounced almost violently with every thrust, crying out in pleasure.

“So-mean.” She whined, and shakily slid one of her hands between them to rub at her clit. “Cumming.”

“Go ahead,” he whispered, leaning down beside her ear. “My dearest wife.”

At the term of endearment, Y/n’s breath hitched.

“Morax, Morax, Morax,” she gasped out as her legs tightened around his waist and her hips jerked against him.

He replaced her hand with his, rubbing her clit to help her ride out her orgasm as she twitched and panted. Meanwhile he pulled out, wrapping his other hand around both his cocks and jacking them off. White painted Y/n abdomen as he finally stopped rubbing her clit.

They stayed there for a moment, panting. Y/n twitched slightly everytime Zhongli accidentally brushed up against her.

“That was… long overdue,” She sighed, groaning as she carefully unhooked her legs from Zhongli’s waist.

Zhongli, in turn, laughed, and grabbed a towel from their bedside drawer to clean her off.

“No, what’s long overdue is the bath we’re about to take.”

“Ah, that is true,” Y/n laughed, taking Zhongli’s right hand and raising it to her lips so that she could kiss his wedding ring.

As she looked up at him through her lashes, placing gentle kisses along his knuckles and ring, Zhongli had a feeling he knew how his vacation was going to go.

#locked entries #genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #x reader #female reader #zhongli smut #genshin impact smut #smutshot #smut

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swanmakes · 8 months

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･ﾟ✧ ・． OLIVIA COOKE GIF PACK

COMMISSION — click the source link (or visit my directory) to be directed to a page where you’ll find #242 gifs of olivia cooke in the good mother all gifs were made by me from scratch. you may use them in sidebars, as reaction gifs, or edit them into gif icons. do not repost into gif hunts or gifsets. please make sure to credit me with an @ if resharing them as gif-icons/crackship gifs.

please like or reblog this post if you find it useful!

warnings: funeral, pregnancy, eating, crime scene.

#olivia cooke gif pack #olivia cooke gif hunt #gifsociety #rph #userdevon #usermina

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bronzefuryfic · 8 months

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Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter Eleven: The Funeral / Previous Chapter / Directory

The Targaryens arrive in Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon. Aegon proposes a plan to save his relationship. Rhae at last sees her father.

"You reckon this is what it's like on Dragonstone?"

Aemond shrugged, his eyes transfixed on the sky. He and Rhae stood at the edge of the deck, listening to the dockhands clamor to prepare a ramp for the ship's passengers to exit on. Waiting for them below was Aegon and Helaena, their hair whipped and wild from their flight.

Driftmark's harbor was at the base of the island, the castle looming large on the rocky hills above. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre were roosting about halfway up, their long scaly necks pointed upwards, watching wearily as more dragons circled overhead.

Rhae recognized the sleek yellow frame of Syrax , soaring lazily amongst the clouds, as she was prone to. She kept a lofty distance, her cries faint and sorrowful, almost lost to the winds. Nearby was Seasmoke , sinking lower and lower towards the ocean in a spiraling silent stupor. They seemed to keep their distance from the sky's only other inhabitant—a crimson beast that streaked the ether in agitated fury.

"Meleys," Aemond whispered.

The Dragonkeepers had told Rhae once that the bond between riders and their mounts was unbreakable, so much so that they could feel each other's emotions. She hadn't believed them then, but now...

The Red Queen roared, her call a bitter agony.

Rhae thought of Ser Harwin, and of Laena Velaryon, and wondered whether the dragons were mourning too.

"I don't see Caraxes," she shivered, watching the clouds, fearfully wondering when he might slither into view. Viserys had once told her how Daemon's dragon came to be known as the Blood Wyrm, for his scarlet scales and deformities.

"More of a winged viper than a dragon," The King had chuckled. "Though, pray, don't tell Daemon I've said so, tis' his pride and joy, Caraxes..."

"No Vhagar either," Aemond grumbled—the boy also seemed to scan the horizon in anticipation. "You don't think they've left her in Essos, do you?"

"I doubt any could coax the Queen of All Dragons overseas if she did not wish it," Rhae reasoned. Aemond's brow furrowed, but before they could discuss any further, Ser Criston's voice cut through the commotion.

"Rhae! Aemond!"

The ramp secured, the passengers filed down to the dock. The King went first, aided by his attendants so that he would not topple into the sea.

"See him to his quarters," the Queen called after them. "His Grace should rest before the funeral."

One by one, the rest followed. Rhae scanned the skies once more, wondering where Daemon might be, before hurrying down the ramp after Aemond.

"Gods Rhae," Aegon said, as he and Helaena joined them. He surveyed her closely, his brow knitting together in concern. "You look like shit."

"Aegon!" Aemond glowered.

"What?" Aegon argued. "She does!"

"You do," Helaena whispered, taking Rhae by her right arm as her brothers bickered.

"That obvious, huh?" Rhae offered a half smile despite herself. Her hand curled around Helaena's forearm, soothing her nerves as she gently rubbed the sleeve's fabric beneath her fingers. She allowed her friend to pull her along, following the crowd up the stony steps to High Tide.

As they drew nearer, Rhae's breath caught. The pale stone that made its walls reminded Rhae of those belonging to her liege lady's, Jeyne Arryn of the Eerie. The memories were old, but by Rhae's estimation, the newly constructed High Tide was even bigger, and better yet, much easier to climb. She'd heard how the Sea Snake erected his own castle, abandoning the small, salt-stained Castle Driftmark in its favor. Ser Gerold had scoffed at the news, aghast that any might abandon their ancestral seat. But as Rhae passed the threshold, she couldn't help but think the Lord of the Tides had made the right decision, marvelling at the spoils of his famed nine voyages.

She, Aegon, Aemond and Helaena huddled together as the Queen paced past them to meet with their host, the King already being escorted towards the apartments. Rhae scoured the room for faces that ought to be familiar.

Can you find yourself in family you've never met? Rhae wondered. She didn't need half as much to recognize Lord Corlys Velaryon—still proud in his grief, stern and immovable as a mast, his sea-salted white dreads striking against his dark skin and sable, lavish mourning attire. Nor his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her features visibly taut with sorrow, even from a distance, even beneath her veil of black.

But where is my father? What has become of my sisters?

As more guests and attendants piled through the doors, their footfall echoing the vaulted ceilings, Alicent's voice became lost in the cacophony.

"Gods, she's relentless," Aegon grumbled, as his mother gestured back towards them. He looked to Rhae's worried face, before straightening his back and taking a high tone. "Sincerest apologies for the death of your daughter. May the Sevens bless her and blah blah blah... Would you like to hear about my son?"

"Aegon..." Aemond began exhaustedly.

But it was as successful as ever, Aegon already blathering on. "No, not the short one there. Behind him. Yes, yes... the handsome one... he's got a cock and all!"

Aemond rolled his eyes, nodding towards an ornate spyglass on display nearby. When he spoke, he mimicked Aegon's sickly sweet impersonation of their mother.

"If you use the telescope, you might even see it."

Rhae snapped from her daze, clapping a hand over her mouth, barely able to suppress a snicker. It didn't matter—Helaena guffawed beside her, drawing scowls from those nearby. Color rose in Aegon's cheeks, but he made no retort. His face flickered between anger and amusement, but beneath it all, Rhae could've sworn he looked proud.

The children sobered instantly as the Queen returned to them, save Helaena, who was still giggling to herself. Alicent surveyed them wearily, turning to Rhae. "Is something funny?"

Do tell me if the children are a bother... I trust you'll be honest with me, she'd once said.

"No, Your Grace."

Alicent nodded, apt to believe her.

"Upstairs." She commanded. "You're to stay in your chambers until you are called for the funeral." She gave Aegon a hard look, adding with a hiss. " And you're to stay on your best behavior!"

"Yes, Your Grace." They all chorused.

Rhae spent the rest of the morning fussing over her appearance, straightening non-existent creases in her dress, fiddling with her hair, polishing her jewelry. She hated every second, but every time she tore herself from the mirror, she'd lap the room and come right back.

She longed for her bow, so that she might calm her nerves with thoughtless, long-practiced motions. As she paced the length of the room once more, she wished next for a dagger of her own, to flip and toss as she had with Aemond on the boat.

Perhaps if I were to ask Ser Criston... She thought, turning on her heel and stalking back towards the mirror.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAARTCH!

The cry cut through Rhae's heart, her hand instinctively flying to her chest. She glimpsed her own horrified expression in the mirror before rushing towards the window. Her eyes and ears strained—she thought she could sense the beating of wings above, but it was hard to separate from the beating of the waves below. The sky revealed nothing.

Caraxes. It has to be.

Another shrill screech confirmed her theory, sending goose-pimples across all but her left arm.

He's here.

A knock sounded at the door, and a yelp loosed her lips.

"It's just me."

"Come in." Rhae managed weakly, pulling herself away from the window as Aegon entered the room.

"Gods Rhae," He muttered, reaching for her, placing his hand on the small of her back before the door even shut. "You really do look terrible."

"Thanks."

"Stunning," He corrected, placing a second hand on the nape of her neck. We shouldn't do this here, Rhae thought, but the worry dissipated as his thumb brushed along the corner of her jaw. "But also terrible."

Rhae hadn't realized she'd been clenching her teeth. Her mouth slackened, her bottom lip quivering. Her arms wrapped around his mid-section as Aegon pulled her head towards his chest, and for a moment, she felt safe.

"I wanted to talk to you about... us," Aegon said after a while, shifting his hands to her waist. "If you're up for it."

"What is there to discuss?" She lamented. "Nothing has changed."

"It could. We could make it change."

Rhae sighed, pulling her head back to look at him properly. He appeared nervous, as he had last they spoke, ever afraid of her rejection. His fingers gripped her tighter, his hope in his hands, desperate to keep it from slipping away.

"How?"

"If the court... discovered our secret," Aegon began, Rhae's eyes already widening in fear. He pressed onwards desperately. "It would cause a scandal. Mother would have to make new arrangements to counter. We'd be wed instead!" Rhae shook her head. "Please. Please don't do that. She'd have to, Rhae. For our reputations—"

" Your reputation!" Rhae interjected. Her hold on him loosened, but she did not let go. "You're the son of the King, and I'm merely a daughter of the Vale. It's just as likely I'm removed from my station and sent to the Silent Sisters!"

"Mother wouldn't let that happen! She couldn't. You're too important."

"For the dragon I don't have?"

"For the dragon you will have!" Aegon flared, his voice rising. "I thought you also wanted this! I thought... I thought —"

"I do," Rhae hushed. "I do."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAARTCH!

They stood in despondent silence, Caraxes' call echoing over the sea.

".. . I'm scared, Aegon."

"We can't stop what's coming," He said quietly. "I've feared the throne for as long as mother has sworn it to me. But I..." He gulped. "I love you. I need you. And I think if you were to be there by my side..."

He didn't finish. He didn't have to.

Things might be a little less frightening.

Time seemed to hold still. It seemed to Rhae that the only sign it passed at all was the heavy thump of her heart in her chest. Her whole head seemed to hum, savoring his words, their clarity...

Helaena was right.

"When?" she breathed, her cheeks burning. It was so foolish, so crass . Gods, what would Ser Gerold say? What will Alicent? And yet... there was a surge of exhilaration. Had they not risked this very outcome every time they snuck from the prying eyes of the Red Keep? Had they not danced around the possibility for weeks? Months?

He blinked in surprise, taking a moment to process her agreement. But as the realization hit him, his grip tightened, pulling at her hips.

"I'd have you now," Aegon muttered fervently. His head snaked to the side, pressing a kiss to the corner of her jaw, just below the ear. "Why wait?"

Rhae put her right hand firmly to his chest, pushing away his advances. Not all her senses had left her. Aegon's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

Rhae let out an involuntary jolt of laughter.

"We're at a funeral!"

"All the better," he insisted. "Less opportunity for them to do anything to stop us."

"You're mad. This is mad."

"So be it."

He leaned in again, slower this time, testing her resolve.

"Aegon," Rhae's hand stayed firmly on his chest. "I want this, I do."

"But?"

"It can't be now. Not here. Not..." She grimaced. "Not with everything else that's going on."

Aegon jerked his head in a stiff nod, the creases of worry returning to his brow.

"Okay," he muttered, dropping his hands to his side. "You're right." He was already moving for the door. "We'll talk about it later. I'll see downstairs for the..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, or if he had, it was spoken so softly that Rhae could not hear it.

He doesn't believe me.

"Aegon?"

Her feet carried her a few hurried steps forward, but her mouth struggling to match their willfulness. Aegon's hand hovered over the door's handle. His head just barely turned in her direction, his distrustful eyes obscured by a sheet of silver hair. Somehow Rhae knew—if she couldn't convince him now, she'd never have the chance again.

"What?"

It was now or never. Rhae swallowed her fear.

"I love you too."

His gaze softened.

"We'll talk later," he said again, gentler this time.

And before doubt could reclaim him, he was gone.

Everything felt heavy. Rhae's feet were leaden, shuffling across the ground beneath her dress as though her shoes were full of rocks. A mounting pressure built in her head, and her heart seemed to sink through her chest and puddle into her stomach. She feared she might retch again—Aemond did too, by the nervous looks he kept casting in her direction.

Her friends formed a sort of guard around her—Helaena leading from the front, with Aegon and Aemond on her left and right side, respectively. Rhae remembered a time when she was afraid to be so surrounded , but she was grateful now... Even if they made it difficult to search the crowd herself. Mourners lined the rocky terrain nearby, not important enough to join the inner-most circle of family and royals at the bottom. Rhae wondered how many had known Laena personally, and felt guilty as she passed.

They came to a stop beside Laenor Velaryon, though he did not seem to notice. He wept silently, unable to tear his eyes from the stone coffin before them, transfixed on his sister's silent, carved face. Beside him stood Princess Rhaenyra, her arms wrapped around Jace and Luke. Only Jace glanced their way.

They were joined shortly by a man in Hightower garb, who kissed Alicent's cheek before moving to stand just behind the King. Rhae peered—the lapel pin signifying the position of Hand gleamed at her from his chest. Ser Otto, she realized. She inclined her head towards Aemond for an explaination, but he merely shrugged.

"Father called for him when we arrived," Helaena whispered. Aemond and Rhae exchanged a look of surprise.

"How'd you know that?"

"Grandfather came to visit me next," Helaena smiled, reaching into the sleeve of her dress and pulling out a dead silverfish. "He found it on the boat from Oldtown!" She nudged Aegon, adding his head to the fold. "He says Daeron is well."

They'd caused too much commotion, however quiet. Alicent was staring at them pointedly, shushing them with her eyes. The children pulled back from their huddle.

A moment later, they were joined by Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys . Squeezed between them were two young girls. The taller of the two had an arm wrapped protectively around the shorter—or, perhaps, she was leaning on her for support.

My sisters, Rhae realized.

"Where is father?" She could hear the shorter ask, scanning the mourners anxiously. "They'll be starting soon!"

"He'll be here, Rhaena," said the taller— Baela. She seemed sure of her answer, though Rhaena did not look convinced.

Rhaena continued to scan the crowd, her gaze coming to rest on Rhae. Her eyes narrowed, and she rose on her toes to whisper something to Baela.

Rhae's cheeks burned.

So they do know about me.

But she didn't have long with her discomfort before it deepened into distress. Daemon's presence preceded him—dozens of heads were already turning before he reached the bottom step. For all the reactions he garnered, Daemon did not indulge any bids for his attention. Not the King's outstretched hand, nor Ser Otto's smug adjustment of his lapel pin as the Rogue Prince passed. He did not so much as glance in the direction of his daughters. It wasn't until he came to a stop beside the coffin, standing by no one, that he surveyed the sea of stunned faces with a slight smirk, revelling in the unease.

"Shall we begin?"

He turned to the Velaryon man closest to him—Vaemond, Lady Laena's uncle—who in turn nodded to the guards nearby. They unfurled a length of rope, weaving it through iron rungs attached to the coffin, creating a sort of pulley.

When Vaemond Velaryon spoke, he adopted the Valyrian tongue. Rhae strained her ears against the pounding blood rush to her head—struggling to hear or to understand.

"Tubī Velario Lentro Ābrāzme Laene iēdrarta mōrqittot, māzīlarē tubirri Elēdrion ziry umīsilza luo dāriot, hannagon Embrurliot gierūlti."

Today we... we commit Lady Laena to the water.

The ropes snapped as the guards pulled, dragging the coffin a few inches backward along a long stretch of smoothed rock—a conduit with which they would deliver the body to the sea. Rhae supposed her translation must've been close, though she was certain she missed some. Another pull, and another few inches... Rhae gave an involuntary shudder.

She found herself looking to Jacaerys, and was surprised to catch his eye. Rhae offered what she hoped came across as a nod of solidarity, to seeming success. Jace nodded back, before casting a sideways glance towards Vaemond, as if to ask, are you getting any of this? Rhae smiled slightly, promising herself she'd find him later, and returned her attention to Vaemond.

"Solion tolijor zijosy pradarose, Ābrāzma Laena rāeniot hen eglio ilvot lanto taloti hembis. Pōja muña hen zȳho solio āmāzīlus daor, yn ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi humbilza."

Rhae understood very little now. She recognized "taloti", daughters, and "ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi", bound horribly? No... that can't be right... bound forever in blood...

Rhae looked to her sisters. All strength seemed to have left Baela, who was crying into her grandmother's chest. Rhaena's back was straight, her chin high, but she did nothing to clear the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Rhae couldn't remember the funeral of her own mother, having been a babe at the time. Would I have been as brave? She wondered . She longed to join them. She may not have known Laena, nor did she have memories of her own mother to mourn, and yet... watching Rhaena and Baela, Rhae felt a little less lonely.

They don't need me, Rhae reminded herself, her eyes drifting down to see their hands still clenched together. They have each other.

"Velario ānogro rȳ lopor ojāris. Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris."

Vaemond's voice seemed to harden now. He was still speaking of blood, Velaryon blood, thick and true.

Unwittingly, Rhae found her gaze shift back to Jace. From the way Rhaenyra pulled her sons closer, her face poorly guarded, Rhae suspected she was not the only one. Laenor seemed to choke back a sob and Jacaerys' head drooped, hiding his pale face beneath his brown hair. Only Lucerys remained unperturbed. Rhae thought it unlikely he understood much of the speech at all, never mind the implications about his birth.

And there it was. The ever-unwelcome taste of conflict which made Rhae want to gag— Vaemond will not stand for Luke to ascend the Driftwood Throne. How many of the Velaryons feel the same? The boy bears their name, yet none of their blood.

Luke had a greater worry—the boy reached for his supposed father's trembling hand... an attempt at comfort.

But Vaemond did not relent, glaring at the child.

"Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis."

And ours must never thin.

A gale of laughter erupted from the speaker's side. Every head turned towards Daemon, who seemed unable to contain himself. Rhae gaped, bewildered. He didn't so much as have the grace to look embarrassed, snickering still as everyone stared.

Laughter? As the truth of it hit her, all other thoughts were erased from Rhae's mind. Her fists clenched, fury tearing at her stomach, her vision turned red. She was faintly aware of Aegon's hand seizing the back of her dress, and Aemond treading on her toe. Every reckless thought rattling through her head must've shown on her face, but she didn't care. She could not placate the tremor of injustice that iced her veins.

Rhae urged her feet forward, wishing nothing more than to strike her father, to knock him into the sea, to split his skull on stone... Let them mount my head and call me traitor, she thought savagely. It would be worth it.

But she remained where she stood, staring at him, burning him in her mind, hating him.

Won't he at least look at me?

It was as though he heard her. A flicker of the eye, so quick and so subtle, Rhae might've blinked and missed it. But she hadn't, and she was certain—Daemon met her gaze. He smirked.

A chill ran the length of her spine.

Dammit.

Rhae was not as brave as she had hoped—angry, hot tears leaked down her face. But what was there to do? She wiped them hurriedly, ashamed.

I could never hurt him as he hurts me.

Rhae tore her gaze from Daemon, fixating instead on the coffin of his second wife. Another woman dead. More daughters devastated. The father and the husband still unaffected. Where is justice? Ser Gerold was made the fool for asking the same, once. But he'd done it all the same.

I'm sorry, Mother.

"Talus mandus ñuhus," Vaemond continued, unfaltering. "Inkoso kostōbāpis aōhis jelmīs sagon gīso lykāpas aōhas embis se prūmȳsa lēdāpas aōhas manengīs."

Spirit. Heart. Rhae understood little else. The soldiers tugged at the ropes with each word, dragging the coffin closer and closer to the brink.

"Hen embār masti. Va embrot āmāzīli."

And with one final heave, Laena Velaryon was sent to sea. Gone forever.

Next Chapter: Driftmark

Rhae struggles through encounters with old friends, lost family, and new supposed allies at the funeral reception on Driftmark.

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #aegon ii x oc

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krisstheidiot · 3 months

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1-Character Intros 1.0

A/N:- It's a lot but I thought this would be more of an effective background and context than in pics so yeah spare me guys I wrote this with half my usual braincell lol

@series directory

Name: Y/N Holmes

Age: 18

Year: Freshmen (Fall Sem)

Major: Double major in Computer science and Film Studies with a minor in Fashion Design.

Extracurriculars: Student Rep in the student council, Tennis, Theatre, Writing.

Vibes: Chaotic Academia, Occasionally casual chic, Smiley, Crack most of the time, Spontaneous, Very Indecisive, Sarcasm goes undetected as jokes, Every word is laced with sarcasm so good luck, history is full of how to pull off crimes but its for research nothing much.

Background: Part French(Maternal) and part British-Korean(Paternal), Skipped two years when she was a kid but then took a gap before applying for college, met Seungmin and Han in 7th grade, Mom is a famous fashion designer, Dad a surgeon, during the gap she took she had gone on a trip around Europe with her mom and made friends in France during the month she stayed there.

Name: Kim Seungmin

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Double major in Journalism and Media Arts.

Extracurriculars: Treasurer(Student Council), Runs the campus newsletter, Photography club, Baseball.

Vibes: Smart Casual look, Citycore, Straightforward, does not believe in delulu, Sarcastic mean but funny in a way, will sassy shit on people who bother the people he cares about, pretty smile, is very sentimental inside, book boyfriend coded to the T. (*Mom I want one*)

Name: Han Jisung

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Double major in Audio Engineering and Music Technology

Extracurriculars: Extra curriculars head(student council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks"

Vibes: Grunge, graphic tees with blazers, Beatles, Chaos, Very shinchan coded lol, Sirius black outfits, Emo boy x Indie, funny but the stupid kind, Will snort at a funeral, under the surface he is very feeling like very, likes anime, will force you to watch silent voice and then proceed to cry like a baby though ofc you would too, Taps his knee to calm his anxiety.

Name: Bang (Christopher) Chan

Age: 22

Year: Senior

Major: Double major in Music Production and Audio Engineering.

Extracurriculars: President(student council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks".

Vibes: Black, Casual Neat, Comfort is fashion core, Protective, Nice, sweet, Caring, will smile at you for no reason at all, Cry and the person who did it will be 6 feet under, Mans is a walking green flag y'all, Father of 7, Aussie Aussie Aussie, Kangaroo, Very huggable.

Name: Lee Minho

Age: 21

Year: Junior

Major: Major in Dance and Minor in Culinary Arts

Extracurriculars: Vice president(School council), Dance team, Volunteers at the animal shelter.

Vibes: Casual comfortable, does not like being extravagant, add cat fur on every piece of clothing, Convenient chic fashion, Sass in a very aggressive manner, Mans has evil written all over that attractive ass smirk on his face but in a good way ofc, Will not take anyone's shit, prefers cats to humans but honestly who doesn't, Cat butler to his three fur babies(we Stan).

Name: Seo Changbin

Age: 21

Year: Junior

Major: Music technology and Production

Extracurriculars: Secretary(Student Council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks".

Vibes: Black again, But make it more edgy, beanies, gym buddy, will fight someone for you, Mans is strong and fit, intimidating at first look but girl don't kid me he is the sweetest when you get to know him, Badtz Maru but slay, will bring you to eat with him because why the hell not.

Name: Hwang Hyunjin

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Fine Arts and Dance.

Extracurriculars: Arts, Dance team, Soccer team.

Vibes: Artsy light academia, Fancy, luxury, part times as a model(flex), Sassy, Judgy sometimes, Side eye 10x, Fears Minho, Sad eater, Seungmin biased, Procrastinates too much, Laughs at every thing you say, Laughing while clapping 100x.

Name: Lee Felix (Yongbok)

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Culinary arts.

Extracurriculars: Gaming club, Dance team, E-culture club.

Vibes: Fancy, colourful, pastels, bright, Deep voice baby face, So sunshiney all the time that you might melt from the warmth he radiates, mans is fixated on levelling up in his games, will help you build your pc, rgb went brr, streams a lot on twitch, shouting ensues whenever he is playing headphones recommended to protect your eardrums.

Name: Yang Jeongin

Age: 19

Year: Freshmen(Spring Sem)

Major: Fashion Design

Extracurriculars: Soccer team, Theatre(Costume design), Campus volunteer for extra merits.

Vibes: Modern chic, very stylish, ootd's all the time, very confident somehow and will judge people just because, Sass king, Baby bread, is very much the maknae on top even if he isn't the youngest in a setting, also models part time yay!, this guy will bully you about your height ofc in association with Seungmin.

Name: Simon Daneu

Age: 25

Occupation: CEO of a company specialising in Games and Software called Solyx.

Background: Y/N's Cousin brother but is closer to a real one because of their bond, Part French(Paternal) and part American-Korean(Maternal).

Vibes: Formal casual, Polo shirts, Button ups, corduroy pants, very chic, very overprotective as well, will spoil with no hesitation, still will bully as well with no hesitation whatsoever, likes mocking his younger sisters and brother, will pull out his card even you need the most trivial things because with him no one pays.

Name: Noelle Daneu

Age: 20

Occupation: Famous chef/baker, Owns a line of cafes and bakery/patisseries called 'The Dusk' around that are viral for their desserts and specials, also a model.

Background: Simon's younger sister, Y/N's cousin sister but is closer to a real one because of their bond, Part French(Paternal) and part American-Korean(Maternal).

Vibes: Light academia, Boss girl look, Is very funny, will spoil her younger sibs, Y/N is her baby sister and will be spoiled to bits, besties, Is very sassy which is very much a family trait honestly.

Name: Theo Holmes

Age: 9

Background: Y/N's lil brother, is a elementary student, lives in Seoul, very much rich kid but the good kind.

Vibes: Whatever mom buys lol, acts way too smug for his won good, will get bonked if he doesn't behave, finds it funny when y/n is annoyed and it makes his life a bit better to see her irritated, will tease y/n and then will whine when faced with retaliation, fights like they were enemies and then the very next minute will be giggling around like idiots.

Name: Amelia Wallis

Age: 19

Background: Y/N's bestie from Paris(met when y/n was on the Europe trip)

Vibes: Confident, cool, fashionable, always looking out for y/n, will hit someone for her.

Name: Mattheo Grey

Age: 20

Background: Y/N's bestie from Paris(met when y/n was on the Europe trip)

Vibes: Dark academia, poems, research papers, theatre kid, Hamilton.

Name: Elliot Wesley

Age: 19

Background: Y/N's bestie from London(met when y/n was on the Europe trip and then proceeded to become friends with Mattheo and Amelia)

Vibes: Smug, confident, bold, proud, country club fashion, tennis partners with y/n when she was in London, is very annoying when he wants to be.

Series Taglist:- @hyunverse , @nujeskz , @queen-in-the-shadows , @phtogravi , @authentic-65 , @rylea08 ,......

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neechees · 7 months

Text

What's actually kind of hilarious is that Laura went through so many lengths to lie for her scams only to admit to those scams later which also ratted herself out in the process, confirming her notoriety, and ensuring nobody would ever trust her again.

She made such a BIG FUSS about trying to convince people she was dead, including defacing a REAL funeral directory board to put her own name & fake funeral date on it, stealing a REAL dead person's funeral photos and death certificate, staging a photo of her faked "dead" body which she sent to multiple people unprompted as "proof" (which traumatized a lot of people like its disgusting), impersonating her own sister and mother and harassing multiple users (including me) to try convince people she had actually died. And then after she'd finally left and came back as sheeyanc and I called her out, she literally fucking came back to tumblr, ON VIDEO, WITH HER OWN FACE AND VOICE, ADMITTING TO LYING ABOUT DYING AND SCAMMING, but STILL insisting she wasn't Sheeyanc and that I was just "blaming her for every scam", only to later reuse the sheeyanc scam AGAIN and ADMIT SHE WAS SHEEYANC, just like we said!

She went through ALL that effort only to literally rat herself out and STILL CONTINUE to lie sgdjxhehc

#SEE YOU SHOULD'VE JUST SAT THERE AND ATE YOUR FOOD

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indignantlemur · 8 months

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The Directory!

Emigre: link

Pairing(s): Original Andorian Character/Original Human Character (Dagmar/Shral), Andorian/Andorian, Andorian/Human/Andorian/Andorian

Rating: Explicit (as of chapter 44)

Status: In-Progress, available via AO3

A tear in the fabric of space and time has consequences that echo across ages; an unexpected arrival from the twenty-first century challenges a nation's perceptions and sets a most unlikely precedent. An exploration of Andorian culture from a Human's POV.

The Stars Keep Watch: link

Pairing(s): Va'Al Trask/Original Human Character (Va'Al/Mira)

Rating: Explicit

Status: In-Progress, available via AO3

Mira Vos signed up for Starfleet only to find herself posted to hell. Undersupplied and overstressed, the fighting on J'Gal threatens to wear her down. The arrival of a special forces unit led by a handsome Andorian promises a break in the routine... A classic wartime romance - but In Space.

🎄🎁❄️Deck the Halls (and Not the Vulcans): link

Pairings: Dagmar/Shral (background)

Rating: Teen

Status: Complete, available on AO3

It's winter time in San Francisco, and the Andorian embassy has just been challenged to participate in a friendly competition between the Federation's founding species' embassies. The objective? To see who can best decorate a Terran Christmas tree. The prize? Nothing less than deeply coveted bragging rights for the coming year.

Dagmar Gunnarssen has never been so ready for anything in her entire life.

Hoarfrost: 🚧🛠️

Pairing(s): Dagmar Gunnarssen & Ambassador Thoris th'Kor, Background relationships from Emigre

Rating: Teen

Status: In-Progress, not yet available via AO3. (Pssst! Sneak peak available: link)

An unusually powerful ion storm forces Ambassador Thoris and his retinue to abandon ship over a largely uninhabited planet. Some of the last to make it to the escape pods, Thoris and Dagmar wind up separated from the others. Together, they must navigate a frozen, eerily barren landscape - and survive.

Emigre Art:

Shral: finished

Thelen: finished with detail shots

Miraal: in-progress, in-progress update

Ambassador Thoris: finished (tentative)

Vrath: finished

'An Eventful Meeting' : finished

IndignantLemur's Very Serious & Accurate Antennae Expression Guide: here!

Dagmar's courting ring: here

Kelenthor the Clanless: here

Fancy Drinks and Fancy Duds: in-progress

Andorian Chitin Map Reference: Thelen, Thoris, Shral: here

IndignantLemur's Very Serious & Accurate Quad Marriage Diagram: here

Dagmar sketches: here

Thoris sketches: here

Winter Holiday Series:

Dagmar/Shral: In-progress 1, in-progress 2, finished

Mermay Series:

Andorian Mermaids/Swimming with Dagmar: in-progress, finished

CANON Fan Art:

Shran: here

Commissions/Gifts:

Serrin of Romulus: finished (@bigblissandlove1 commission)

S'Talon of Romulus: in-progress (silly) & finished (@bigblissandlove1 commission)

Gift commission: finished (@the-lady-general commission)

Emperor Georgiou: finished (@the-lady-general commission)

Lt Hemmer: finished (@nichestartrekkie0-0 gift)

Cmdr Ophelia Zubira: finished (@unknownfacelessfanfictions)

Andorian Headcanons:

Andorians and Food

Andorians and the Sea

Andorian Governing Bodies & The Role of Nepotism

Andorian Marriage Dynamics & Divorce

Andorian Proposals

Andorian Religion & Spirituality (And horror stories)

The Andorian Imperial Clan

Andorian Hair

Andorian Holidays

Andorian Courtship Ring Metallurgy

Andorian Medical Professionals

Andorian Awards and Commendations

Andorians and Figure Skating

Andorians and Dancing

Andorians and Currency

The Andorian Facepalm?

Andorian-Vulcan relations pre-ST:ENT

Andorian Language and Conlang

Andorian Weddings and Funerals

Andorian Attitudes on Interspecies Relationships

Andorian-Human Hybridization

The Am Tal and The Andorian Incident

Andorian Clan Identification and Chitin Patterns

Andorian Names

Andorians and Adoption

Clanless Andorians

Andorians and Rites of Passage into Adulthood

The Code of the Ushaan and the Holmgang

Andorian Fairy Tales

Kelenthor the Clanless and Watercolours

Human-Andorian First Contact headcanons

Andorian Fashion and Fabrics

Are Andorians Extroverts or Introverts?

Andorian Family Dynamics

Andorian Cosmetics and Perfumes

Andorian Arts: Theatre/Opera/Poetry/Etc

Andorian Quad Marriages vs Bonds

Temperatures on Andoria

Andorian Humour and Philosophy

The Spirits of Andoria

Andorian Blood Chemistry RE: Toxins and Cyanide

Andorian Homes and Decor

Star Trek Species in the Star Wars Universe

Emigre General Discussions:

Healing and Grief in Emigre

The Bulreeng Taal Beatdown

Author's Commentary: Chapter 41 - Grace and Poise

Author's Commentary: Chapter 37 - Connection

What Do The Andorians (and Dagmar) of Emigre Smell Like?

Author's Commentary: Chapter 43: The Star Thief

What Language Is Dagmar Speaking?

Author's Commentary: Chapter 46 - Face the Facts

Director's Cut - ask for a writer's commentary on a chapter, section, line, or scene in their work, or send a ⭐for free-range rambles!

Writer Ask Game - send an emoji, get an answer!

OC Emoji Ask Game - send an emoji, specify the OC, and get an answer!

Emigre Playlists:

Dagmar - I Don't Belong In This Club

Dagmar - All I Can Do Is Try

Dagmar/Shral - I Will Melt With You

Dagmar/Thelen - Shut Up & Dance

Anlenthoris th'Kor - The Old Warhawk

Emigre Atmospheric Mixes:

Dagmar At The Office

Hovercar Ride With Shral

Hoarfrost Atmospheric Mixes:

Walking Through A Blizzard

Waiting Out A Snowstorm In A Cave

Alien Aurora While Camping In The Snow

OFFICIAL TAG LIST

(You can always request to be added to the list!)

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paenling · 1 year

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paenling's phic directory :)

DARK/ANGST:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Psychosomatic — Danny gets a paper cut. It isn't just a paper cut. Warnings: ghost hunger, vomiting, body horror, sensory overload, panic attacks. Pairing: none. Words: 3,358. Complete (1/1). Part 1 of Vice AU.

Momma's Boy — The Wisconsin Ghost kidnaps Madeline Fenton. Plasmius saps Phantom's last reserves of energy. Danny Fenton tears Vlad Masters apart. These are not coincidences. Identity reveal. Warnings: ghost hunger/cannibalism, graphic violence body horror, dissociation, self-harm, PTSD. Pairing: none. Words: 63,207. Complete (10/10). Part 2 of Vice AU.

The Miracle Year — “I feel like shit,” he finally says. It lacks the slapdash eloquence of a proper existential crisis, but Danny decides he’s kind of over that. Post-reveal. Warnings: ghost hunger/cannibalism, body horror, disordered eating, PTSD. Pairing: none. Words: 7,095. Incomplete (1/?). Part 3 of Vice AU.

the art of backmasking — For the first time, Valerie and Danny are totally honest with each other. Identity reveal. Warnings: none. Pairing: Danny/Valerie. Words: 7,467. Complete (2/2).

Deucalion — A month after the funeral, they saw Danny again. Frankenstein-inspired corpse/full ghost AU. Warnings: child death, grief/mourning, dehumanization, child abuse/neglect, corpse desecration, non-consensual body modification/drug use, homophobia. Pairing: none. Words: 5,631. Incomplete (1/5).

a fort of lovers' teeth — Ghosts wanted attention from the living, but Paulie had vanished without a sound. Something was wrong. Pain Train AU, inhuman ghosts, eldritch/cryptid Danny. Warnings: graphic violence, dehumanization. Pairing: Paulina/Star. Words: 9,114. Complete (1/1).

FUN/FLUFF:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things To Do Instead of Rest — Maddie felt like she could understand him again. (Learning to love your weird dead son.) Warnings: None. Pairing: none. Words: 2,198. Complete (1/1).

softest sleep — When Danny has bad dreams, he goes to Tucker. Warnings: none. Pairing: Danny/Tucker. Words: 538. Complete (1/1).

Skating On — Nobody told Valerie about the winter truce. (Gift for SummersSixEcho for the 2022 Phandom Holiday Truce!) Warnings: none. Pairing: Danny/Valerie. Words 9,315. Complete (1/1).

OTHER:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Space Case — Not quite consumed but too sick to stay human, Danny only escaped death by choosing exile instead. Warframe crossover feat. Infested!Danny. Warnings: body horror. Pairing: none. Words: 2,027. Incomplete (1/?).

Raising Hell — A seemingly-routine errand for Clockwork puts Danny in over his head when he finds an alternate Amity Park plagued by demons instead of ghosts. Warnings: implied/referenced mind control. Pairing: Danny/Tucker (background). Words: 12,228. Incomplete (2/?).

Last updated: 2/8/23

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #fic rec #ao3 link #dp fic #milo writes #shamelessly self-promoting for once #because i'm too lazy to crosspost #thank you for understanding

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azamansource · 7 months

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hi all! decided to make a little tag directory to help you all find stuff here

interview with the vampire

art

amc podcast

hotel portofino

theatre

a doll's house

arms and the man

behind the beautiful forevers

coriolanus

chicken shop shakespeare

east is east

salomé

the funeral director

the othello project

the winter's tale

troy story

white teeth

castmates and friends

laundry (a short play assad wrote)

other film and tv projects: cucumber / mcdonald's ad / the fox and the grapes / the saint of southall / this is the night mail / vera

social media posts and stories

many thanks to all of you for the amazing art and content and especially to @wheresbenni and @sharona1x2 without whose beautiful gifs and edits azsource would not have been possible

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 2 years

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Bad Ending 1: Catch And Release (And Catch Again)

It really shouldn't be a competition of which was worse -- being violently tortured by a psycho or being so, so lonely -- and yet Jonas still managed to pick the worst choice.

Yaaaaay, one of the first "Bad Endings" is here!! Since there's multiple different, fun ways Jonas's ransom could potentially end, I'll be branching out into many of the options! Some may be a one and done (endings where one of them dies) whereas others might span on for one or two sequel fics.

For this ending, Jonas's ransom was paid in full and on time, meaning he has been returned back home without any fuss (:

As always, if there’s a tag I missed or anything you’d like me to specifically mark, please let me know so I can add it for future fics!

Taglist : @whumpsday @painsandconfusion @suspicious-whumping-egg @t0rture-me

CW: Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Neglect, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Consensual NSFW

Word Count: 3.8K

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was so fucking stupid. What the hell was Jonas thinking in that traumatized little brain of his? The correct answer was that he wasn’t thinking at all or he might have realized how this could blow up in his face like a literal shotgun blast.

But he needed this. He didn’t know why he needed this, but something deep within him was telling him it was as necessary as oxygen. A longing he had never experienced, much less expected, that tugged his heart into his throat to do something before he lost what was left of his mind. This had to be a trauma response of some kind, right? A desire to reach closure during the worst chapter of his life? Something that had been broken in conjunction with his bones and spirit during his captivity that could only start to heal if he listened to his gut feeling?

Well, those were the excuses Jonas was going with in any case.

He could neither confirm nor deny how his psyche was healing due to his parents’ adamance he didn’t need therapy to cope with his ordeal. So, he chose to believe this was perfectly normal and reasonable behavior for a former victim. It wasn’t like he was being obsessive, not on the same level as Malik. He simply didn’t have anything better to do in his abundance of free time than to search up every funeral home in a two hundred mile radius. Family owned, company owned, new ones, old ones – Jonas dug through all the records and phone numbers he could get his hands on. He searched for listed associates with the surname Kelly and Kelley and Kellie and Kelee, for directors named Malick or Malik or Maleek, and every combination of the full name imaginable.

It had taken a good few days of amateur detective work, but it felt like this hit was the one. God, Jonas hoped it was. He wasn’t sure how many eighteen hour days he could spend pouring over phone books and internet results he could handle in a row. Not because he was obsessive, just because he had nothing better to do. Having gotten used to the routine of skipping meals and sleeping sporadically, it was a schedule he adapted to easily, despite the head butler urging him to leave his bedroom for fresh air after the seventh consecutive day of research. He could leave when he wanted and right now he had important matters to attend to. Important matters he could never share with another living soul unless he wanted to be institutionalized at his father’s request.

With the bedroom door locked, Jonas picked up the phone and dialed the number from the directory with shaking fingers. A part of him was hoping he’d found what he was looking for. A part of him was dreading the idea of his captor answering, instead wishing he would hit another dead end instead. He double and triple checked the bedroom door again to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted, that prying eyes and ears couldn’t see what he was up to. It was highly unlikely his parents would come down this hall of the East wing and a housemaid had already collected his scarcely touched dinner plate. For all intents and purposes, Jonas should be completely alone. Just as he always had been.

The phone on the other end of the line rang a few times, each little buzz causing his heart to beat in matching rhythm. Stupid idea, stupid, stupid. Even if this was the man he was looking for, there was no guarantee he would pick up the call given how close it was to the end of their listed hours of operations. Jonas would never be able to leave a voicemail if that was the case. He could call back in the morning, perhaps, but would that make him look obsessive to call twice in a row? Because he wasn’t obsessive.

A soft click broke through the ringing. “Thank you for calling Kelley Funeral Home, how may I help you?”

Jonas felt like every breath that had been gearing up for full hyperventilation had been knocked right out of him. Weeks of searching had finally paid off when he heard that familiar deep voice, a southern twang on the syllables that melted the words into something smooth and rich. He found him, he found Malik. He found the man who had assisted in his kidnapping and kept him hostage in a basement for months, torturing him for sick pleasure and killing others for a grisly side business. A serial killer, a sociopath, an insane bastard who deserved to rot for all of his bloody crimes under the guise of being a small town sweetheart.

…now what?

“Hello?” Malik asked when Jonas had yet to respond to his initial question.

He hung up the phone, all but throwing the receiver onto his bed like the plastic had burned him. The air he thought he lost came back to him to suck in great gasps, heart racing and trembling from head to toe. Malik wasn’t even physically here and he could still reduce Jonas to a shaking mess with a how-do-you-do alone. Was that everything he had hoped to achieve during his wild goose chase in tracking down his previous captor? What was he honestly expecting to happen? What did he plan to do moving forward now that he had this information of Malik’s whereabouts on hand? The obvious answer seemed to be that he should take this information to the authorities.

Yet…a million different worst case scenarios ran through his head. The police might think he was in on this whole operation, there might not be any evidence for them to find if Malik knew how to cover his tracks, people might think he was obsessive for hunting down the man who tormented him for no reason. And he wasn’t obsessive!

So, he called the funeral home again once it didn’t feel as if he’d break down into a fit of hysterics.

“Thank you for calling Kelley Funeral Home, how may I help you?” He repeated.

“I…I,” Jonas felt his throat close up, unable to swallow whatever overwhelming emotion he was feeling. Fear, sadness, elation. Every hair on his body was standing on edge, the scars littering his tan skin throbbing with phantom pain as a reminder to what Malik had done. “I’m sorry, I-I just, um…”

“It’s alright, take your time,” Malik said in a wretchedly sweet tone that made Jonas want to scream. “I understand these kinds of phone calls can be tough.” He didn’t know the half of it. “Are you needing assistance with the loss of a loved one?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know why the lie came so easily. All he knew was that he wanted to keep Malik on the phone, wanted to keep him talking with that calm, soothing voice and trick him into thinking everything would be alright.

“May I ask who you’ve lost?”

Everyone, everything. Himself, Jess or Jane or whatever her name was, Carly, Todd, all the other nameless victims he was forced to watch meet their ends.

Jonas cleared his throat in the hopes of dislodging the lump trying to choke him up. “My…aunt.”

There was the sound of a few papers shuffling. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman.”

“Yeah, she…sh-she was,” What was he doing, what the fuck was he doing. “I…I don’t know what to do. I need help.”

Malik hummed. “It’s good to ask for help during difficult times like these, you shouldn’t try to carry that weight by yourself.”

Fuck him. Fuck him for being so well versed in the way of condolences when he was the one inflicting unimaginable amounts of hurt onto Jonas for sick satisfaction. It was unfair in the way his honeyed words could coat the inside of his mind and silence all those nasty thoughts. A warm comfort seeped into his bones, helping to ease the vibrating of his wound up muscles before they aggravated any of his more damaged nerves. Malik was right; he shouldn’t be struggling with this burden all alone. That was the point of therapy, of family and friends to fall back on, neither of which Jonas had at his disposal. All he had was a telephone and the business number for a serial killer. Someone was better than no one.

“I…I’m trying n-not to. But I don’t know who…who else to talk to.”

“Have you been able to process your grief since the incident?”

“Um…I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s as good a place to start as any. It won’t help none to arrange a send off if you’re not able to let go yet.”

“How do I…know if I’m still holding on?”

“Seein’ as you’re not actually looking to schedule a real funeral, I’d say you’re holding on pretty damn tight.”

…huh?

“Y’know, lover,” Malik’s voice had dropped, sweet becoming sultry with a single octave. “This would have been a helluva lot more convincin’ if you had used that li’l star sixty-nine trick to hide your caller ID first.”

Jonas felt like a knife had been twisted into his gut, a sensation he was unfortunately quite familiar with. “Wh-what?”

“I saw the area code, Jonie. Ain’t no one calling from upstate for a service down in Ashton. ‘Sides the fact it came up as Robert Belmont. Is that your daddy?” He explained and oh, Jonas could hear the smirk in his voice.

“H-how…what,” No, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Malik wasn’t meant to know it was Jonas on the other end, he wasn’t meant to know he still had his claws sunk deep into the poor boy.

Instead, he laughed at Jonas’s fumbling. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of my favorite pretty boy calling me at work?”

Yeah, Jonas, what was the reason you had spent the better part of two and a half weeks stalking a deepweb murderer with the intent to give him a call? Was he still going to grasp at straws to preserve his psyche, repeating the lie that it was for closure or police intel or something that was for the good of future victims? Those had to be the real reasons, because the younger man sure as hell wasn’t obsessed.

“I…I don’t know…” He whispered.

“You don’t know?” Malik drawled. Jonas could imagine him reclining back in the office chair looking bored as ever. “So you just felt like wastin’ my time this fine Thursday evening?”

“Fuck you,” The words slipped out before Jonas could stop them, leaving a bitter feeling on his tongue. It felt pathetic to say a shot of anxiety spiked his heart rate at the idea of talking back to Malik in such a vulgar fashion. Before, he would have gotten a backhand to the face and the threat to split his tongue. But he was safe now. He was safe. Malik couldn’t get to him here, despite the fact Tucker and his goons had managed to smuggle him out prior.

“We’re awful brave when there’s five cities between us, aren’t we? Where was that sassmouth when I had you all to myself, or had I already bled that outta you?”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! He had no control over Jonas now! The heir refused to acknowledge the way his hands were trembling again as if they were cold, instead focusing on the heat of anger bubbling in his chest. “Maybe this is a wiretap, you psycho. I could be getting all the information I need to turn you in to the FBI.”

The older man snorted. “The fact that you said any of that is enough for me not to believe you. As if your folks would keep looking into any of this after they got you back. Deal’s a deal, Jonie.”

So much rage that had been burning within him fizzled into resignation just like that. Malik was right yet again; his parents hadn’t bothered to look deeper into his kidnapping or pressing legal charges against any of the perpetrators. Doing so would mean to continue keeping a police case open, which meant having to have a record of proceedings to inform potential business partners if it was ongoing. The idea of a company being primarily involved in a lawsuit, regardless of the details, was bad for investors. Not to mention that as far as they were concerned, the transaction had been made and there was no need to go back on the agreement. Tucker got his money, Jonas got to keep his organs. Why keep digging into old wounds?

Denying him therapy meant they could deny that there was anything wrong with him as a result of the kidnapping. The poor boy was nothing short of perfect, just as every Belmont was. The dark thoughts could swirl in his repressed memories as much as they liked so long as they never exposed themselves to the public. Besides, the entire manor had been upgraded in terms of security, both technical and in manpower – a hefty price to pay to give Jonas peace of mind. Ungrateful thing, no wonder they didn’t want him in therapy, who knew what kind of things he’d blab to a nosy doctor that could be taken out of context to smear the family name. Just because he was a troubled boy doesn’t mean he gets to lash out and throw a fit to bring everyone else down.

“Listen, lover,” Malik said, interrupting the other’s brief bout of self loathing. “When you figure out why you’re so obsessed with me, you’re more than welcome to call back.”

What!? Jonas wasn’t obsessed! Malik was the one who was obsessed, Malik had made his unnatural interest in the Belmont boy very clear from the start. Soiling his skin with scars that still ached in the cold temperatures, forcing him to develop borderline anorexia that refused to let him stomach more than a few bites of any meal, slicing off bits and pieces of him as if the man was attempting to peel away the layers of his soul. But sure, yeah, Jonas was the obsessed one just because he was the one that decided to make the first move after he had been booted from the basement. So much for being Malik’s ‘favorite’ considering he had never reached out once since their separation.

Or was that because Jonas had never really been his most beloved living victim after all, he wondered with icy realization. It was quite possible he was only treasured because he was physically available to be toyed with. A convenience. Similar to how most marriages worked in his family tree, the relationships were arranged based on end goals rather than true love, though in rare cases mutual feelings had been garnered. Malik, however, was not an individual who could grow to develop deep emotions like that. Love was a foreign concept to sociopaths, at least in the traditional sense. He had never genuinely loved Jonas regardless of the bloody affection he flaunted. Obviously he didn’t, or he wouldn’t have abused and mutilated him for personal enjoyment. Jonas had always known this.

So why did it feel like Malik had succeeded in ripping his heart out of his chest once and for all?

He was aware of the tears running down his cheeks before he registered the dial tone ringing in his ear, indicating Malik had hung up some time ago. His hand slowly lowered the receiver to his side, unable to do much else while he processed everything to the best of his traumatized abilities. Tears continued to blur his vision, but green eyes were hardly looking at anything. Alone again. After so much work to track him down, after so many months of listening to him sweet talk like a real spouse, Jonas was left all alone again. The fleeting taste of human connection was a sham, just as he had always known it was during his captivity. Yet now, for some reason, the promise of being loved had felt like the greatest high of his life. Of course, the lows were brutal and unforgiving, but they were so easily brushed to the side of his mind.

Those five minutes of physical affection, those throw away lines of praise, had felt more than enough to balance out losing a couple pints of blood for. A small price to pay all things considered. Even his own parents couldn’t fake a familial bond that well.

Wait, no, hold on. No, no, no, back the fuck up. Jonas was not seriously excusing Malik’s sickening behavior as real love, was he? A couple kisses that the younger man hadn’t wanted in the first place were meant to undo the kicks to the ribs he’d endured from steel toed boots? He was no better than his own mother then, dotting her expensive concealer under her bruised eye and telling Jonas his father was in a foul mood today so don’t bother him. Malik and Robert Belmont were nothing alike, though. Malik’s kindness was much more well versed, making it all the more addictive. There was a substantial amount of distance between Jonas and the funeral home basement, meaning he never had to worry about hands squeezing around his battered throat again. And if that was the case, well…why not reap the reward of Malik’s good graces? It seemed like a solid deal, and the Belmonts were excellent businessmen after all.

The number was redialed before Jonas had finished wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

“That was fast,” A voice answered in lieu of the same formal greeting. “Darlin’, as much as I love playing phone tag with you, I do have a jo-”

“I want to talk to you,” Jonas interrupted.

The strength in his confession surprised him, a wobble quickly returning to his voice as fresh tears clumped his lashes together. “I…I want to hear your voice,” He whispered.

“…like a phone sex thing?”

Well, there went that attempt at being emotionally vulnerable with Malik. He should have known better. The remaining tears that clung to the corners of his eyes were only dislodged as a result of his body jolting in shock at such a lewd suggestion.

“Wh-what!? No! No, I, I-I don’t even know, Christ…” Jonas could feel his cheeks burning at an uncomfortable degree, barely resisting the urge to curl in on himself to hide his embarrassment from the older man on the other end of the phone. He heard Malik laugh, clearly amused at his flustering, and the smooth baritone only made his stomach tighten further.

There was a beat of silence. “You’re kiddin’, though, right? You don’t know what phone sex is?”

Jonas hoped he sounded as incredulous as he must look right now, ignoring the dried tear tracks and flushed cheeks. “Why would I know what that is? That doesn’t sound like it would work for anything.”

“Aw, pretty boy ain’t lost his virtual virginity? That’s the saddest thing I ever did hear.” Malik teased.

“I, God, fuck me–”

“Would love to.”

“No, shut up,” He wasn’t that desperate. Yet. “I don’t want to talk about this!

There was more shifting of things on a desk and the squeak of a chair. “Well then, what are you holdin’ up my landline for? I ain’t gonna sit here doin’ pillow talk with you all night, I have shit to do.”

Then hang up, Jonas wanted to taunt. The problem with that was Malik really would hang up and had no guarantee of when he would answer his call again. As much as he wanted to believe he had grown the bravado to stand up to the killer, he wasn’t sure his fragile self esteem could take the blow of being readily ignored.

“What…do you have to do?” Jonas asked. Redirect the conversation to be about Malik, narcissists loved that. The older man should be kept plenty engaged.

“Do you really want to know?”

Scratch that. Jonas wasn’t interested in being regaled by grisly details of whatever illegal activities he’d gotten up to since his departure. Ignorance is bliss. “N-no…”

“Then I reckon this talk is done for the night,” Malik said.

“Wait, w-wait!” Not yet, not yet, please, not yet. “You’re…Malik, you’re the only one I can talk to. About anything. N-no one else gets it…”

“A cryin’ shame. Go to a therapy support group like a normal person.”

“I can’t. My parents won’t let me, they don’t even talk to me about it! And, and no one else in the house would be able to understand and everyday I feel like I’m going to fucking explode and you’re the only person I have left who will at least acknowledge what happened!” His voice cracked on the last word in a truly pitiful display.

His outburst was only met with a sigh. “Don’t mean I really care.”

“You like when I cry though,” Jonas sniffled. “You said I’m pretty when I’m in pain.”

“You are,” Malik agreed.

“Well I’m in a whole lot of fucking pain right now because of you. I can’t, I…I can’t handle it on my own. I need someone else to see it,” If he had drank more of the offered water to him during meals, he might have had enough fluid in his system to produce a few more tears. Instead, his eyes and nose merely burned. “Please…”

His pathetic pleas for Malik to take advantage of and enjoy Jonas’s post-traumatic suffering must have enticed him enough to relent, because the phone had yet to click in disconnection. How sad it was that after everything he’d been through, the hurdles he’d overcome to survive, the horrors no young man should have to see, he was begging with his tail between his legs for Malik to torment him again. Anything to have his attention back on Jonas again. Anything to trick the Belmont heir into thinking another person cared about him.

“Ten minutes,” Malik finally huffed. “That’s ‘til closing time. I suggest you don’t waste it.”

Jonas blinked. He…really wasn’t sure if all that groveling was going to work when the other man wasn’t physically here to witness his damp cheeks and trembling frame. But it had. That brief discard of dignity had earned him ten minutes of talk time with a killer who stalked his nightmares. Laid out in those terms, that hardly seemed like a prize to win at all.

“Tick tock, Jonas.”

“Um, I…,” Shit, shit, what were they supposed to talk about? What would be a topic that might entice Malik enough to answer the next time he called if this conversation was anything to go by? Something humiliating, something cathartic…

“What’s…h-how does…phone sex work…?”

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hacash · 1 year

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deranged ship ideas which will never come to fruition but if they do I will give JSuds my firstborn

Nate x Bex: Bex deserves someone to value her for herself, rather than as a pathway to a greater goal. Nate deserves one relationship in his life which doesn’t bring with it all the baggage from Richmond. Rupert deserves to be cheated on.

Also: they’re both cute as a button; the smol guy x tall girl thing is always hot; Nate gets on with little girls and thus could be the perfect stepfather for li’l Diana; Bex can be a little awkward and quirky at times; and Bex is proven to have a thing for the evil silver fox type.

(I actually do think the show could pull this off, so I may have been a bit rash with the future of my hypothetical firstborn already.)

Thierry x Richard: Thierry is Quebecois, Richard is European French. Richard is a sophisticate who knows a fine wine does not have to be an expensive wine, Thierry thinks wearing bright red Yeezys to a funeral is a solid life choice. They’re like star-crossed lovers. The only similarity is that they got red-carded reeaal quick at the West Ham match, and neither of them get to hold the team braincell very often.

Colin x Lindsay Higgins: I’ll say this until I’m blue in the face: ‘appreciates life’s little grey areas’ is code for queer person of faith. I don’t make the rules, this is just a fact. Also, please consider that Lindsay Higgins is an absolute fox and Colin ‘thirsty much?’ Hughes totally deserves to sleep with a hot vicar.

And ‘my body’s like a church in an airport’. Lindsay is a vicar. I’ve connected the dots. (You haven’t connected shit.)

Bumbercatch x Jan: Smolandtolsmolandtol.

Beard x Ms Bowen: She’s a bit quirky and snarky enough for Beard; Beard has that same slightly gruff but charmingly enigmatic vibe that Ms Bowen seemed to appreciate in Roy. Also, and this is the most important part, Ms Bowen is not Jane.

Sharon x Trent Crimm: Yes, I know they haven’t even interacted once, but that much swag combined would create a power couple literally too fabulous for us to witness. Their child would probably end up ruling the world.

Nate x Colin: (I must be the only person in fandom to whom Nate gives off an awkward late-bloomer queer vibe, but there you go.) I am an absolute freaking sucker for a ship where two people have genuinely hurt each other and still manage to come out the other side. Colin would absolutely encourage Nate to loosen up more and have fun; Nate would use his somewhat fighty nature to protect Colin. And, as I have said before, if I wasn’t supposed to ship Colin and Nate then why the fuck did they have a shirtless Billy Harris getting all close and personal with Nate while smooshing his face and going ‘look at your face, look at your face’ in the first episode?! Just what acting and directorial choices were going on there?!

Plus, for my newer followers, I am 100% convinced that Colin would go full Dark Side for an evil silver fox at the drop of a hat.

I know it’s not gonna happen but on the other hand, I really really think it could happen. JSuds, my firstborn could be all yours for the low, low price of going absolutely batshit this season.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso speculation #nate shelley #bex mannion #thierry zoreaux #richard montlaur #colin hughes #lindsay higgins #moe bumbercatch #jan maas #coach beard #ms bowen #sharon fieldstone #trent crimm: the independent

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baronvonkrieger · 2 years

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How Hispanic are the Addams Family?

Are The Addams Family Hispanic? If you go on Twitter, and do a search for the Addams family, there are a lot of people who seem obsessed with the Addams Family being Hispanic. One person tweeted "I did not realize there were people angry about Netflix’s casting for Wednesday because I genuinely thought that the Addams Family was a Latine family ………… are they supposed to be …… something else?" First of all, as an Hispanic, most us don't like being called "Latine" which is too close to "latrine", and many of us find “Latinx” obnoxious. It is LATINO!. Tim Burton must be convinced that the whole family is Latino, and so, he has cast Latinos as all the members of the Addams family.

I mean with a last name like Addams, how could they be anything but Hispanic? "Addams" may be the most common Hispanic surname of all. Who can forget how Miguel Hidalgo Addams was responsible for ringing the bell that led to Mexico's Independence from Spain? Of course Cinco De Mayo is a celebration of when Benito Juárez Addams drove the French soldiers of Napoleon Third from Mexico. That is why whenever Gomez hears Morticia speak French, he is driven into a frenzy, because of the mad passion of any Latino when French is spoken. To be clear, the whole idea of the Addams family being Latino has to do with one of the characters being named Gomez. When Charles Addams created the father character in the 1940s, this character not only had no name, he had no ethnic identity. He started out as Charles Addams wanting to satirize the image of the American family. So, instead of a tall and handsome father figure, he wanted his father figure to be short and ugly. How ugly? Well the look of the character was based on a Republican politician named Tom Dewey.

Tom Dewey was a Republican, and Charles Addams was a Democrat, so I think it's a good bet that Charles Addams wasn't his biggest fan. In the strips, we never saw a lot of the Addams family celebrating Cinco de Mayo, and I don't think Charles Addams ever had his children characters whacking a Pinata; well in the 1992 Animated series, I can hear Fester (voiced by Rip Taylor) begging to be the Pinata in a children's party. They were simply an inverse of what families at the time would have done; be it the father reading with great delight how big a brat his son was in school, or Wednesday throwing a tantrum for making the honor roll at school. For two dozen years, the weird family was best know for subverting expectations of what the average family would be depicted doing.

Until the 1962, none of the family members had names, except I think Grandmama. Then Aboriginal released dolls based on the characters, and Morticia, Wednesday, and Irving got names. For some reason the boy doll was named Irving, which I would tend to think of more as a Jewish name, than Hispanic. Morticia was based on Addams looking at the phone directory listings for funeral directors, and Wednesday was named for the child of woe in a poem. It would take a couple of more years to give the father and son the names we now know them by. When it came to the TV series, Charles Addams wanted "Pubert" for the son, and "Repelli" for the father. Neither were acceptable, because the network was being racist against revolting names.

The name "Pudgely" for the son was almost used, but "Pugsley" was the final choice. Charles Addams gave "Gomez" as a second choice for the father, after the name of a family friend. When it came to the last name of this family, Charles Addams initially objected to giving them Addams as their family name. He was too modest a man, to want his name for the characters. However it was explained to him that this was shorthand for "The Eccentric Family of Characters Created by Charles Addams”. He would go along with the family being named "Addams", and later came to embrace it. With a name like "Gomez", the show's creators decided Gomez would have a Castilian background.

His being Hispanic never played that big a part in the 1964 series. In fact, in an episode where the Addams Family had their family lineage being researched, it appears they came close to being related to the famous Adams family that had produced two US Presidents. That did bother them, and as Groucho would explain, the second D made the difference. In actuality, Charles Addams was indeed related to that famous family. There was also the leg of "Cousin Farouk Addams" sticking out of the swordfish. That first name suggests that some of the clan came from the Middle east.

To my knowledge, none of the cast of the 1964 series were Hispanic, and even John Astin acted more like Groucho Marx, then Ricardo Montalban. This changed with the 1991 Addams Family film. The film makers wanted to play up Gomez as a hot blooded and passionate Latin lover, so Gomez was portrayed by Puerto Rican actor Raul Julia. Raul Julia had the same effect on many women as Rudolf Valentino nearly a century earlier. Outside of Raul Julia, I can't think of a single family member of that version of the Addams family that is Hispanic, or particularly acts like an Hispanic. Christopher Lloyd plays Gomez's brother Fester, for Pete's sake. When they perform the Mamushka, "the dance of brotherly love," Gomez says it was taught by the Cossacks in the Addams Family. To my knowledge, there never were Cossacks in the Western Hemisphere, or in Spain.

I'm the son of an immigrant from San Salvador, and I'm a proud Hispanic, but do I need the Addams family to be Latino so I can identify with them? Of course not. I love the Addams Family because they are not afraid to march to their own drum beat. I love the family because they enjoy living in a creepy old house, and display all sorts of wonderfully eccentric treasures in this home. I love them because they are a close family. I wish i could love the new Wednesday series, but you won't see much of what I love in the new series, if the trailers are any indication of what we'll be getting. I believe the new series will be successful, but for all those who can't wait to see it on Netflix, I'm actually one of those who are looking for the third installment of the animated feature series instead. For those who will enjoy the new Wednesday series, I'm glad that the legacy of Charles Addams is still entertaining people.

#the addams family #Charles Addams #gomez addams #Wednesday Addams #Raul Julia #John Astin #Tim Burton

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