#as it turns out his best is. somewhat underwhelming

[mayfriend]

incorrect avatar quotes (13/?)

[dhampling]

ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES

this was such a fun one i love it he is simply a silly guy who wants to be a man of many talents thank you for the request avo I LOVE YOU

He looks at you expectantly. 

The small wodge of cake on the plate in front of you crumbles to dust as you squish it. Astarion pinches his nose. Eyes closed, a beleaguered sigh.

“Too much sugar.” You grimace. 

“It’s going to disintegrate if you do that.” 

You quirk a brow. Astarion looks down at his creation pitifully.

The sweet smell of fresh-baked goods, now somewhat marred by the unimpressive result on the counter in front of you. Kitchen scattered with cooking implements; his apron smattered with still billowing clouds of flour. 

“Clearly the recipe was incorrect, that’s all.” He hums. Looks at the cake for a moment with a stewing resentment in his eyes then turns on his heel. 

“You followed it exactly?” 

His head moves from side to side in a deliberating err.

“Kind of? Not really?”

-

Over the coming weeks he spends endless nights in your small kitchen working to figure out the art of baking, driven by the underwhelming response to his initial offering. 

Astarion argues that it’s his prerogative. With the tadpole so newly gone he wants to broaden his horizons, he purrs, glass in hand; now that he can try anything, why shouldn’t he?

The obvious answer here is that he can’t taste the fruits of his labour. 

No matter the freshness of the produce, nor the quality of the flour grain; it all resembles ash past the threshold of his fangs. 

 You’re frequently dispatched to the market to gather more treats for Astarion to experiment with - the textures, the smells, the way they come together in the binding heat of the stove - and despite a rocky start, you find yourself more and more impressed with the results.

He observes each time he comes to you with a platter of treats, notebook in hand; eyes glued to your face whilst you meticulously try each and every little morsel. 

What began as plain muffins and oat biscuits evolves quickly into bites of his own creation. 

He figures out how to make a creme filling; the perfect ratios for butter pastries, how to temper chocolate and the best ways in which to use it. You use the best descriptives you can manage to help him understand the texture, the taste; the consistency of everything that makes its way into your mouth as he fervently jots every last word down.

The big one - which he absolutely succeeds with - is your birthday cake. Richly decorated and built on the densest sponge you’ve ever tasted, topped with raspberries, almonds, fresh cream, vanilla. The anticipatory stare across the table as he watches the first forkful lift to your mouth and the sweetest kiss he receives as you smile into his. 

He enjoys it. A hobby, definitely. Not the kind of thing he’d pursue for gold - if only for the fact he can’t enjoy a single bite of his own creations - but if he can keep you in the finest of baked goods then he considers every delighted groan from your starving mouth a success. 

[thisisnotmeta]

Million Dollar Man

Chapter 1

-

Sent.

There it was—my very first music contract signed.

My hands swiped back and forth between the 'sent' and 'draft' inboxes, confirming the reality of the moment. The air shuddered with anticipation as I blankly stared at my inbox, silently praying for a reply in the mere 1.4 seconds since I hit 'send.'

Fresh out of university last year, I found myself grappling with the realisation that I needed to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Studying history had its limits—teaching or diving into more debt for a specialised master's degree were the conventional routes. However, nestled in the corners of my life was my little secret—I'd always been a songwriter. It wasn't something anyone really knew about until 3 months ago. After a drunken night in with my mum, I mustered the courage to share one of my demos with her. Her insistence that it was the greatest piece of music she'd ever heard, albeit the expected maternal praise, boosted my confidence. The morning after, armed with nothing more than my shitty Amazon mic and GarageBand, I sent three of my best demos to four different music labels across the country.

In the agonising months of waiting for a reply from any label, hope slipped through my fingers with each passing day. Just when despair threatened to engulf me, a glimmer of possibility emerged two weeks ago. Emails from two labels requesting in-person meetings to discuss my music further landed in my inbox, a lifeline amid the silence. Navigating a whirlwind 24-hour trip to London, I juggled the meetings, fueled by a mix of nerves and excitement. Having returned to my parents' home post-university, my part-time receptionist job became the financial anchor for one day moving out and starting my own new little life.

The journey from the North to London felt long, god it was so long, yet the promise of these potential signings kept me going. The meetings with both labels exceeded expectations, but Dirty Hit held a specific pull on me. They not only understood my musical aspirations but, to my disbelief, I met specifically with the label's founder, Jamie Oborne. A stark contrast to the very very lovely but somewhat underwhelming talent scout at the other label, Dirty Hit resonated with me on every level—the sound, the artists, the team. It felt like a perfect fit, a musical home where my compositions seamlessly blended with their illustrious discography.

The dream was a reality when Jamie extended the signing offer. Without hesitation, I accepted. The train ride back, though again, immensely long, was some of the best fun I’ve ever had. Amidst the clatter of the tracks, I scribbled down fragments for future songs, mapped out my imaginary world tour, envisioned albums, and even planned my Met Gala outfit. The euphoria of realising a lifelong dream had just basically become a reality in a matter of months hadn’t given me any time to process anything. But I was absolutely ready to potentially start something absolutely amazing. And here I was sitting in front of my MacBook, staring blankly at my Gmail.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind, a lot of online meetings, emailing and future discussing. Jamie liked my demos and wanted to get them produced and mixed professionally as well as teach me how to do it myself. I travelled back to London a few times in the weeks prior to practice and test with different producers the team thought I’d mix well with. My most successful session was my most recent, as Dirty Hit expensed a hotel for me for two nights in London to focus on my time in the studio. Ben Gleason, one of Dirty Hit’s leading producers, was someone who truly understood my music and shaped it in a way that I could genuinely hear one of my demos appearing on the radio, it was crazy. His vision and expertise were admirable to anyone. My demo, over the past 15 hours we worked on it, had turned into a real, titled potential single – ‘Million Dollar Man’.

Before I was sent to travel back home, we sent it off to the team to listen to and give feedback. It was a success, thank god. Waiting for the train to come in at Kings Cross, the sound of my ringtone filled my headphones. As I looked at my phone, I wasn’t fazed by the ‘unknown’ number and filled my boredom by answering it anyway.

‘Hello?’ I said in a slow voice, totally expecting some type of phone provider or accident scam, which usually came with answering unknown numbers.

“Hi, is this Camille?” A chirpy, womanly voice replied back to me.

“It is, yeah,” I replied nonchalantly. “Who is this, sorry?”

“Perfect! It’s Holly from Dirty Hit,” She replied. My breathing hitched, okay this phone call was important then and not just fun. This must be Jamie’s assistant, who I met a couple times through our Zoom meetings. “Thought I’d give you a little ring, so you can get my number saved and so I can update you on some things! We’ve just had a meeting today about what we want to do with you in the next few weeks and we went through everything you talked about, and we were thinking about potentially focusing you more on studio time right now, and we are wanting you to build on the songs you are in the process of and create one really really strong song that we can put out as your debut. What are your thoughts on that?”

“I think that’s a great idea! Ben and I were brainstorming a lot of songs that had great potential, so it would be cool to work with him again,” I practically begged through the phone. Ben is most definitely my favourite producer in the three I’d worked with in the short time. As much as I think Million Dollar Man is perfect, there are so many that might even end up better.

“Yeah, Ben is one of the best, especially for your sound,” she agrees, pausing for a second as she clicks what sounds like a pen and takes time to write something down. “We were thinking of sending you and a couple of our producers on a work getaway and maybe taking the time that you are there to write some songs and find your own dynamic with them, what do you think?”

“Of course, I’d love to!” I exclaim through the phone. Walking through the station to get to my soon departing train back home. Amazing, more studio work, more song writing - I have been dreaming of getting phone calls like this for years.

I have so many ideas in my head and written in my notebook just waiting to be explored with real professionals like Ben. I just prayed silently in my head that my quick praise of him would lead them sending him on the getaway along with whoever else they wanted to send with me - probably Joel or Vanna, the other two producers I had worked with in the time I’d been here. Joel’s sound was old school and he loved that classic drum in the background. Of course I didn’t hate it; he always made it sound gorgeous, but I loved the more earthy, tender sounds - songs that you could sit in the bath and vibe/pour your eyes out to. Vanna’s sound was cool, she worked a lot with the 1975, Dirty Hit’s biggest signing. Working with her was very fun, hearing about her stories with them and lots of other big musicians she has produced allowed me to have a little fangirl moment a couple times in the studio.

“Do you have an idea on which producers are coming along?” I continued.

“I’m just gonna give Ben a call and see when he’s available,” she replied. Yes! Thank god. “Thought I’d give you a call first before I called anyone else… but I know you haven’t met yet but Jamie thinks it would be a great opportunity to work with Matty aswell.”

“Matty… Healy, from the 1975?” I stutter. Surely not, I know he worked with Baebadoobee and a couple others on their latest work but surely he wouldn’t take the time to work with someone who’s just starting, would he? I wasn’t a huge 1975 fan, but I knew of their songs and Matty’s work and I admired them a lot. I’d kill to get to the level they are, but all in good time.

“Yeah, actually!” She laughed slightly through the phone. Woah. “He actually works a lot with our artists to establish their sound, you know what I mean? and he’s really talented, I promise. He was a part of our meeting today and he’s got a lot of good ideas that I think you’ll like, not to mention all the advice he can give you with starting out and he can talk you through his own experiences as well.”

“That’s amazing, I love his work!” I smile to myself, probably looking like an idiot in front of all these serious, fast walking Londoners. It seems so unbelievable that Matty Healy would take any time out of his busy schedule to work on my music, he must be bored. “If that’s something he is interested in, then I’d absolutely love to work together on something.”

“Okay, that’s perfect!” She replied. “No, he’s very interested, don’t worry. He went with Beabadoobee on a work getaway a few months ago, working on some new stuff and they made some gorgeous music - think he just wants the bragging rights again really. But, honestly he’s a star, you'll love him.”

As I was settling myself down on the busy train, Holly was writing down my best dates for the trip and ended the phone call pleasantly soon after. A Sunday to Wednesday a few weeks from now was the time they had written down for Matty’s availability and that worked with me! God knows where they were going to take us, but I couldn’t help but get excited. Me, Ben and sexy Matty Healy. I just hope he’s not a dick.

[floram-creative]

Drying TWST boys hair

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts,Ruggie Bucci, Floyd Leech,Trey Clover

GN! Reader

TWs: None

Written by: Bearam :)

Hello everybody! I just wanted to let you know that asks are open (and frankly needed aha)! We’re looking forward to making your ideas into a reality. Best wishes, Bearam <3

Riddle

You practically jumped your boyfriend when he came out of the shower and begged him to let you dry his hair. He really questioned it at first, going as far as to ask if you were alright. With your persistence you finally got your boyfriend to sit down so you can dry his hair.

Crouching next to Riddle, you rustled his head with the towel, which had just come out of the wash and was slightly warm. Riddle tolerated all of the rustling for about a minute or so before fending off the towel, a slight frown appearing on his face. “Why are you drying my hair so violently?!” Was all he could get out before the storm of rustles came back on again. Finally, after what felt like ten minutes, Riddle was freed. and he was not going to let you get away with what he had to sit through without some kind of backlash. He got up after you and chased you all around the house yelling, “Get over here!” as you ran away squealing.

When he finally caught you, he tackled you onto the couch, sitting right on top of you so you had no means of escape, and rustled your hair violently with his hands. “This isn’t how you dry peoples’ hair!” he laughed. He slowed the rustling, and massaged your scalp, “It’s something more like this.” His dainty fingers were careful not to put too much pressure on your scalp. “Can you keep going?” You asked softly. “No!” His hands pulled away, but you caught them before they got too far. “Please? I’ll dry your hair the right way after. I promise.” You pouted and waited for a response from your now flustered boyfriend. “F-fine” he muttered in response, allowing you to let go of his hands. He continues, slipping his hands through your hair. “Where’d you get so good at this?” You muttered. He smiled seeing the pleasure on your face, “I’m not sure, but I’m glad you like it”.

After some time, your boyfriend bent down to kiss you. “Now it's my turn.” He smiled, moving stray hairs away from your face. Now back in your original positions, with a brand new towel, you started again. “Much better!” He stated, grinning with approval. “I could get used to this,” he sighed, allowing himself to relax.

Ruggie

Ruggie ran when he saw you armed with a towel as he exited the bathroom. When he said that he had never dried his hair before, the urge to see your boyfriend’s hair somewhat neat had taken over every aspect of your life. You were determined to make it happen.

It took some time, but you eventually caught him. You dragged him to the couch, made him sit, and sat right on his lap, facing him, in efforts to minimize movement. “Please? Do we have to?” He whined, trying to get away. “Well, we can either do it now or I can bother you about it for the rest of your life~” you teased, holding the towel in your arms. He groaned, rolling his head back, “I hate how much I love you sometimes.” You laughed and twisted the towel around the back of his neck. Tugging on the towel, you pulled his head up to kiss him as you covered his head with the towel like a makeshift hoodie replying with a playful, “I love you too.” Gently, you hand-dried his hair as much as you can, trying not to rustle it too much so as to not make it messy. Then, your secret weapon, the hairdryer came into play. When the warm air blew onto his ears, they twitched slightly and you admittedly found it entertaining. Finally, when your boyfriend's hair was dry, you couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed. “Not bad but..” you paused to rustle his hair, making it sit in its usual messy way, “I like this much better.”

Ruggie sat there, speechless, until he tackled you. “Are you saying I sat through that for nothing?!” He attacked you with all the affection he could muster up, kissing your neck, even playfully biting your ears. “You're going to have to pay for that, you know.” he chuckled. “How do donuts sound?” You looked at him, teasing him with pleading eyes. “That sounds perfect.” He chuckled, now messing with your hair.

You spun around on his lap so that you could lean your head against his chest. “That’s it?” You questioned. He smiled mischievously. “For now.” He teased with his signature laugh. “Who knows what I’ll ask you to do?” You sighed in disappointment, not at Ruggie, but rather to yourself being as you got yourself into this situation. “Well then,” you stood up, dusting off your clothing, “Let’s start off by getting those donuts.” Yet, as you stepped away from the couch, a strong pull put you back into your boyfriend’s lap. “Before that,” he nuzzled his face into the rook of your neck, inhaling your scent, “Let’s stay like this for just a while longer.”

Floyd

Floyd genuinely found enjoyment in his hair being damp, but you found that it was quite annoying to have slightly wet areas of your shirt as your Boyfriend was very touchy.

As usual, Floyd ran out of the shower to meet your embrace, but this time it was different. You pursed your lips. “I love you so much, but please dry your hair first.” Floyd pouted, and was slightly annoyed with this but the more you explained to him, the more he seemed to understand. “Fine” he said and strode back towards the bathroom.

You expected him to dry off his hair and come back, but you were surprised when he came back with a towel. “Can you do it for me, Shrimpy?” You smiled at him, and replied “I’d love to.” He placed the towel on your lap, and placed his head right on top. This wasn’t exactly what you had imagined but you were willing to compromise being as he was doing it for you. You first tousled the sides, being extra cautious as to not pull his hair. The back of his head was where you had to ask your boyfriend for help. “Could you shake your head a couple of times?” He shook his head violently in your lap, which tickled. Your laughter only led him on until you had to beg for him to stop. He smiled as you finished drying the rest of his hair, kissing him on the nose to indicate you were finished. He threw the towel to the corner of the room, using this slight moment above your waist to kiss you as a thank you, and flopped back onto your lap, face down, hugging your waist. “I’m staying here as long as shrimpy will let me” he muttered into your lap.

You now found yourself trapped, and after a while, attempted to squirm away. But Floyd’s grip only got tighter the more you moved and today was not going to be the day you died from one of his infamous hugs. “Floyd~” you groaned, trying to get him to let go. “Where is shrimpy trying to go anyway?” He whined. “I have to go take my own bath!” You said kicking your feet in an attempt to get away. Floyd’s face immediately brightened. “I’m getting in too!” Playful banter of No! And Yes! continued until you were left laughing in sad defeat. “Fine…” you sighed. Floyd jumped for joy, scooped you up in his arms, and ran full speed to the bath. He slipped on the floor, and fell to the ground. The two of you paused before bursting out in laughter. Floyd was quick to recollect himself, laying on the floor smiling at you. “Race you to the bath Shrimpy!” He yelled, sprinting to the bathroom door. “Oh no you don’t, mister!”

Trey

When you suggested the idea, your boyfriend smiled warmly, fully embracing the idea of getting his hair dried. He grabbed himself a towel,and sat on the floor. You started slowly, massaging his scalp. “Thank you for doing this.” He sighed, visibly relaxing. You simply smiled. It was the least you could do being as Trey was always the one to pamper you. “I’m just returning the favor.” Trey then turned around, clearly questioning what you meant. “What favor?” He questioned, which really only brought you to laugh.

After gaining your composure once more, which took a bit longer than expected, you explained cheerfully, “Well you’re always doing things for me so I only think it's fair that I return the favor!” He smiled back softly, cupping your face, “Well, thank you this is really nice.” You couldn’t help but smile with delight. You continued to massage his scalp, working away at his hair thoroughly but with care. Trey started humming unexpectedly to your favorite song as you continued to work your hands through his hair to which you hummed along with happily.

Due to his hair already being quite short, the intimate moment between the two of you was short lived, but well needed. Thoroughly impressed, Trey used this moment to reward your kindness. “I’ll grant you a single wish whatever that may be.” He smiled kindly, helping you up from the floor. You leaped toward him when his words had fully processed in your head and he caught you in his arms. “Anything?” You teased, gazing up at his face. He chuckled and replied, “Anything.” You pondered for a moment, before finally deciding on something to do that day. “Then,” you waddled around in his arms for a moment, “Can we make pancakes together please?” He pet your head warmly, “Of course sweetheart.” He then knelt down in front of you, his back facing you, offering you a free piggy back ride. Of course, you took him up on the offer. “To the kitchen we go!” Trey exclaimed, speeding toward the kitchen, causing you to burst into joyful laughter echoing through the room.

[merakiui]

Ah Mera, Happy Birthday!  I’ve written you a short drabble as a gift.  I hope you’ve had a wonderful day.

***

When Riddle had shown up at the door of Ramshackle to deliver you (prompt) Birthday wishes, you’d been rather pleased to see him.  The adorable red-headed Queen of Heartslabyul personally visiting you to tender his regards, what could be better?  Then, when he’d flushed and said he had a special gift prepared for you, you’d been even happier.  It didn’t even matter what it was, it would be special to you because it was from him.  So, you simply smiled and held out your hand to receive the gift. 

Riddle frowns and looks at your outstretched hand before remarking, “It’s not that sort of gift.”  You shrug and allow your hand to drop, “Oh, alright then,” and then wait for whatever mystery present this is to be made clear.  When nothing is forthcoming from Riddle you tilt your head as though to ask, ‘So where is this gift?’  He turns his head, avoiding your gaze.  “Cater said this was a popular gift among people our age.”  Then he flushes to the tips of his ears and reaches into his pocket to withdraw something small.

You look at his closed hand and are somewhat underwhelmed when he opens his fingers revealing a tube of strawberry flavored ChapStick.  “Oh, that’s great,” you try to keep your voice even.  He stumbles, “It..it has sunscreen in it.  I researched the best one for contributing to healthy lips.”  You smile indulgently, “I’m sure you did.  I bet it’s a great kind.  I’ll be sure to apply it every day.”  Then he scowls, “That’s now how you’re supposed to use it.”  You allow a small expression of surprise to cross your face, “Ah, no?” 

Then he flushes even deeper as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes, too embarrassed to meet your eyes directly.  Finally, he gathers his courage and straightens to his utmost and calmly opens the tube of ChapStick and applies it to his own lips.  Then he tilts his chin in a haughty manner and looks at you coyly through his lashes.  “Well, are you going to take your gift or not?”  You look at the shine on his perfectly pouty lips and lean in with a smile.  ‘Happy Birthday to me,’ you think with a sly smile.

AAAAAAA OMG OMG OMG THIS IS A MASTERPIECE……. \(//∇//)\ OH, THIS IS A WONDERFUL DRABBLE!!!! Thank you so very much for your generous gift omg,,,,, I’m going to read it forever and always and I will treasure it wholeheartedly!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Riddle following Cater’s advice for birthday gifts uuuwaaaaa he’s so cute. >v< and then how he becomes confident and coy towards the end…….. (≧∀≦) even our beloved Queen has his sly moments!!!

Within no time, I’m sure he’ll ask the special question for the next birthday gift hehe!!!

[undiscovered-horizon]

Unwanted Guests: Diminuendo | Morpheus x Reader

[WARNING: description of torture, kidnapping, spoilers for 'Season of Mists']

{'Unwanted Guests' -> Dream's guests seem suspiciously interested in his wife.}

{'Unwanted Guests: Crescendo' -> The night takes a different turn when Azazel reveals mortifying leverage.}

SUMMARY: The responsibility for Hell is now in the Angels' hands but Dream's torment continues. Now that he can not give Azazel what he wants, Morpheus must find another way to get you back. The simplest plans, I hear, are usually the best.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.1k

From Old English, 'nightmare' is derived from the words 'night' and 'mare'. In German and Slavic mythology, a mare is an evil creature that sits on people's chests while they sleep, giving them terrifying dreams as well as suffocating them. Accentuating the importance of nighttime, one might argue that a nightmare is not, in fact, an abstract term for an unpleasant dream but rather a creature of darkness feeding off the sleeper's fear. Such an interpretation poses another fascinating question: where does the nightmare go when people are awake?

Dream stands in front of his guests empty-handed. Preying eyes stare at him in anticipation like vultures waiting for the deer to finally fall dead. He wonders whether they can tell just how disturbed he is.

"Even if I wanted to, I can not give you the key," he announces. A quiet murmur of confusion sparks among the guests. Did he find their offers underwhelming? "For I no longer have it."

A loud scoff of angered disbelief followed by Thor's groan. Someone is speaking in a raised voice but it's hard to decipher what they're saying, echo of the spacious hall muffling all words. Arms thrown in the air. Exchanged suspicious glances - Is there a thief among us?

"Then who does?!" emerges from the agitated crowd.

A flutter of wings. The distant, ethereal sound of harps and trumpets. A beam of bright, white light appears from nowhere. It blinds the gathered people, momentarily putting a stop to their brawls-to-be. Two broad silhouettes float above all heads.

"It is true that Dream of the Endless no longer has the key to Hell in his possession," one of the angels speaks. His voice is melodic, strangely calming as though its sound corresponds to something intrinsic to the particles of this world. Both of them have such delicate, beautiful faces, it's difficult to guess their gender. "We do. It is His Name's will that there must be a Hell. Now we will be its overseekers."

A divide among the guests. Some nod in defeat, while others seem to only grow more agitated. Whispered speculations begin to make rounds - Dream of the Endless surely could deny His Name. What was he really offered, then? Someone is elbowing through the crowd, much to the other guests' audible dismay.

Azazel stands before Morpheus. His countless fangs snarl and sneer at the host. There was one more issue to resolve. "This isn't what we agreed to, Ruler of Dreams," he spits. The seemingly immaculate plan had failed and demons, as it befits them, make quite sore losers.

Morpheus looks in Azazel's direction but not necessarily at him - through him appears to be more accurate. His arms look tense as he crossed them on his chest. "I had made no arrangement with you, Azazel."

The demon laughs inching towards Dream, taunting him. "You seem to forget that I still hold your dearest wife captive," he announces loudly. Out of the corner of his many eyes, Azazel glances at the guests, anticipating a reaction.

A salve of gasps. The crowd is whispering again. If Bast did not have fur, she'd surely be red by now. Her fists are clenched so tight, they begin to tremble. Even Thor appears somewhat sober and not as hungover as he was just moments ago. Less-than-inconspicuous fingers pointing between the arguing two.

"No, I haven't forgotten your transgression." Although speaking in a calm voice, Morpheus appears as anything but collected. His stern answer makes the whispering quiet down as the prying eyes yearn to follow the unforeseen confrontation. "Even if you did return her to me on your own, I am obliged to punish you. But not only do you refuse to end this indignity - you also seem to think I owe you something in return for someone you have no claim to take as your own. You have offended me in my own home, Azazel. And I'm angry."

"Oh, colour me frightened," the demon sneers. By all means, he's convinced of his undoubted advantage. "Whatever will you do, Lord of Dreams."

Morpheus doesn't answer right away. He's just standing there, vacant eyes appearing more disturbing than usual. "Exactly what it takes." The words come out almost in a whisper.

Darkness. Silence. Cold.

Azazel's plan could have been infallible had he accounted for one detail: he was at the heart of Dreaming, where the only law is its king's word. And the king, knowing every thought to be ever entertained, knows many of them.

Echo of slow footsteps. Something is approaching but it's so dark Azazel can't make out even an outline. He can't move.

"I've always known you're good for nothing, Azazel," a mellow yet cold voice resounds in the room.

Lucifer.

The blond locks emerge from the darkness like cockroaches crawling from underneath loose floorboards. "I'm sick of you," he spits out, his cheeks raised in contempt. "Always looking where you're not supposed to, speaking useless, foul lies. You disgust me, Azazel. Always have."

He can't answer. His mouths refuse to speak and his eyes can not look away from the fallen angel. Lucifer's pale hand raises as he reveals a red-hot cautery.

"You shall neither see nor speak until you learn."

In a swift movement, Lucifer rips out a handful of Azazel's teeth. The cautery inches towards one of the eyes, slowly burning it until the blunt end pierces the eyeball. This is only the beginning of eternity.

Morpheus examines the glass bottle with Azazel meticulously stuffed inside. Nothing on the outside reveals what torments are happening to the exclusive occupant of the vessel. The flask is humorously tiny in his hand. It could shatter under a stern glance or a severe gust of cold, winter wind. Carefully, he places it in his pocket, planning to stash it along with many trinkets he has gathered so far. Azazel's case could be put at the back of a metaphorical shelf - Dream has time, a lot of it, in fact. To make things relatively worse, he has a habit of dwelling on his hurts.

"Thank you for coming." He's saying that to his guests but his attention is undoubtedly placed elsewhere. The visitors awkwardly stare at each other, never disputing his hospitality. "Return to your homes."

Effortlessly, he picks up your unconscious body from the marble floor. Without another word, he disappears around the closest corner, marching as far from the unwanted visitors as he can (Have these corridors always been this long and twisted?). Despite having you returned safe and sound, Morpheus makes a silent promise not to let you out of his sight ever again - beginning from that very moment, as he gently lies you down on a bed. Sitting next to you, his eyes do not dare flicker away until you wake up.

____

A/N: Excellent news, you guys! My novel should be published around 31st August of THIS YEAR. Five months until I can officially say I have accomplished by biggest dream and I'm only 21.

[real-total-drama-takes]

Fans who don’t like Pahkitew deeply exaggerate how “bad” the cast is and are generally overdramatic about the how they feel about the season. Granted there is a good amount of missed potential with some characters and plots (i.e the twins and Scarlett) but the majority of the cast fills the role they have to perfectly well.

Topher’s lack of character interactions is upsetting but I wouldn’t trade his solo arc for it, which was fresh if nothing else and not something that could’ve been done as eloquently as it was with most other characters (he’s also much funnier than people give him credit for).

Ella is more beyond her label than people admit, given her plotline of trying to reconcile with Sugar, which simultaneously made her sympathetic and easy to root for and helped establish Sugar’s role as an antagonist.

Rhodney’s gimmick was actually decently funny, solely because of how melodramatic he’d get over every pseudo-break-up, and even if you don’t find it funny personally you have to admit that he wasn’t on the show for nearly long enough to have a strongly negative impact on the season.

Similarly, for how viscerally negative people act towards Beardo and Leonard, they didn’t really do enough to warrant the hate they receive. Leonard’s two episodes (four counting rr) don’t strongly focus on him enough to make him do anything significantly dislikable and Beardo has a singular episode to his name, which essentially nullifies how poor his concept is. He’s designed to be canon fodder and shouldn’t be held up to the same standard of other characters who the writers actually wanted to give depth.

Sky is somewhat generic of a protagonist, yes, but she was never as staggeringly boring as the designated female protagonist before her (at least in her final season, Zoey was neat if nothing else in roti). She actually has aspirations in having a desire to become an athlete, personal flaws in her competitive nature, and moral ambiguity with how she treated the situation with Dave and Keith, a lot of which are developments and depth even many gen 2 characters didn’t get the luxury of.

Amy and Sammy’s subplot could’ve been expanded on more for the better of the season, I’m not going to deny that. But it still led to sweet interactions between Jasmine and the latter and genuinely shocking elimination, something total drama didn’t have much of due to not trying as hard to nail in the “reality show” aspect since Action.

Sugar works perfectly as villain, even if her presence as one isn’t always felt. It’s clear that the writers didn’t want to take her nearly as seriously as antagonists prior, and it works in a season as inherently goofy as Pahkitew. She feels like an improved version of Scott, sort of like they mixed the best parts of him from both of his seasons and treated him like the dork he always has been instead of trying to make him seem constantly threatening. People tend to over exaggerate the gross-out aspect of her character too, especially since she only had one real episode where she felt like the “diet Owen” Pahkitew haters love to paint her as. Par the aforementioned episode, and she’s actually on the end of funnier characters in the franchise.

Scarlett, again, reeks of missed potential and I’m not going to dance around that. But, even if it was dumb to turn her into a comic book villain that was evil the entire time, her progression of slowly getting closer and closer to the edge because of Max still felt natural and was investing. You’re waiting for the moment Scarlett finally snap, and it’s genuinely tense. Again, the climax was still underwhelming, but the journey to said climax is better than people give it credit for.

Speaking of Max, I admit he isn’t one of the better characters in the franchise, but he isn’t absolutely terrible. He has the occasional funny moment and quotable line. He did overstay his welcome a bit, but it felt deserved if it meant professing Scarlett’s arc.

And finally, Dave is not nearly as irritating as people make him out to be. Sure, he was not enjoyable in the slightest during his elimination episode and the finale, but in every other episode he’s in, he works as a perfectly serviceable straight-man, and without him, the show wouldn’t have the bulk of it’s drama. His relationship with Sky not only fueled some of Sugar’s more antagonistic moments, but was the most developed and elaborate plotline in the entire season, having a good deal of the characters in the season have some sort of interaction with it. Sugar had her aforementioned villainous plans with it, Ella had a one sided crush on Dave that helped fuel Sky coming to terms with her feelings towards him, Leonard and Beardo’s batshit insanity drive Dave closer to Sky due to her just being more normal than them, Jasmine had her talk with Sky the episode after the team swap and Shawn was a mutual friend of both who helped Dave through Sky’s rejection. It’s not nearly the same scale as the World Tour love triangle, but that’s to be expected with a 13 episode season. It’s as good as a centerpiece for the drama as it could’ve been.

I don’t believe Pahkitew’s cast is inherently bastardized and the season definitely isn’t as bad as so many people in the fandom say it is. If it had the full 26 episode luxury, then it could’ve gone down as a borderline classic in the fandom to the same level of Island and World Tour. I don’t feel like it’s objectively nearly as good as either of those seasons are,

Also, to the people who criticize the tdpi cast with the argument of “these characters aren’t even teen stereotypes!” … yeah no shit? The contemporary teens that inspired the gen 1 and revenge cast aren’t going to be different enough form the teens at the time of Pahkitew’s creation, so the writers essentially had to change their character design philosophy or they’d spew out bits and pieces of what we had from seasons prior and struggle to find a way to make them relatable or stand out. I’d rather have them make the cast as campy as they did then ever have what are basically lesser versions of previous characters.

(Also I didn’t write a paragraph for Shawn or Jasmine cos people who don’t like Pahkitew rarely hate them in particular anyways lol)

.

[strangertheories]

Why did Henry Creel kidnap Will?

First Shadow Spoilers!

I haven't seen the show yet but I really hope this isn't true, like I know Vecna's a pretty petty villain (like spending years trying to take down an 8 year old cause she beat a man in his 40s at a fight) but kidnapping a child because his mom was a bit shouty to him one time seems just next level weird.

There were so many Will/Henry parallels in the play, imo. Henry Creel was a child who disappeared at a young age and came back "wrong" (+ a link to the supernatural). He was in love with someone but knew this would be frowned upon as it was an interracial relationship, similar to how Will was in love with Mike but knew the gay shame that came with that. When battling what is seemingly the Mind Flayer taking over and giving in to it, Henry is able to regain control with the help of the person he loves. I don't think I need to explain how Will relates to that.

The way Will was taken to the UD heavily implied Vecna was stalking him, not to mention how Will wasn't immediately eaten like the other victims. I like the idea that Vecna-ified Henry kidnapped Will because he reminded him of himself so thought he would be the best vessel to use to take the UD into Hawkins and end the society that rejected him. Maybe he thought Will would get powers, just like he did. Maybe he was trying to create more super powered children as he was unhappy with the way El turned out after previously being satisfied with her.

I understand the purpose of Will/Henry parallels could purely be for the purpose of showing Will has a supernatural link and/or powers. But I think their years-long link to each other ending in a reveal that Henry targeted Will because his mother called him out for murdering animals(/people) would just be underwhelming. That has nothing to do with Will.

I guess I could be somewhat satisfied with the idea that's why he initially took Will but after Will froze the Upside Down, he has much bigger plans in place for him which will culminate in a S5 battle where Henry explains their similarities and why Will should join the dark side with him. But it's just less compelling to me than the Henry inside of Vecna feeling some sort of kinship to Will.

Any thoughts?

[crystalelemental]

Sync Pair Retrospective - SC Rosa (and Naomi)

Technically, SC Rosa's initial debut was five days later, but since she's rerunning now, we may as well do this. SC Rosa followed up the third anniversary, which was a big deal for most, but not to me. Rosa was actually my prize of that month. And in the intervening time, how has she held up?

BAD, ACTUALLY

Look, I'll be the first to admit when my assessment of a pair doesn't play out functionally. SC Rosa was a fairly mediocre pick from the outset. Despite massive sync damage and DPS, and the coveted debuffs I love so well, Rosa's kit is very awkward. She struggles to reach full debuff, and despite the high base speed, has legitimate gauge issues as a four-bar spam. The biggest hiccup is just...what move to use. Debuff special attack/evasion for multipliers on all foes? Debuff special defense to boost damage that way? CS was a real struggle. And despite good debuffs, many AoE sure crits in Gauntlet are physical, so fights like Latias that she should conceptually dominate, she loses to really bad because Earthquake just obliterates her. She didn't really hold up to the standard of particularly excellent PokeFairs, and landed somewhere around okay.

Which is a damn shame for what came next.

Grass has always been fairly over-saturated as a type, and for a moment Rosa was top damage in that type. With the recent introduction of SS Lyra and Grassy Terrain, Rosa was a fairly strong candidate for its use, perfectly complementing Dire Hit All+, while Lyra's trainer move could top off Rosa's special attack. They're a particularly powerful combination. While Lyra remains dominant, however, Grass has...somewhat shifted focus, due to the new top meta performer: Adaman.

Physical grass is where it's at now. Adaman remains the best sync nuker in the game, and with his ascension, SS Acerola's value skyrocketed. PMUN stacking at lightning speed, and she provides Terrain and Sun? That's just ridiculous. Every physical Grass-type damage dealer, which is most of them as it turns out, went crazy under this. Mallow finally had a real set with SC Steven/SS Acerola. Brendan finally got his Mega. SC Sonia went from a fairly niche pick, to a pretty perfect partner to Adaman as a high-DPS pair that needed the gauge he didn't touch. And comparatively, Rosa...gained nothing.

At present, there are no good sync pairs to enable Rosa. SMUN stacking remains much harder than physical, due to the lack of anyone as consistent as SS Acerola, and now even Argenta mimics it in a more freeform sense, rather than relying on field effects. Evasion debuffing remains an exceptionally rare talent, and none who can perform it partner well with Rosa. While special defense debuffers exist, there's only one with special attack debuffs as well, and it's Bede, who compounds her gauge concerns and offers nothing else to the table.

Rosa has yet to get her due. Which...is fitting. OG Rosa is the first ever free sync pair, and it's taken four years for them to consider maybe giving her a free move level boost. Winter Rosa is pretty atrocious without 3/5, and even then only useful under Hail, with no indication that seasonal pairs will get grid expansions like PokeFairs and even general pools. Lodge Rosa sucks, and now SC Rosa feels...wildly underwhelming compared to others within her type, with fairly awkward multipliers and limited team support. She's not bad, but it does feel like, for all the alts Rosa has, DeNA doesn't really put their heart into it.

Naomi Hour You guys remember Naomi? Remember when they did these NPC trainer class free pairs? How great it was to have these random characters show up with names and a presence? Remember how they haven't added a single goddamn one since New Years? DeNA, listen, you've introduced a lot of shit this past year, and somehow the coolest one is the only thing you didn't keep up. Fix yourself.

Naomi came in as a sort of savior to Ground-type F2P. Your other options are Clay and Hapu, who are, to put it generously, completely useless. Hapu's arguably the worst pair in the game bar nothing. Terrible DPS, atrocious sync, no real utility. Clay at least has triple Endure approaches and can kinda tank a bit because of it for Gauntlet, but it's sure not pretty, and his damage is pretty poor. Naomi succeeded where no one else in this godforsaken type could. She was actually...a pretty good striker for Ground.

The trouble with Naomi was that, as a common, she was afflicted by the standard curses of poor stats and painful conditions. The stats aren't too bad. Offensive stats are pretty good, and she can buff speed, but multipliers are based on speed so it's...kinda required without very specific comps. The other issue was Sand. She required Sandstorm being up, and that is a notoriously poor weather condition to rely on. By this point, it's the worst one. Sun and Rain are dominant, and Hail made a huge comeback with Irida. Sandstorm doesn't really have anyone that compares. Ingo was a pretty hefty reliance. To make matters worse, her Ground Zone support was Courtney, who emphasizes physical, and Naomi is the only specially offensive Ground type. She is, quite literally, the only one Courtney doesn't get along with.

Time has not significantly changed Naomi. The reliance on Sandstorm but desire for Ground Zone has not made her life easier. She lives entirely on Ingo's good graces. While the new Variety Giovanni can be considered an alternative, compressing both Sandstorm and Zone into one, the mismatched offensive presence and gauge annihilation does little to help. Naomi's also fairly cursed by the awkward trainer moves. X Sp Atk separated from her crit/speed button is fairly painful, as any other combination on trainer move could've opened more options for partners. As it stands, few exist who salvage her.

That's not to say she has nothing, though. On an F2P budget, Ground Zone is a non-consideration if you can't draw Courtney, and Naomi has Acerola backing her instead. All she needs is a good support. And, to the surprise of many, she actually got some. Lodge Morty is a surprising winner, being able to boost crit and speed on his trainer move as well, and having X Sp Atk All separated out. With Acerola's flinch potential, they can sneak in some extra actions for buffing her up by first sync. Lodge Dawn is worth noting as well, thanks to Team Sharp Entry saving a turn, and access to both Spd/Sp Atk boosting.

But Naomi is still very much a free pair. She's tough to use, and incredibly frail. Even max defenses and minimized offenses won't always salvage her. But I do respect that she's intelligently minmaxed. The decision to drop all bulk in favor of sufficient firepower to be passable is a sound one, even if the AoE meta can be punishing. I just really wish we got more of these.

[humanoidtyphoons]

okay, i’ve mulled about my knb nitpicks, how to word them. think i’ve got it.

-i prolly rated s3 lower in part bc i initially found it underwhelming with how the show resolve kagakuro’s childhood friends that helped them with basketball?

for kagami, in general, i’m sorry i just didn’t find himuro all that likeable until the kuroko birthday episode tbh, and i wished you could have had glimpses of that sooner — in part, you can’t bc himuro has his inferiority complex with kagami, but. that leads to another issue.

i kinda wanted more with ogiwara originally? bc he turns up, and they have a phone conversation about him getting back into basketball so they’ll hopefully play against each other sincerely the next year (in a way that a was flat out impossible when it was with teikou). but i thought about while it rewatching and… ogiwara never really had the fallout like kagahimu did? his issues wasn’t with kuroko, exactly, but he wanted to play against a kuroko who enjoyed basketball—something that kuroko himself was trying to find, and would probably only get after he had succeeded in finding a way for the gom to enjoy playing basketball again too, which is something ogiwara also wanted! bc kuroko had confided in him and kept in touch with him during the teikou days, ogiwara knew how important his team meant to him. so for him to sit out the current&next year… it was fine. bc he was trying to motivate kuroko, somewhat, and kuroko found a way to succeed. and with that achieved, ogiwara can now look forward to playing against kuroko. so the conflict between them was different, and while i would have liked a smidge more of ogiwara, i don’t know if much more was actually needed?

-this is me being petty but i think i may have docked s3 for the eyecatches/team line up. i actually liked them at the midway point of the episode, but i was annoyed that it was only in s3 and not in s1&2. the fact it only happened in s3 made them grate a little even if they’re a cute idea but like… either have them in all seasons or not at all??? don’t introduce them in the last season!!!

-kagami’s side of the story is really weak. idk if it’s an adaptation choice or if it’s the case of the manga but… not an awful lot of time is spent that much with alex or himuro, so i care much less about them. but. alex, generally pretty gross, as a fan service object. i don’t know how old she is either but it doesn’t help. also himuro’s team only get one match so it’s harder to gauge growth tbh? but i enjoyed his interactions with takao, and i liked seeing kagami get on with himuro, so maybe had the flashback dragged their friendship out more, before himuro’s insecurity and bullshit promise happen, i could have rooted for it more. or shown more angst and conflict on kagami’s side, idk. but it was kinda glossed over for me.

-so yeah for me, s2 is both best (hanamiya & murasakibara) and worst (alex & himuro) season out of the three (momoi being used for fan service also not great btw)

-i think the anime would have benefited from spending a little more time not playing basketball and seeing them off court shenanigans tbh. i might have cared more for various characters (seirin & himuro) if that had been the case. you do get snippets often, but… it wasn’t enough beyond barely being serviceable. they’re cute and funny, but my investment levels are neutral tbh. like the moe couplets don’t mean much to me, bc it’s sometimes just feels as if the gom need a minder, and supposing that something similar to kurokaga is happening to the gom in their separate teams. imahana are my special guys, tho, since i got a penchant for nasty personalities and creeping people out, and the fact that these two have history, commenting on each other’s matches.

despite that. yeah, this show is a 10/10. why? bc kuroko succeeds in his goals. from the start to finish, it’s about kuroko trying to enjoy basketball again, and help his teikou teammates to enjoy basketball again. and he succeeds. and i fucking care about the gom!!! while i am ambivalent to seirin (sans kagami), i absolutely see how seirin is the team kuroko needed, so it works for kuroko, which in turn works for me. this whole thing was started by kuroko and ogiwara, even tho it’s peripheral, but it ended with them hoping to play next year, so it does feel full circle to me.

i love the gom & kagami friendships. i love the superhero sport matches. the soundtrack is awesome. i am consistently entertained.

so yeah, it was really worthwhile to rewatch and see how my feelings had changed or stayed the same.

[paint-tastes-ok]

just watched a playthrough of 999, twas entertaining! twist was well done on DS, i liked the characters, but the story... somewhat unsatisfying. obviously the whole game was written for That One Scene so the significance of everything else we learned throughout the story felt diminished by the end...? (terrible rambling and spoilers under the cut)

so... i follow the idea of akane getting revenge on the first nonary game's masterminds, that's standard for this type of story, but that the whole reason for her staging it in the first place is implied to be avoidance of a grandfather paradox...??? like, again, i'm a fan of That One Scene (incinerator in true ending); i think there was good emotion there and the reveal was satisfying as long as u don't think about it beyond that point whatsoever. it's just... assuring that everything stays as it does and the timeline goes according to plan feels like such... weak motivation?

It seems like no one besides Ace and his cronies were at risk of being blown up, so there was no danger from the nonary game itself to the Good Guys. however, it COULD have gone horribly wrong, as illustrated by the other endings, so would akane's decision to save herself really be worth it?* i guess we can assume Ace's pharmaceutical company would continue its shady practices, so it makes sense they'd need to be stopped... i would have liked that to be emphasized then—for the threat of not averting this paradox/killing Ace&friends to outweigh the alternative reality (in which akane stays dead and doesn't put other innocent people in danger). was that discussed and i missed it? also, in the end, Junpei didn't have much agency at all, did he? no risk to him, we're really playing as akane attempting to save herself, she knows junpei is essentially going through the motions, the revenge she gets on Ace&friends is out of junpei's control... Junpei DOES manage to reveal Ace's crime to the rest of the group and Ace is at their mercy... hrm

hrm. *hold on, i just realized that it's canon that this whole game is akane jumping back n forth between timelines to achieve the best ending LMAO. my criticisms don't stand up to that.** adult akane is perfectly fine bc kid akane was fighting for it. everything turned out alright and underwhelming bc the player was fighting for it. plot twist: this was a good game if i keep the 4th wall break in mind and would've been an even better game for me if i 1) played it myself 2) on the nintendo DS. bye have a good afternoon take care and fare well

**jk actually, Snake being abducted THEN LOCKED IN A COFFIN to avoid the threat Ace posed to him was a strange decision. i was gonna complain about the other Cradle Pharmaceuticals guy coincidentally taking the fall for Snake too but ig i can buy Akane seeing that happen in another route and deciding to save him..... SIGH. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T KNOW. this whole game depends heavily on the 4th wall break and i don't like that part about it i guess!!!! i don't know

[sequinsmile-x]

Adjustment

Emily can't stop crying after the birth of their son, and Aaron is just trying his best to make it better.

-x-

This is just pure, ridiculous, unadulterated family/domestic fluff. My brain has melted due to the heat, and this is what it came up with. Based off of this photo, and the following prompt I got from an anon for my birthday prompts:

“Not to be drastic, but I would jump off a cliff for you.”

Also, consider this a mini celebration for me hitting 400 followers. Actual celebration fic to follow soon. I love you all very much, and I am constantly blown away by the fact this many of you care enough about my work to follow me. Forever thankful!! <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: non-descriptive mentions of pregnancy/birth, very hormonal postpartum Emily. Very descriptive mentions of Aaron's arms.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut!

“He’s so small.” 

Aaron looks up from zipping up the duffel bag on his wife's hospital bed, the last of her and their newborn’s things packed away so he could take them home. He smiles at the sight of them together, their son tiny in her arms, her eyes fixed on him. He sits on the edge of the bed and places his hand on Emily’s thigh, smiling when their eyes briefly meet before she looks back down at the infant.

“He’s smaller than Mia was,” Aaron says, thinking of their little girl at home, the almost 3-year-old eagerly looking forward to seeing her mother, her reaction to her little brother somewhat underwhelming, “and I didn’t think that was possible.” 

He looks up from his son to his wife when he hears her sniffle, and isn’t surprised when he sees unshed tears in her eyes, something that had been present almost permanently since the baby had been born. Noah came 5 weeks early, a drawn-out labour in comparison to his sisters, an emergency c-section that had led to him and Emily staying in hospital for a few days. 

She was emotional when Mia was born, but this was different. She cried at almost anything, something the doctors assured them was perfectly normal but that didn’t stop Emily from being frustrated at herself, her anger and her tears an almost constant cycle since Noah’s birth three days prior. 

“Damn it,” Emily says, shifting one hand from under the baby in her arms to wipe at her cheeks, she sniffs again, her lower lip trembling, “I think I’ve cried more in the last few days than I have my entire life.” 

Aaron smiles at her and stands up, kissing her forehead before he gently takes Noah from her arms. He smiles down at his son and kisses his head before he turns to lower him into the car seat, the baby already half asleep. 

“There you go, buddy, you excited to go home?” He asks, checking the straps securing his son into the seat. “Your brother and sister are excited to see you.” 

That, Aaron knew, was half true. Jack was very excited to be a big brother again, a role he took very seriously. Mia, on the other hand, was definitely jealous. It was something that had started to become evident during Emily’s last trimester, the little girl suddenly incredibly clingy with her mother, her somewhat limited understanding of the big change about to come into their lives settling in. When Jessica had brought Jack and Mia to the hospital the day Noah was born she’d shown very little interest in her baby brother, simply laying up against Emily instead, snuggling into her mother’s arms. 

Last night she’d asked Aaron when they were taking Noah back to where they’d got him from. He hadn’t told Emily yet, worried that the very normal sibling jealousy would upset her, deciding it was something he’d tell her when her hormones had settled down a bit more, and were no longer wreaking havoc on her usual ability to control her emotions. 

He lifts the car seat gently, keen to ensure Noah stays asleep, and looks at Emily, sighing softly when he sees the tears on her cheeks again. 

“Sweetheart,” he says gently, “what’s wrong?” 

“You’re such a good dad.” She replies, wiping at her cheeks furiously. 

It was going to be a long few days.

___

Emily considers it a win when she only cries once on the 20 minute car journey from the hospital to their house, the sight of Noah fast asleep in his car seat making her heart twist in her chest. He was so small, impossibly tiny in the newborn sizes onesie Penelope had bought him. The material almost engulfed him, loose around his tiny frame, the tiny bears printed onto it almost mocking Emily as she needlessly rearranged the straps holding her son in place. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever loved Aaron more when he doesn’t say anything about it, his obvious concern limited to his frequent checks on her through the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face whenever he caught sight of her looking at their little boy. 

She’s just about able to keep it together when they get into the house. She feels nothing but relief at the usual sense of comfort settling over her like a warm blanket as she walks through the doors, glad to be home for the first time since she went into early labour. 

“Momma!” 

Emily can’t help but smile at the sight of her daughter running towards her, Jack and Jessica several paces behind her. 

“Hi, sweet girl!” Emily says, grunting slightly when Mia hits her legs at full force, the jolt to her abdomen, pain from her c-section incision briefly pulsing throughout her body. 

“Mia, we talked about this,” Aaron says from behind her, closing the door with one hand, Noah still fast asleep in his car seat in the other, “be careful with Mommy, ok?” 

Emily spots the slight frown on the little girl's face, so much like Aaron when she was upset, and she puts her hand on her daughter's head, internally cursing herself when the feel of her soft hair is enough to make tears press at the back of her eyes. 

She was losing her mind, she was sure of it. 

She looks over her shoulder and at her husband, shaking her head slightly, letting him know he’d deal with it. Jack and Jessica both greet her as they go past, immediately going over to say hi to Noah again, like they both hadn’t held him in the hospital every day since he was born. 

“Don’t worry baby,” Emily says, looking down at Mia, “why don’t we go sit on the couch, huh? We can snuggle there.” 

Mia smiles at her and nods, grabbing her hand and gently tugging her towards the couch. Emily sits down carefully, hyper-aware of the pain in her belly. Mia is next to her immediately, already cuddling into her side. 

“Missed you, Momma.” She says, burrowing herself into Emily as if it had been weeks since she’d seen her, not the matter of hours it had actually been since her visit to the hospital yesterday. 

Emily feels her throat clog up, the emotion that had been overpowering her for days choking her. She leans down and kisses the top of her daughter's head. “I missed you too, so much.”

The others join them in the living room, Jessica having clearly left. Noah was now contently laying in Jack’s arms, the preteen looking ecstatic to hold his baby brother. Aaron sits next to Emily and puts his arm around her, his lips pressed into her temple.

“How are my girls doing?” 

She knew she’d never be able to explain it, why his innocent question immediately makes the tears she’d been attempting to hold back finally fall, but it does. She groans and wipes at her cheeks again.

“We’re fine,” she replies, her shaky voice contradicting her words, “aren’t we Mia?” She looks down at the toddler and the concern she sees in her daughter’s eyes and it makes her chest hurt, adding to the familiar ache in her breasts, a sure sign Noah would need feeding soon.

“Momma sad?” She asks, her tiny hand reaching out for her cheek, the press of her warm skin against her own, combined with the crinkle in her brow that makes her look exactly like Aaron, is enough to tip Emily over the edge.

Her tears immediately turn into sobs, and she turns so her face is turned into Aaron’s shoulder, barely catching the look of shock on her daughter’s face, and the concern on Jack’s. 

“Mommy is fine,” Aaron says, running his hand up and down her arm, “she’s tired after having Noah, that’s all.” 

Emily’s about to interrupt him, to say that she’s sure this is just who she is now. Cursed to cry forever, or until she died of dehydration, when a squalling cry comes from Noah, and she looks up, sniffing and wiping at her face as she does so, to see a concerned look on Jack’s face.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.” He says, looking down at the infant in horror. 

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Aaron says, standing up, raising an eyebrow at Emily when she tries to, and he eases his youngest out of his eldest’s arms, “he’s probably just hungry.” 

Emily is grateful when she has her son back in her arms, her frayed emotions feeling the tiniest bit placated by it, gently shushing him as he cries, readjusting her clothing so she can start to feed him.

“You’re ok, sweet boy,” she says as she smiles down at him. She feels Mia’s tiny hands grasp onto her shirt, pulling herself up to stand on the couch, her head peering over Emily’s shoulder to look at her brother. Emily meets her daughter’s eyes, “you excited that your brother’s home?” 

Mia scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, “my momma.”

Emily feels Mia’s grip tighten on her, one of her fists shifting into her hair, grasping at it like she hadn’t since she was a baby. 

“I’m his mommy too,” she says, desperately trying to remember what all the books she’d read about parenting had said about jealousy, the memory lost somewhere amongst the exhaustion of having a newborn and the pain of having major surgery, “I love you both, and Jack, very much.” 

Mia looks like she’s considering it before she looks past Emily to Aaron. “We take him back now?” 

___

“She hates him.” 

Aaron stops his pacing to look at her, Noah in his arms, freshly changed and fed, ready to sleep in the bassinet in their room for the first time. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft, understanding in the way he reserved for her and their children, “she’s 2. She doesn’t hate him, she’s just adjusting.” 

“She kept saying she wants to take him back,” Emily exclaims, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. 

“Em, love, it’s completely normal. You’re her favourite person in the world, she’s just going to have to get used to sharing you with someone else.” 

She knows he’s right, that everything he’s saying makes sense, but she’s just so tired. Every part of her sore in a way she’d forgotten about since having Mia, nature's way of tricking you into having more children. 

She looks up at him and is taken aback by the sight of him. His sleeves rolled up, Noah held securely against him, the size of Aaron’s watch in comparison to their son almost ridiculous. Noah’s dark eyes were open, Aaron’s attempts to get him to sleep failing so far, his fist tight around the material of his father’s shirt. 

It was enough to make her start crying again. Primal love for the two of them, for their whole family, making her so happy there is no option for it to spill out of her, the now familiar tears flowing down her cheeks.

“You have got to stop.” She says, more annoyance in her voice than she intended, clearly startling Aaron, his brows furrowing as he tilts his head up at her.

“Em-”

“You’re just…I don’t,” she doesn’t know how to put it into words, wiping at her cheeks again, sure that her skin was going to go raw from it, “look at you.” She finally exclaims, waving her hand in his general direction. “He’s just so small, and you look so good holding him,” she sniffs, her voice cracking, “and you’re such a good dad, and a great husband and you have got to stop.” 

“You want me to…stop being a good husband and dad?”

“No.” She says, sighing. “Of course not. I…” she drifts off, growling in frustration at herself, “I want to stop crying. It’s driving me crazy.” 

He does his best to suppress his smile, she’ll give him that, and he walks over, sitting next to her, adjusting their son so he was against his shoulder. She reaches out and offers Noah her finger, smiling when he grasps her, his little fist tight. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, and she looks at him, finding nothing but love and adoration for her in his eyes, “you’ve got to be easier on yourself. You had a baby 3 days ago. Earlier than you should have, and you had major surgery.” He uses the hand not securing their newborn to his chest, his palm almost covering the entirety of his back, to wipe a tear from under her eye. “And you’re still being a fantastic mother to our other children. You’re doing great.” 

She smiles at him, aware of how it trembles, and she nods. “Thank you, you’re the best.” She leans in and kisses him, stamping her lips against his twice in quick succession. “I love you very much.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, smiling at her as he pulls back. “Not to be drastic, but I would jump off a cliff for you.” He says, smiling at her so both dimples are on show, his eyebrow raised to let her know he’s trying to make her smile. 

It usually worked, something he learnt early on in their relationship. That she’d scrunch her nose up and fight a smile when he said something cliche, her cheeks warm as she pretended she hated it. But she stares at him as she feels the now familiar wave of emotion wash over her, her throat tightening with it. A sob escapes her and she covers her mouth in a pointless attempt to muffle it. 

“For fucks sake, Aaron,” she exclaims, watching as his face falls, the smile slipping away, “I only just stopped crying.” 

-x-

Tag list:

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[keysmashingfantasies]

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N:  i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad). 

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie! 

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

-

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn��t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and  it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

-

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”.  After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

-

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

 ‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

-

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

[rubysunnday]

Favourite brother - Part 2

A/N: well, part one went down surprisingly well! 

“So, Daphne is now a duchess...”

Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly at her brother, waiting for him to finish his comment. She looked back down at her embroidery and poked the needle through the fabric. “And?”

Colin leant forward in his chair. “Perhaps, now, the ton will be watching you.”

Y/N let out a unladylike snort. “Oh, please. As long as Miss Thompson is around and as long as Daphne and Simon are in their ‘newlywed’ bliss, I will always be the wallflower of the family.”

Colin eyed his sister with a sad gaze. He didn’t miss the way she stabbed her needle through the fabric a little harder than necessary nor the way she practically glowered at Anthony (probably hoping he would spontaneously combust). 

“Colin, I can feel you staring at me,” Y/N said, looking up from her embroidery to give her brother a level stare. “What is it?” “You truly don’t believe you are worth anything, do you?”

Y/N paused, needle halfway through the fabric. She slowly pushed it through, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes.

Colin was right. She didn’t see herself as worthy of anything. Compared to Daphne who’d captured the eye of the ton and then a duke and a prince, she’d had nothing. Her three older brothers had always been swarmed with suitors and Y/N had truly believed that, maybe, one day, it would’ve been like that for her.

But apart from an almost marriage to Nigel Berbrooke that was out of spite to her brother and sister and was unwanted by her, she had had no proposals and no suitors.

A fact she wanted to blame Anthony for but that Y/N knew was down to nothing more than bad luck. 

If she’d made her debut a year later it would’ve been the same story. Everyone would’ve been captivated by Eloise and she would’ve been forgotten. Or everyone would’ve been terrified of Eloise and been forced to look at Y/N.

Either or.

When you were a twin of someone who excelled in everything you didn’t, it was easy to be overlooked and forgotten - especially in a family of nine. 

But up until she and Daphne came of age, she hadn’t felt overlooked. She’d felt loved and seen as an equal to her brothers. Anthony hadn’t been so protective (He'd always been protective of them all. But compared to how Benedict was when someone upset or threatened his family, Anthony was a saint.). 

Everyone fawned over Daphne when she began courting Simon - and rightfully so. But Y/N’s prospects and potential suitors had become nothing more than polite conversation between her and her ladies maid. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N inhaled sharply and jumped slightly at Colin’s voice. She looked over at him and gave him a somewhat unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. I just feel somewhat underwhelming compared to my sister,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her embroidery. 

Which was beginning to look less and less like a violet and more like an oddly shaped duck. 

Colin, sensing his sister wasn’t in the mood to be proved wrong, left the conversation there. He also didn’t want to end up with a sewing needle in his eye - the chances of which were becoming increasingly likely the more he poked and prodded. 

It was a beautiful ballroom.

There were candles in every window and garlands of flowers draped across the walls with petals dashed across the floor. 

The garden was a lit with numerous furnaces and torches that blazed in the summer night and the fountain set in the centre of the sprawling, immaculate hedges and flowers trickled away.

None of the beauty, however, was making Y/N feel any better about being left out of yet another ball.

She’d been standing on the sidelines watching ever since she’d arrived. Benedict had offered to dance with her but Y/N hadn’t wanted to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown for dancing with no one but her own brothers so had declined the invitation.

Instead she chose to stand and watch the beautiful couples dance around the room as she sulked and drank yet another glass of lemonade. 

“Why are you skulking back here?” Anthony asked, approaching his sister with a confused, concerned and curious expression.

Y/N swallowed the rather large gulp of lemonade she’d taken and tried not to give her brother a glare. “No one’s asked me to dance.”

“I’m sure Colin -”

“That is not the point, Anthony!” Y/N exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve had no one to dance with apart from my brother’s and Simon, who is now my brother too!” She almost growled but remembered that half the ton were around and forced herself to calm down. “Daphne has been the centre of everyone’s attention and had the suitors falling at het feet. I thought that now she’s married, they’d look to me - but apparently no one settles for second best.” 

Anthony stared at his sister. “Y/N, you’re not second best to anyone.”

Y/N scoffed. She set her empty lemonade glass down, slightly worried she was going to through it at her brother’s head. “Then why haven’t you looked at me twice all season, Anthony? You walked off at my very first ball, leaving me to flounder. You never escorted me - not even tonight! You have, so far, not cared about who comes calling for me - which was no one, by the way - and you don’t care that I have had no suitors, no callers and no proposals!”

She was breathing fast and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was angry. She was so angry and even though most of the anger was at the ton for being so vain, she couldn’t very well direct it at a ballroom full of people.

Instead she directed it at her older brother, the one who should’ve looked out for her and guided her through her first season in society but didn’t.

Anthony, for once, had the decency to look hurt by his sister’s accusations. He had a broken look on his face as he realised she was right and that he’d ignored  her. He was stunned into silence.

But Y/N hadn’t want pitiful silence, she’d wanted an argument - for Anthony to get angry at her and prove her wrong but also right.

“Say something!” Y/N snapped, glaring at Anthony. 

 Benedict and Colin had noticed the, somewhat heated argument, and were trying to weave their way through the crowd to intervene before one of them snapped and punched the other.

Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. He was speechless - a rare feat, indeed.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the door to the garden. 

Benedict and Colin made it to Anthony’s side and frowned.

“What was that all about?” Benedict asked, looking at Anthony expectantly. 

Anthony swallowed and forced himself to look at his brother. “She hates me.”

Colin, who had sensed the argument was coming, put a hand on Anthony’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s angry at the world and the expectations society place on her shoulders. All she really wants, Anthony, is you.”

“I’ve ignored her almost this entire season,” Anthony said, staring at Colin. “How...”

“There’s still a few weeks left of the season, though,” Colin reminded him. He gestured to the door that Y/N had fled through. “Go on.”

Anthony didn’t need anymore encouragement, he brushed past his brother’s and all but marched through the crowd towards the door. 

Y/N had disappeared out onto the fire lit terrace of the house and was leaning on the stone bannister, trying to calm down. 

She loved her brother. Truly, she did. She also knew that he would never do anything to ruin her prospects intentionally.

That didn’t, however, stop her from wanting to throttle him. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel Anthony watching her and heard his footsteps approaching closer as he walked up to her. 

“Are you alright?” 

There was concern - genuine concern - in his voice. Y/N was usually good at keeping her emotions together and not breaking down until she was either with her mother or on her own.

But all it took was Anthony’s concerned question and a gentle hand on her shoulder for her to lose any control she’d had.

Y/N felt the tears drip down her face and turned to Anthony, practically throwing her arms around him and clinging on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. 

Slightly surprised by her sudden change in emotion, it took Anthony a moment to catch-up with the fact his sister was sobbing in to his arms and needed, not Lord Bridgerton, but her big brother. 

Anthony wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, waiting for her to speak.

Y/N eventually managed to get control of her emotions again and she stepped away from Anthony, wiping her eyes as delicately as she could to avoid ruining her make-up.

“Sorry.”

“Never apologise for being human,” Anthony said softly, sitting next to her on a bench. 

Y/N sighed. “I’m just... compared to Daphne I am nothing. No one has even looked twice at me this entire season. I’m her sister and nothing more.”

Anthony put a hand on her knee. “Do you truly believe that?” He asked, looking her in the eye.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. All I wish is for someone, anyone, to look at me and call on me because they like me. Not because they wanted an easy way to my sister or to you or to Eloise or to anyone who isn’t me!” 

“Y/N, you are a wonderful young lady and if those men can’t see it -”

“Then they’re not worth my time, I know,” she said, shooting Anthony an amused smile. “You sound like Benedict.”

“I believe you meant that Benedict sounds like me, he did come second after all,” Anthony quipped.

Y/N smacked her brother on the arm. She shook her head with a smiles she tried not to laugh. 

“Come on,” Anthony said, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bridgerton?”

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.” 

“Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton?” Y/N turned around. A young man, Lord Durrell if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of her looking slightly anxious.

“Yes, Lord Durrell?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows in his trademark brooding, older brother way.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance this evening?” Durrell asked, looking directly at Y/N.

Y/N smiled and held out the arm that her dance card was on. “Of course, Lord Durrell. After I’ve dance with my brother, of course.”

Lord Durrell smiled and wrote his name on her card. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing down.

Y/N curtsied slightly in response and watched as he left. She waited a few seconds and then squealed and jumped up and down. 

Anthony chuckled, stepping back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb. “See, I told you.”

“No, you didn't, actually,” Y/N said, taking her brother’s arm. “You just repeated what Benedict said and gave me a hug.”

“Which is just as important.”

“Naturally.”

Anthony led Y/N to the dance floor and the two took up their positions. 

“I don’t say this often enough,” Y/N said as they danced around the room, “but I’m so glad you’re my brother, Anthony.”

Anthony managed to concel his surprise by twirling Y/N around and using the brief moment she wasn’t looking to show his surprise before hiding it again. 

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life,” she continued, oblivious. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Anthony nodded and smiled, twirling her around again. 

Later on, however, when he was in his own lodgings away from prying eyes, Anthony looked back on the moment and had to hide his tears in a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of paperwork he had to fulfil. 

[ninebluehearts]

Hello again, Hannah! I'm here to bring inspiration to you! I maigine Blue Jones in some type of Haunted Mansion vibes because we all know this man is a creep on creeps! I envision the reader wearing dress from Eiko Ishoka (think of Mirror Mirror or Dracula). Blue Jones is a man of mystery, no? Phantom of the Opera meets Haunted Mansion! The possibilities are endless!

Hi Giona! Thank you for the inspiration! 💕 This is giving Dark Romance and I am here for it 🙌

When your friends told you about the party Mr. Jones was holding at his mansion, you didn't know if you should go or not. Sure, the little voice in the back of your head was trying its best to scream at you that this was NOT a good idea, but the bigger voice inside was already piecing together outfits from your closet.

In the end, you made a last minute decision to go. You picked out your finest dress- an emerald green gown with what seemed like a million layers of lace and ruffles, topped with an elegant row of ivory feathers around the neckline. Your favorite part was the golden embroidered flowers that danced along the bottom half of the dress, and at the edge of its widened sleeves.

You wore your hair up in an elegant bun, a few wild curls laid along the back of your neck and next to your ears. Considering the length of the dress, you decided to wear a pair of simple black heels, knowing they would be the most forgiving on your feet after what you knew would be a long night.

When you arrived to the mansion you felt somewhat underwhelmed. Sure, it was a beautiful building with an even better property, but the fact that it wasn't taken care of properly made it unattractive. The garden was filled with weeds, vines climbed high along the walls of the building, and there seemed to be this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach when you looked at the building that you couldn't quite describe.

Though, your disappointment came to an end when you saw the buildings interior. The walls were just the right shade of off white, which pared well with it's mahogany floors. And just like your dress, the ceiling was decorated with detailed golden flowers, all meeting together to form one big flower in the center. Your mouth was agape with wonder as you studied the gorgeous details of the home.

While you were distracted, you didn't notice the pair of eyes that were studying you. In the mix of the large crowd of company, Mr. Blue Jones couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Though he was supposed to be discussing business with a couple of his partners, the matter didn't seem important anymore. After he rudely interrupted their conversation with a muttered, 'Excuse me,' he made his way over to you.

You were pulled from your state of wonder with the feeling of chills on your neck, a harsh wave that didn't seem to go away. You rubbed the back of your neck attempting to soothe them, when you heard him. "Excuse me Miss. I don't believe we've met." And when you turned to see the owner of the voice, you could only assume that it was Mr. Jones. This man commanded too much power to not be the host.

You gave him your name and he mumbled it back to himself with a grin, almost like he was piecing together a puzzle and he found the last piece. "And I assume you're Mr. Jones?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Smart girl." He mumbled. Then he held out his arm, gesturing for you to take it. And going against that feeling in your gut again, you hooked your arm around his. He proceeded to lead you around the room, slowly making his way outside while droning on and on about the history of the building. Which you would have loved if it we're for the fact that this guy gave you every red flag in the book.

But when he sat you down on a bench in his unremarkable garden, you noticed the way the moonlight danced across his pale skin, making him impossibly lighter. The way his eyes couldn't focus on just one thing for too long, or the way his hair would fall back onto his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it back with his hand.

While he honestly gave you the creeps, there was something desirable about him. Almost like he was drawing you in so he could capture you. A Venus Flytrap came to mind as a comparison. Though, you didn't know if it would be such a bad thing if he did..

"Ah, look at me rambling.. Maybe we should head back inside?" Mr. Jones mumbled, noticing how you weren't even paying attention to him anymore.

Only God knows why you decided to lean in closer to him, ignoring his question as you pressed your lips against his. You were absolutely terrified, and when he kissed you back, you knew you were in for it. But what, you didn't know.

[tic---tac---toe]

Riddles and Puzzles

Part 2: What am I?

Part 1: The Stalker Tic Tac Toe

Summary: Summary: Marie Belle Sinclair (Jones) is Riddler’s first target. To his surprise, Marie had completely abandoned her last name. Her goal to live a normal life was somewhat completed. The Riddler keeps an eye on her, but he’s hesitant on revealing himself. He decides to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for her, starting with the note on her bedside. And, as it might turn out, she already knows him. Word Count: 2,821 [ A/N: yeah i know it's long. ]

His infatuation for her developed one evening out of the blue. Marie was riding the train home one night, absentmindedly listening to music through her headphones. Her eyes gently closed, as the rocking of the train ride lulled her to sleep. She didn’t see it, but Edward was sitting right beside her. Her hair was messy, and most of her head was covered by a black beanie. Her hands were stuffed in her hoodie while holding her phone close.

He only had a glimpse of half her face. Most of her face was covered by a black and white mask. It was darker than the rest of her face. It was scarred completely. Her eyes looked glossy, as she continued to stare forward. He felt bad about staring, so Edward looked away from her. He flinched when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Marie’s head fell perfectly on his shoulder. She didn’t even know him, yet he couldn’t help but feel his heart racing. He looked at her shyly. While he was extremely giddy on the inside, he was slowly beginning to panic and overthink the situation. This was something he’d imagine a partner doing, but this stranger was already comfortable enough to lay their head on his shoulder. 

Once the subway came to a stop, Marie slowly opened her eyes to see Edward staring at her with great intensity. She chuckled to herself. “I’m sorry, heh.” She whispered, softly.  Marie stood up in the terminal, heading out of the subway car. Edward’s cheeks flushed red, and her face wasn’t easy to forget. He looked at her phone before she stepped off the subway. His small idealized version of her began to expand. He wanted to get close to her, and the best thing he thought of was going online to contact her. He started making several different attempts to contact her. All his usernames were variations of riddles and puzzles. 

Marie had gotten several different cryptic messages from him, and she had gotten the feeling all messages were from the same person. She decided to contact one of his many usernames until she had gotten a response from him.

T1c_tac_t0e: why do you keep messaging me?

R1ddl3r: why do you keep ignoring my messages?

Marie had annoyed him by not answering any of his riddles. While this amused her a little, she decided that she would play along with this person’s shenanigans.

T1c_tac_t0e: alright fine, but I’ll answer only one

R1ddl3r: I am the beginning of the end and the end of time and space. 

R1ddl3r: I am essential to creation, and I surround every place.

R1ddl3r: What am I?

Marie took a second to write down the words ‘end’, ‘time’, ‘space’,  ‘creation’, and ‘place’. After examining each word, Marie figured the answer out fairly quickly. 

T1c_tac_t0e: is it the letter e?

R1ddl3r: what?

T1c_tac_t0e: isn’t that the answer?

R1ddl3r: yeah, how’d you get it?

T1c_tac_t0e: the first line kinda gives it away

It surprised him that she was able to guess the answer, but he must’ve used quite an underwhelming riddle. He wanted to test her. Edward knew what he was looking for.

R1ddl3r: do you think you could try another?

T1c_tac_t0e: depends, i’m pretty terrible at things like this

R1ddl3r: i don’t believe that one bit. you’re a terrible liar.

Marie scoffed to herself. It was like she was caught in a chess match. She needed to think a little harder for the next riddle.

R1ddl3r: i want to use one of my own. 

T1c_tac_t0e: i mean, sure, go ahead.

Marie was hesitant to say the least. Most anonymous guys online take a completely innocent conversation and turn it sexual. This new riddle might be an innuendo. She needed to be a little more perceptive as he began to type. It took a long time for him to type out the whole riddle. Marie was patient and waited for the screen to light up again, with his message.

R1ddl3r: ok, try out this one

R1ddl3r: I am always around but unseen. I am often avoided but never outrun. 

R1ddl3r: I could find you at the end of the road or even the next corner

R1ddl3r: What am I?

Marie slowly processed the question. ‘Always around, but left unseen’, she scribbled down onto a sheet of paper. She tried rationalizing the context clues in the text. While she was working, Edward seemed thoroughly convinced that she wouldn’t be able to solve it. After fifteen minutes, Edward began teasing her.

R1ddl3r: lol are you stumped?

R1ddl3r: do you want a hint?

R1ddl3r: if you give up now, i’ll tell you the answer.

T1c_tac_t0e: hold on, einstein. not everyone is as quick and clever as you

Edward chuckled softly at her comment. He might’ve even felt his face warm up. She only knew him through a screen, and he enjoyed that. He enjoyed her texts, but he wanted to get closer to her. He wanted to feel her skin. He wanted to be as close to her as she was on the subway. How the two sides of her face were perfectly uneven. From her coarse scars to her black nail polish, Edward was head over heels.

After thirty minutes, Marie finally came up with an answer she was comfortable with. She was hesitant. ‘It’s a shadow? No, that can’t be it.’ She thought to herself. ‘Would it be too weird if I put that in?’ She turned to her niece’s puzzle collection for more clues, but that wouldn’t do anything useful.

T1c_tac_t0e: is it your shadow?

R1ddl3r: shadow? what makes you think that?

T1c_tac_t0e: you can’t outrun your shadow. And, at the end of the road, there’s always a shadow. 

T1c_tac_t0e: behind every corner, it’s there

R1ddl3r: ah, but you see a shadow is a visible thing, darling

R1ddl3r: I’m afraid you got that one wrong.

Marie felt a spike of anxiety as she looked around in her cold dark room. She was frustrated and confused. Edward’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. This answer only sparked more interest. He was breathing heavily in his mask. He had been watching her this whole time, from a small hole inside her closet. He couldn’t even remember how he got there. Edward held a strong compulsion to confront her. He felt giddy watching her rationalize the problem to herself, and it was still the wrong answer. This was different from his previous intentions. This love he had developed had only gotten stronger. One couldn’t call what he felt was love. This obsession grew acidic. His intentions got darker.

Marie, frustrated, logged off the computer, deciding to take a break from the complicated and convoluted riddle. She laid down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. In the corner of the room, a spider was slowly making its web, when Marie started staring at it. She stared at it intensely. It started to crawl on the ceiling, getting closer to her bed. She flinched, putting on some slippers and a robe. She wanted to find a cup to capture it, and possibly set it outside. 

It was 1:30 in the morning. Marie’s sister, Isabella, was getting back from work. Marie didn’t keep the house to herself. Because Reginald was a pompous asshole, he would’ve never let Isabella stay with him for over a night. It was because Isabella’s mother was still alive. Isabella’s mother, Delores, never married Reginald no matter how much he begged. It makes sense, considering he didn’t have that good of a reputation. He cut all contact between her and Isabella. He was barely a father to Isabella, just as much as he had been with Marie. 

Isabella saw Marie creep into the kitchen, silently grabbing a cup. “Hey,” Isabella whispered.

Marie was a little startled by Isabella’s little ‘hi’ that she dropped her cup. She smiled sheepishly, putting the glass on the counter. “Hi, Izzy. How was your day?” 

Isabella was an emergency room nurse. She was very accustomed to long nights. Isabella had a daughter, Aurora. She was sleeping in one of the smaller rooms downstairs. “It was long, definitely, but I got Rory those hello kitty bandages she wanted.”

Marie smiled softly. “That’s good. She’ll have an easier time on the skateboard with those.” She had always longed for someone to care for and cherish. Isabella had a husband that worked in Bludhaven. After Aurora was born, Isabella and her husband separated. 

“You’re usually not up at this time. Did you get up to get a glass of water?” Isabella leaned against the table, taking down her hair. 

“No, there’s a spider that I was gonna put outside, but he’s probably laid a million eggs by now.” Marie took a deep breath and sighed. She didn’t want to keep her sister up. “I should probably head back to bed.”

“Right, but I wanted to let you know that Bruce has been asking about you,” Isabella nonchalantly grabbed an apple, and took a bite out of it. “What’s that all about?”

Marie gulped. “He has my number. He can contact me.” She had a little bit of a history with Bruce. Marie had some history with the man. In college, she was friends with him for a time. She didn’t really know much about Gotham’s major families, and she didn’t really give a shit to care. However, he never disclosed his last name. Marie respected it, and she didn’t prod him for an answer. Once Marie did her own research, she stopped talking to him. 

“Well, he doesn’t try to just contact anyone, right?” Isabella said, flabbergasted. “Bruce Wayne has been radio silent for the past four years. You don’t want to go talk to him and at least see what he has to say?”

Marie rolled her eyes. “No, he can talk to me himself. If he wants to see me, he can come knocking on my door.”

Isabella scoffed. “You know, the inheritance money is eventually going to be gone. Bruce Wayne is so insanely rich, I don’t understand why you haven’t married him, yet.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “I don’t give a shit about that, Izzy. I’m not ready to marry anyone yet. I’m still trying out my options.”

“Oh, yeah, What opinions?” Isabella retorted, sarcastically. “Come on, Marie. You should live a little. A little night on the town could pick your spirits up.”

“Nah, I’m alright, Iz. I’m going to sleep.” Marie made her way upstairs to her bedroom. She gently placed her glass next to her bedside table. She laid down on her bed, covering herself in her sheets. She noticed something that wasn’t there before. A large roll of duct tape was sitting right next to her cup. 

She got up from her bed. The spider was still hanging above her. Marie felt like the room was getting smaller. Suddenly in the blink of her eye, the spider touched the floor. She backed up into the closet, hearing his heavy breathing. Edward grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to the closet. Before Marie could scream, he put his hand over her mouth.

“Shhh,” Edward’s whispers were muffled from his mask. He looked at her, longingly. Marie looked up at the cloaked figure, terrified. She punches Edward hard in the gut. His eyes widened as he winced from the pain. Edward fell to the ground, holding his knees up to his chest. Marie automatically defended herself against the attacker. 

He began to cough through his mask, breathing heavily, while there was a stifled giggle coming out of his throat. As he started to get himself off the ground, Marie reached for something at the bottom of her bed. It was a small dagger, with a small ‘s’ inscribed on the handle. Edward froze at her weapon. While he was still in pain, he hunched over picking up a phone. 

Marie kept up her composure while the knife was shaking in her hand. She was so shocked by the attack. Marie couldn’t describe her frustrations, especially considering her niece was sleeping right below her room. She ripped the phone out of his hands. “There’s a child downstairs.” She said, in a harsh disciplinary tone. “What made you think breaking in was a good idea? I could call the police.”

Edward looked up at her, shocked. A man in a mask was threatening her. Shouldn’t she be scared? She had his phone in his hand. He had hurt in his eyes, but he couldn’t blame her. She was the one with the weapon. He needed to get out of this mindset. He chuckled softly. “Alright, go ahead.” He limbered over to her bed and sat down.

Marie sighed, still keeping her knife pointed at Edward. The phone required a passcode, and it didn’t seem to match anything she typed in, which was weird because this was her phone. It took a second to realize that her phone and its files were completely encrypted. “Fuck..” She whispered to herself. She unknowingly sat down next to him on the bed.

Edward grinned wide underneath the mask. He was so close to her. Closer than he had ever been in years. “I can fix that, only if you do me one small favor.”

Marie looked over at Edward, rolling her eyes. “And what’s that? What could I possibly do for you?”

He leaned over, inching closer and closer to her face. He whispered in her ear. “What kind of death is born in bliss?”

Tiny sparks in her mind began to ignite, as the question was spoken. Marie frowned. “Who are you?”

Edward waved a gloved finger in her face. “I asked the question first. Answer it.”

Marie took a deep breath. While she needed her phone back, it wasn’t worth the risk of getting Aurora or Isabella hurt. “You can have it, einstein.” She tossed the phone into his lap.

But, Edward didn’t want to accept this. He grabbed her arm, keeping her next to him on the bed. “No.” His volume had gotten a little higher, but knowing that there were other people besides him and her, he quickly corrected himself. “Answer the question, Marie.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “Y-You know me?” She didn’t want to push back, out of fear for everyone else in the building. A couple of tears started falling from her face, as she was visibly shaken. 

Edward nodded. “All you have to do is answer the question.”

“Is it ignorance?” Marie whispered. Her eyes were pleading for Edward to accept this answer. 

Edward’s muffled chuckling grew a little louder, as his hand was lowered to Marie’s waist. “Ignorance. Ignorance is what makes up the foundations for the people that run this city. You could imagine my distress when I saw your name brought up along with the death of your father. The news has been saying things, which I don’t think are true.”

Marie looked down from Edward. “Why? Because Reginald Sinclair was my father? I don’t deserve to die alongside that stupid fucking sociopath.” Her tears started falling down a lot more frequently.

Edward placed his gloved hand on her cheek. “You’re the last person I want dead.”

Marie looked into his glassy blue eyes. They were somewhat familiar. She reached out her hands to touch the cling wrap and duct tape mask. Edward flinched, moving her hand away from his face. However, Marie slipped her hands under his mask. Her cold fingers pressed upon his warm cheek, slowly taking it off of him. 

His face was completely red. Whether it was from the moisture of the mask, or the fact that Marie just caught him, he looked completely stunned. Marie’s expression grew a lot softer. 

“Oh my god, Eddie?” She blinked a few times, shakingly putting on her glasses to see his full image. Once she got a clearer picture, she embraced him, delicately. “Why didn’t you just call?”

He smiled blissfully, despite the incredible pain in his stomach. “Well, your phone was encrypted.”

Marie scoffed. “You’re the one who encrypted it.” She took a deep sigh. “What are you doing here, Ed?”

“I wanted to see you.” He answered. Edward needed to be transparent to her for his plan to work. He desired her trust. He knew her a long time ago. He didn’t have parents in the first place, and with the abuse, Marie was put through, he couldn’t even imagine what her father was like. “I haven’t seen you in years.”