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auspicioustidings · 2 months

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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 3

Brose and Butter

Summary: You finally return the favour and look after Simon while he is breaking and a long building tension breaks. Words: 3k TWs: cheating

Parts: 1 2 3 4

The new place was nice. Bigger than the old one, better area. It wasn’t like you and Johnny had planned to live where you had been forever, you had been looking at houses before he died. Lots of bedrooms. There had been plans to fill them.

This house didn’t have as many bedrooms as he had dreamt about. One master bedroom with an en-suite, 2 other bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor. A nice open plan ground floor with a kitchen and living area plus a toilet. A garage big enough to have a little workshop in it since Simon enjoyed working on bikes.

Because he was living there too. It had been an argument you had lost when he had insisted on paying a lot of money into the house but having the deed be entirely yours. It felt like you were taking advantage somehow given that you knew he adored Joseph so had never really went back to his own flat after he had started living with you. It was supposed to be temporary.

But it made sense in a way. He was gone half of the time anyway, so his flat was laying empty for months. This way he always came home to a warm house instead of an impersonal, dusty museum. And J was always so happy when he was home. It was nice to have the help around the house too.

You tried to ignore the amount of justifications you both came up with for the situation. You and Simon Riley did not like one another. You could not like one another. It didn’t matter if you sometimes got caught in his eyes (or that you swore they flickered to your lips, to your body). It didn’t matter if your mind wandered sometimes to imagine how he might kiss you (hard you thought, the first blow in a brawl that begged for retaliation).

The master bedroom was yours. It felt lonely, especially now that J stayed in the nursery. Too quiet, or at least it used to be. Before Simon had left for work a fortnight ago he had given you a little white noise machine. The thing had about a million settings, but in the end you found that the low sounds of snowfall on the window and a log fire always settled the anxious beat of your broken heart enough for you to sleep.

He was due back today. Not that you kept track given that he was just a housemate. Not that last time he wasn’t home when you thought he was meant to be you made yourself so ill with anxiety that Kyle’s partner had to come round to stay with you. Price had shown up a few days later to check in and explain Simon and Kyle had been delayed a week in a location with no signal but they were ok and it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You suspected he only showed up in person because Kyle’s partner had contacted him. You didn’t know what the deal was there if you were honest, the two of them had a strange relationship but whenever you asked about it from them or Kyle you got nothing but pained smiles and gentle dismissals.

God you hoped he was back as planned. It had been embarrassing enough before although everyone was happy to play it off that you had a stomach bug and that’s why you were completely strung out, hadn’t been sleeping and had been throwing up. You had almost managed to convince yourself of it at this point.

When you heard the door open and the thunk of heavy boots you should have really just continued on with mixing the brownie mix (you just felt like making them you supposed, coincidence that they were his favourite). Instead you smiled and wiped your hands off on your jeans, going to the door to see him hopping on one foot as he untied his laces to get a boot off.

“If you’re going to fall over I’d prefer you wait until J is up from his nap so he can watch.”

He swore and nearly did fall, but just about managed to keep himself upright by leaning on the wall to get the boot off. He was in black sweats, hoodie and his balaclava as he usually was when he came home. Only there was something wrong in the set of his shoulders. There was something haunted in his eyes.

“Simon?”

Your voice was gentle now, soothing. Bad deployment you thought. You had been with Johnny long enough to know that they happened, but he had been so different. When Johnny was on a bad deployment he came back with his blood up. You knew how it had went by how hard he fucked you.

And you had always taken it. Even when it got bad and he warned you off, you would open yourself up to him and let him use your body to exorcise whatever demons were lingering. His anger you had known how to deal with, you had learned how to take orders, go to your knees and take it with a ‘thank you sir’ to help it burn off. It was scary and it was painful but you would take a thousand days of that strange angry (and make no mistake, devastatingly hot) version of the man you loved if it gave you one more minute with him.

Simon was different. He didn’t seem angry at all, he seemed sad. You felt your heart lurch when he dropped his bag and stumbled across to you, going to his knees for you. He looked up at you as if you were the only thing in the world then. And you don’t know what instinct it was that drove you, but you gently pushed down his hood and pulled off his mask.

He let you. He stayed still on his knees even as you ran fingers through his hair to fix it back in place. It always was a mess when he took his balaclava off. Fuck. Having Johnny who was usually fun loving and completely willing to let you direct the action turn to an animalistic dominant beast was one thing, but it could never have prepared you for having Simon who you had only ever known as strong and domineering on his knees with his eyes wide and trusting and waiting for orders.

It was a reminder of how impossible the idea of liking this man would be. He was nothing like the man you had lost, the one you had loved. The one you still did. You didn’t think there would ever come a day when you were able to stop.

And still you spread your fingers across his cheekbones to tilt his head up and give him a stern look, one that said that he was going to be okay because you would accept nothing else. He had freckles you realised with a start. He let out a shaky sigh and seemed to take your touch as permission, falling forward to hug you, head resting heavily on your stomach.

You kept petting his hair, feeling like your brain was fuzzing out. You just wanted to take care of him for once. It was always him taking care of you. It didn’t have to mean anything did it? He was sad and you could be what he needed right now without it meaning anything.

“You’re ok Si, hm?”

“I’m ok.”

“There, that’s good. Come on, you need to help me finish the brownies before J wakes up. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Finishing off the brownies was done in a strange haze as Simon slowly came back to himself. He kept close, almost always having at least one point of contact between you. Warm hand on your waist, the heat spreading out and making your skin feel prickly. A touch of your hair that you felt from scalp to toes. A brush of his thigh on yours that had your pussy clenching. You had forgotten it could do that at such little provocation. You hadn’t thought it would ever do it again after everything.

For one mad moment as the kitchen was tidied and the brownies taken out to cool you were sure you would kiss him. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted Simon fucking Riley.

And for one mad moment as Simon fucking Riley was dragged out of a trauma spiral instead of languishing in it for days as he had become accustomed to, he was sure he would put you on the kitchen island and taste you. You, the annoying fucking princess who did nothing but make fun of him and have obnoxious taste in almost everything. Fuck.

The cry of a newly awakened and hungry almost 1 year old broke both of you from what was surely a bout of madness.

“Do you want to…?”

“Ye, be nice to see him.”

You followed behind, guilt poisoning the brief excitement at watching J react to seeing Simon back. He was getting so good at recognising different people now, his reactions bigger and emotions clearer.

He was signing already, you had taught him ‘mama’ and ‘more’ and ‘hungry’. God you could burst with pride at how inquisitive he was. A little late with his words but the doctors weren’t too worried about it. You showed him photos of his dad, tried to teach him how to say dada. You wanted so badly for it to be his first word. The poisoning guilt turned viscerally painful when you realised you hoped Simon would be there to hear it.

You just needed someone there to see that Johnny wasn’t forgotten about. You still felt like you were burning up anytime his family called to check in. Joseph was healthy and happy but everything still felt like somehow you were failing him. Failing Johnny.

That familiar guilt slowly settled as it always did, becoming a manageable, dull throb. You likened it to a headache really. Sometimes it was debilitating like a migraine, sometimes it was barely noticeable. When Simon returned it always spiked but quickly dulled down as he settled back in.

That night, after Joseph was put down with a goodnight kiss from both you and Simon, you went to bed feeling off balance. You about stopped breathing when the door clicked open and a body almost gingerly settled in next to you.

He had just been in Las Almas he told you. It wasn’t for anything difficult, the mission didn’t go wrong and he even got to see some old friends. But in the dark he bled out his grief that in such a familiar place, Johnny wasn’t there.

Much like everything else between you two, something changed without it being stated. Simon slept in your bed with you from then on.

–

Joseph’s first word was dada. He hadn’t been looking at the photo when he said it.

–

Simon heard the thunk of fist on flesh before he felt it. His anger flared and he grabbed Gaz by the collar, growling at him.

“The fuck was that Garrick?!”

Only for once Gaz didn’t immediately look to diffuse the situation as he always did when the 141 came to blows. This time he bared his teeth.

“Are you fucking her?”

Simon pulled at his collar before shoving him back, anger mixing with confusion mixing with guilt. He hadn’t fucked you. He fucking wanted to. And he was starting to think it was only a matter of time. It was an exquisite kind of torture holding you through the night as he had been everytime he was home for the last 6 months.

“Not that it’s your business Garrick, but no, I’m not fucking her” he hissed, hating that he even had to say it out loud because it felt like a lie even if it wasn’t.

“But you are sleeping in her bed.”

“That a problem?”

God of course he would think it was. Johnny had died in the line of duty and here he was living his life. The life Simon never thought to want with the beautiful, clever, funny and infuriating woman and the baby who looked at him like he hung the stars.

Gaz laughed derisively, running a hand through his hair in disgusted disbelief.

“It’s not… like that” Simon tried.

It was.

“Fuck Ghost, I never took you for a saint but I at least thought you had a shred of humanity left.”

“You think I don’t know it’s wrong to settle in with Johnny’s fucking widow?! With his baby? Christ Sergeant I’m well aware I may as well be pissing on his bloody grave!”

“You-” Gaz choked out, looking angrier than Simon had ever seen him. “You think this is about you betraying him? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“You think I wouldn’t be good to her?”

Simon couldn’t believe this is where the conversation was going. Was he really trying to convince someone he could love you? Out loud? He knew he couldn’t, he knew there was nothing he could say that would make it better. But he wanted you so much.

“Like you were in Las Almas?”

His blood ran cold.

“What’re you…?”

“Oh fuck off you twat. You weren’t subtle and I’m not an idiot.”

“It wasn’t… it was one time Gaz. They weren’t… he hadn’t proposed or anything yet.”

He hated himself. He hated Johnny. He wanted to throw up when those words left his mouth, as if a ring on your finger made any difference.

“She’s my friend. She’s my friend and I had to keep it to myself because I loved Johnny. Because I love you. I fucking picked you two over her. And now what? You can’t fuck him anymore so you’ll take the next best thing?”

His heart twisted and twisted until it was disfigured into something dark and cold. He was a monster. He was a monster because you weren’t the next best thing. He was a monster because if Johnny showed up tomorrow, he wouldn’t let you go. He would fight him for you if he had to.

“...I’m in love with her.”

“Fuck.”

Kyle Garrick was no stranger to how love fucked up everything. He hated this situation, but if Simon loved you, if you loved Simon? He couldn’t ruin it with a betrayal from years ago. Maybe that made him a terrible person. But Johnny was dead, what good would it do to ruin your chance at happiness after him and ruin your perception of him at the same time? He hoped it wasn’t the wrong decision to make.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself Lieutenant. And don’t think Captain and the gorgeous little psychopath waiting for me to come home won’t help.”

Simon knew he would as well. But now that he had finally stopped lying to himself about what he felt for you there was nothing he could do to stop the feral possessiveness that demanded he claim you.

–

“You’re just being sensitive princess.”

Oh you could strangle him. Simon had been off when you had gotten back from dropping J with Kyle’s partner. Price had been there and you had not asked why. Kyle was off as well you thought, eyes darting between you and Simon before hugging you and heading off.

It was only the second time J had stayed without you overnight. You were less a mess this time than you had been the first time at least. You needed it. You loved that kid more than anything else in the world, but you needed a break. A full night’s sleep. A night to relax which was being ruined by Simon being a bloody dick because you had asked what was up.

“Top form tonight, that why someone clocked you?”

He’d probably have a black eye tomorrow based on how the skin was already puffy and discolouring. You assumed it must have been Kyle. Right now you wished he was still here so you could thank him.

“Thinking of taking a swing? Don’t think you could reach but I’ll crouch if you ask nicely.”

“If I ever ask nicely for anything from you then I can only hope someone takes me out back and puts me out of my misery.”

You were getting angry. Of course you were. Because it was… well it was Simon. Nobody could wind you up anywhere near as easily as he did. You thought maybe it was mutual as he sneered and got up in your face, looming over you as you crossed your arms and glowered up at him. Stupid, tall fucker.

“You think I couldn’t make you ask nicely princess?”

“And you really think you could casper?”

He leaned down, arms caging you to the kitchen island, teeth seeming sharper somehow, like at any moment he might sink them into your throat.

“I could have you begging like a bitch in heat” he whispered in your ear.

It affected you. Of course it did. But you could hear the huskiness of his voice and you could feel the heat of him. You weren’t the only one affected.

“Yeah? Prove it Riley.”

The tension that had been slowly tightening for the last year snapped violently. You tasted blood on his lips when you bit into them, you felt bruises form from how roughly he gripped your hips as he hauled you onto the counter.

Two brutal and torturous hours later, thoroughly fucked every which way and still not having been allowed to cum, you did beg. You begged and cried and thanked him when he finally sent you into an earth shattering orgasm. Another hour and you were begging and crying again for him to stop. He laughed darkly and wrung two more orgasms from you even when you told him you couldn’t cum again. Only when you truly had nothing more to give did he feed you brose and butter.

The last thing you remembered before passing out, exhausted, sated, cleaned and cuddled up, was mumbling hoarsely to Simon that you loved him. Maybe it was just your head being muddled from the events of the evening, but you swore you heard him say it back as you drifted off. You swore he apologised for it.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghost x soap #brose is the Scots word for porridge btw #brose and butter is a euphemism for something that is not porridge

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gallifreyanhotfive · 3 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 24

The Second Doctor took Jamie and Victoria to Traken once. The Keeper at the time was so fond of Victoria he gave her a piece of his mind that would one day become Viola.

The whole idea behind clowns came from the ravenous predators of the Time Lords.

When the Doctor's biodata had been altered by the Faction Paradox, the Eighth Doctor's eyes pulsed between blue and green.

The Herald is a monstrous version of the Thirteenth Doctor from an alternate future where she was absorbed by the chaos while trapped in the Catastrophia, a universe of madness. The Herald exists alongside the original Thirteenth and the Sanity, another counterpart.

Katarina was originally judged to be neither good nor evil and was sentenced to wander for eternity in the fields. The First Doctor refused to accept this from the judges and instead went to the highest authority he could, Hades. (He wanted to talk to their manager.) After being convinced by Persephone, Hades relented and allowed Katarina into the Elysian Fields.

Even before this, it was difficult to even get Katarina across the River Styx anyway. Charon considered her unclean because she had taken her own life. To get her across, the First Doctor originally offered his signet ring as payment, but they instead scattered Charon's coins and stole his boat.

Susan made an archive of all of her adventures on the TARDIS. The Thirteenth Doctor would later find and watch all of them.

The Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan, and Adric once went to a planet full of statues. These statues were highly intelligent. Adric started turning into a statue after the statues started saying that he belonged with them, but the Doctor saved him (because no, that boy is not allowed to turn himself into a statue), to his shock and horror. Adric was very angry about this for a long time since the Doctor didn't let him choose his destiny.

Liv Chenka has referred to the Eighth Doctor as a "kitten with a ball of string" before.

For Yaz's birthday, the Thirteenth Doctor picked up a Sontaran Frosted Boom Cake from a Sontaran bakery, some Zeppelins from Blitz-era London to function as balloons, and a candelabra from Paris to function as birthday candles. The cake ended up exploding into a mess of pink chocolate, but Yaz was delighted regardless.

Padrac was an old classmate of the Doctor's and a member of the same zero-grav hyperball team. The Eighth Doctor referred to him as "Paddy" several times. Like many old classmates and friends of the Doctor's, however, Padrac was evil and tried to not only kill the Doctor but destroy the vast majority of everything in existence.

Cardinal Zero regenerated into an avian.

The Fifth Doctor and Nyssa landed on Mondas as the Cybermen were being created. Due to his alien biology, the Doctor was used as a template to produce fully functioning Mondasian Cybermen.

The Thirteenth Doctor once served as an undercover assassin to the King. Eventually, she was contracted to kill...the Doctor.

When the Twelfth Doctor caught the common cold, he thought he would have to regenerate.

A little girl named Lizzie once snuck on board the TARDIS while the Thirteenth Doctor was away and dropped a peanut butter sandwich down the console. This broke the navigational systems.

While trying to guess the Ninth Doctor's name, the Grimminy-Grew called him Brother Lungbarrow, Theta Sigma, and the Oncoming Storm.

One time while posing as a museum curator, the Thirteenth Doctor met Missy. Missy wanted to know the location of several items that had been stolen from her but never actually realized she was talking to the Doctor.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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kiss-theggoat · 9 months

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Ok okay okay- I’m back and I just have to pitch this idea to you. Don’t feel like you need to write anything for it but I just need to slide this over to you. House of Wax setting again lol- okay so the clothes and outfits- the boys have a lot already from their previous victims. But sometimes they want something a bit different for an exhibit. Enter the S/O. Who’s sitting in the garage with Bo, sowing outfits together for Vincent’s new figures. She can’t be in the basement with Vincent since she needs proper light- but can’t be completely alone since the boys are still, even after years, unsure if she’ll try to leave.

So She’s just there, tongue sticking out as she thoughtfully sows glass beads onto a dress. And if any victims walk through the garage, and ask why she’s sowing in here or what she sowing- she’ll say;

“Oh its clothing for the museum”

“Oh I’m working on one of the girls prom dresses.”

“Oh, one of the old men in town ripped his pants again.”

“I just enjoy the company and music.”

She’s also always repairing the boy's clothes when stuff… happens (cough cough knife and chasing)

Angrily sitting there, sowing up Bo’s shirt and lecturing him. “I just re-did this Bo! Now I have to pause my work on the gown for Vincent.”

-🪴🖤

A/N: Hi hi hi 🪴🖤!! Thanks so much for the request and I love the idea! It’s so cute to think of one of the boys coming up with some clothes that need mending. Anyways, on with the one shot!

The Sinclair Seamstress

Sinclair Brothers One Shot

Summary: You find yourself as the personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers.

TW: none 🖤

The radio was quiet, filling the kitchen with a soft melody which you hummed along to. You were hard at work at breakfast for the Sinclair brothers, whom you’d become very close to in your year in Ambrose. The toaster popped up beside you, and you held the pan that contained almost nine eggs worth of cheese covered scramble. You’d filled the house with an amazing aroma, mixing cheese and eggs and bacon, and onions in half because Bo and Lester liked onions and Vincent and you didn’t. You smiled as you grabbed the toast, now having two pieces for each of you. You placed the carefully on the plate and then buttered them all before putting the egg scramble between the two pieces, along with three pieces of fresh, crispy bacon.

“Somethin’ smells good.” You heard Bo’s raspy morning voice and it filled your chest with warm honey, making you turn around with his plate in your hands like a little kid presenting a handmade gift.

“Breakfast!” You said happily, setting his plate down where he usually sat, at the head of the table. “Sit.” You said, walking towards the fridge. You wanted to grab out the gallon of orange juice you’d gone so far to buy, but you knew that he’d hound you for a beer, so you skipped the hassle and grabbed one for him. You popped the cap off and set it besides his breakfast. Bo looked up at you with a quaint lopsided smile, which you knew meant he was pleased.

Before you could ask what he had planned for the day, you heard the creaking of the steps and whipped around to see Lester, sliding his loose old button up over one arm. As he moved, you noticed the huge hole near the armpit seam of the shirt.

“Lester, you can’t wear that. It’s falling apart.” You scolded and walked towards him, fingers finding the tear and tracing it.

Lester sighed, “Well I ain’t got another shirt today. It’s fine.”

“I can fix it for you before you leave. Do you have a sewing kit?”

Lester gave you a look with one eyebrow up. “You can sew?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I used to make my own clothes and stuff. It’s a really easy fix, no time at all.”

“…Well alright. I’m sure we got some sewin’ stuff somewhere.”

And this conversation was how you became a personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers. You never thought you’d be in this position, living with three men in a town of wax and making clothes for their sculptures. But, here you sat, red fabric draping over your legs as you moved closer to the seams you were sewing. The only downside to this was that they didn’t own a sewing machine, so everything you made had to be by hand. This definitely simplified yours and Vincent’s designs, but you made it work.

The dress you were working on now was for a pretty blonde girl in a classy red cocktail dress. You were excited about the fitted bodice and the slight flare of the knee length skirt. Vincent was particular about this dress, and the girl that was about to become wax didn’t have anything that fit that vision.

You hummed to yourself as you sewed, enjoying the pace of the activity and the feeling of the fabric under your fingers. You were sequestered to your room in the house, locked, because the boys were dealing with a new group in town. But it was already close to two in the morning, so you decided that you’d stay in your room until sunrise and then you’d go out and look for them.

That concern and worry was quickly flushed away by the sound of the front door slamming shut and familiar big boots stomping up the stairs. You ran up to the door and unlocked it, seeing a sweaty but thankfully not injured Bo.

“Oh thank god.” You said, practically tackling him with your arms around his neck. “You scared the shit out of me, Bo.” You whispered. “Where are Lester and Vincent?”

“They’re alright. They’re in the workshop.”

You pulled away from him and nodded, sighing a breath of relief. As you stared at him, subconsciously scanning for injuries and blood like you were used to, you noticed a giant hole through your perfect sewing.

You reached forward and touched the edges of the tear. “Dammit Bo, I just fixed this! You guys can never keep your clothes in shape.”

“Not exactly my fault, darlin’.”

“Take it off. I already have my stuff out.” You grumbled, moving back towards your chair and moving the dress onto your bed.

“We’re gonna have to tell Vincent that this dress is gonna take longer now because I have to fix your shirt for the ninth time. And he also wants me to make a pair of pants for another sculpture, but-“

“You don’t have to fix it, doll.”

“Take your shirt off, Bo.”

Bo slid his button up off and handed it over to you with a sly smile on his face, chuckling a bit at the fact you were so perturbed at the hole in his shirt. You grabbed his shirt and finally your supplies, sitting back down in your chair to begin sewing.

Just then, you heard more footsteps clunk up the stairs. You looked up from your needle to see Vincent and Lester. And even though you were relieved that they were okay, the stack of drawings in Vincent’s hand, surely new clothes for his new sculptures, made you anything but happy.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair x you

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hotsingledragon · 9 months

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OK OK BUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

sugar daddy miles quaritch .

ur his cute little innocent girlfriend , and he just spoils you absolutely rotten including giving u literally the best sex of ur life. u should totally do one where he spoils reader half to death for her birthday. maybe w some romantic sex at the end between the two!! also pls human reader !

eep eep yEs.

so maybe i’ve had similar thoughts and this was sitting in my drafts- thank u for prompting me to actually post lol

treating you like a princess just comes naturally for quaritch, tbh it’s one his love languages. why shouldn’t he treat the girl he loves with everything she wants and more?

it’s not like you’re always asking for stuff, quaritch is often unprompted in the way he spoils you, just loves the shine in your big pretty eyes and the beautiful, delighted smile you give him and how you always give him a big hug <3 he’s so in love with you

-always gifting you with jewelry that shines against your warm skin. makes you turn around and flip your hair so he can kneel behind you and clasp the chain around your neck. his head feels dizzy with how big his hands are compared to your slender neck, how he could crush you in a second.

-the very first necklace he gave you is a 24karat chain with the initial M like it’s his way of claiming you and also yeah he grew up in the 80s n he’s cheesy like that but

-you wear this chain every day, and it sits so pretty over your collarbones, miles eyes are always drawn to it. especially when you’re laying beneath him and your tits are bouncing with the way he thrusts into you. that little golden M glints in the low light and paired with the sight of your dewy skin and the sound of his name falling from your mouth-miles feels crazy ahhh!!!!

-another thing-you just smell so good, a concoction of lightly scented lotion and your yummy hair products and strawberry chapstick. quaritch is always burying his face in your hair because it smells just like buttercreme icing. he’s catching your wrists in his grasp, breathing in the sweet tones of your perfume. will leave lingering kisses on each wrist, right where your pulse is beating. quaritch always kissing the chap off your lips so he can taste a bit of you.

-quaritch mentally notes what products you use and buys two more so you never run out

-and he just loves watching you go about your small routines and habits as you get all dolled up!

-oh and those silky pajama sets u wear drive him crazy!

the ones that fit you so perfectly and your skin glows against the soft fabrics, loves that your skin is just as soft as the silk when he’s teasing the strap down your arm

-so quaritch takes it upon himself to order a set for you, and it’s waiting for you in a beautifully wrapped package, a hand scribed note tucked under the ribbon.

-wear this tonight. -Q

it’s a lacy bundle of blue fabric, the color reminiscent of mile’s cerulean skin. diamonds glitter throughout the piece, the material is like softened butter to the touch, and it’s definitely the most expensive piece of underwear you’ve ever owned.

“now just look at you, doll,” he drawls,

“come ‘ere,” he calls in a softer tone, his bicep jumps as he beckons you with his fingers

“lemme get a look at'cha.” quatich guides with a pull on your wrist, encouraging you to stand between his spread thighs.

“now you are truly a sight, darlin’, always are but this-“

and miles really is speechless, you are such a sight. he makes you spin for him, wants to grab his polaroid and take your picture ((and he does)). wants to frame you in a museum- you deserve your own museum, he concludes

so gentle as he pushes the fabric off your skin, his touch is just teasing you because he wants to take his time tonight. wants to slip his fingers under the elastic and against your soft skin as he tugs until every piece is off off off

but when you’re bare for him, just the delicate chain around your neck, miles loses it- he’s on you and kissing you while two of his thick fingers run through your folds, so big against you. he’ll tease you open with one, two, three fingers and by that point you’ve come twice already, chest rising and cheeks flush with your plump lip under your teeth. miles finds you so beautiful like this

the stretch is SO good when we he bottoms out, you’re so slick and he made sure to lube his cock so he can fuck you like he really wants to. fucking you into the mattress and making you come over and over. he gets you in that headspace where you’re eyes are glossy and you’re just so cute whining for him.

-“please, daddy,” you would sniffle, giving him those eyes and it’s over! he’s clawing into your hips and holding your weight while he fucks you like a doll, coming inside your pussy with a loud purring growl.

-i literally always say this but Q is so sleepy and heavy after he comes- just lays into you while he calms down. i heard that na’vi are like 600 lbs so it’s not long before you’re tapping him, sometimes slapping him to let up and allow you to breathe

-so sweet with aftercare idc. kisses u sweetly while he gently cleans you up with a warm towel, puts the sheet over you, tucks you in and snuggles right against you- gentle kissing while he whispers praises until neither of you can hold your eyes open.

WAHHHH why did i do this to myself- ik i didn’t capture every bit of your request- i honestly have more ideas in my drafts and will add bday spoil to the list!!! thank you for the request, my sweet! smooches

#request #miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar 2009 #atwow #my work #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water

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incorrectbatfam · 11 months

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What kinds of babies would the batkids be if Bruce adopted them from the start?

I did another ask here a while ago talking about what if the batfam were adopted as babies, which I’m using as a frame of reference. While it’s not totally accurate to their canon age differences, I kinda like how it worked out.

Dick is mobile from the get-go. He crawls as soon as Bruce puts him down, tries to climb out of his crib, and is the reason the high chair has a seatbelt. Things only get worse when he learns to grab and stack things. Bruce walks in on him climbing a teetering tower of toys to reach the cereal box, and he just barely catches him before it topples over. Everyone thinks Jason is the reason for the child leash, but it’s actually Dick after he got lost at the museum. He’s the most outwardly affectionate of all the children, but his Terrible Twos are also the worst when he uses his limited vocabulary to argue with Bruce at every step. He’s also jealous when he’s no longer an only child and makes a big fuss at first before accepting it.

Although Barbara has her own parents, the Waynes and the Gordons are very familiar with each other, both through Bruce and the Commissioner’s friendship and babysitting each other’s kids. Dick is more active, but Barbara learns to speak first and can even read the alphabet by the time they’re in daycare. Her parents try to limit screen time at home, but at the Manor, she learns to ask Alexa to play Little Einstein. Dick is also personally offended when he offers her his favorite candy and she goes blegh.

Cass comes 3 years later, and she’s the baby you can’t let out of sight unless you feel like searching the whole house. She’ll hide anywhere, from under the bed to the trunk of the car. Selina suggests a cat bell, but Cass quickly learns to take it off. At first they think it’s because she’s shy, but it turns out she just prefers to watch people from a distance. Playing the Barbie ballerina music draws her out, though, because she loves twirling around. Cass learns sign language from her aunts Harley and Ivy first, and she makes up some of her own gestures to signal what she wants. Her hair was longer until Dick got peanut butter in it and they all agreed it’s easier to keep it short.

Harper and Cullen are a year apart from each other, with Cullen being Cass’s age. They’re adopted at the same time, though, because it took a while for Bruce to prove that their bio father isn’t fit to be a parent. As a toddler, Harper is pretty independent, including dressing herself and using the bathroom. She likes to take things apart, so Bruce keeps expensive devices out of her reach—not that it works for long (see: Dick). She’s the most vocal baby and the first to learn “bad words” like poo-poo head. She’s the messiest though, often leaving things out and getting upset when people put her things away because she needs them.

Cullen, on the other hand, is more shy from their previous household and takes some time to warm up to people. Bruce encourages him to ask for what he wants and always reassures him that there’s plenty to go around. The first person he grows close to is Cass, who takes him under her wing in a protective way. Together, they like to play pretend as mythical creatures or flip through picture books together despite not knowing how to read. He has a hard time falling asleep, so Bruce reads him stories until he does. On stormy nights, he goes to either Harper or Dick and will climb into their beds without warning. The first time that happened, Dick thought it was the monster from his closet and screamed so loud he woke everyone else up. Once Cullen learns how to use the remote, getting him away from the TV is a daily struggle.

Jason is a year younger than Cass, and he’s a bit of a coin flip. Most days, he’s perfectly well-behaved and will quietly play by himself, especially with the pop-up books. Other days, he’ll throw the worst tantrums and break whatever he gets his hands on. He fights with Dick the most because at the time, he’s the youngest and can get away with more. Eventually, things even out a little and he fits perfectly into the fun-and-mischievous role, earning the affectionate title of Papa’s Little Nightmare, which he wears like a badge of pride whenever he licks people’s forks or sticks his finger up Bruce’s nose. He also likes to watch Alfred cook and his birthmark is his white streak.

A full five years later is Tim, a quiet but observant baby who can learn fast by watching others. He picks up now to climb the banister from Dick, hide in tight spaces from Cass, how to use a hammer from Harper, what shows to watch from Cullen, and how to argue from Jason. He and Jason don’t get along at first because Jason felt like he was being replaced, but they eventually learn to coexist. Tim’s first toy to himself is a plastic camera that shows pictures of cartoon characters. He’s the kid that asks tons of questions, like why Bruce and Selina lock themselves in the bedroom. He also likes to explore and believes any unfamiliar creature is an alien.

I know canonically Steph and Duke are a few years apart, but as babies I headcanon them as “twins” born on the same day to different parents and are two years younger than Tim because it’s cute and chaotic. Sometimes they share things, like their bedroom and toys. Other times, they get double, like two birthday cakes. At least once a week, they’ll try and confuse people by swapping clothes. Duke makes up stories and Steph scribbles out the scenes—sometimes she even does it on paper. If the house isn’t a mess before, then it definitely is with them when Bruce finds fruit gummies in the couch and shoes in the microwave. Instead of blankies and stuffed animals, Steph falls asleep clutching a box of toaster waffles and Duke with a bear-shaped honey bottle. Duke tells anti-jokes that he finds hilarious (“Knock knock” “Who’s there?” “Me!”) while Steph flat-out roasts people (“Dickie smells like icky”). They have concerts where Steph scream-sings while Duke bangs pots and pans. Steph prefers to be on Bruce’s shoulders while Duke clings to his leg. There’s a big Get Along shirt for when the siblings fight, but Steph and Duke just wear it for funsies. Because Tim sometimes gets overlooked, they follow him around like baby ducklings and think he’s the coolest sibling.

Carrie, who’s two years after Steph and Duke, is the most imaginative baby and will loop people in as her side characters. Usually her roleplays involve being wilderness adventurers, after she watched Dora The Explorer. She likes to run around, often wearing a towel cape, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or play with things like bugs. She’ll only do baths if she can bring her snorkel and her many pool toys. In the car, no one wants to sit in front of her because she’s a seat-kicker. She’s easily wired even with just a little bit of sugar, so whenever another kid mad at Bruce, they’ll give her a whole bag of candy and set her loose.

Damian is the last one and is three years younger than Carrie. He’s the smallest baby because he was born preterm, and Bruce is also worried because he rarely cries. But when he does, he won’t stop until he wears himself out. Carrie is the most protective of him and Tim thinks he’s secretly an alien (after seeing him hooked to machines in the hospital). Whenever Talia visits, he’ll systematically show her his toys, including his favorite stuffed cow. Besides Mama and Dada, his first words are animal sounds. He also likes art and will poke his head in whenever he sees his siblings drawing. If he senses someone having a bad day, he’ll sit outside their door and wait for them to come out.

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twinksrepository · 3 months

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Almost dying twice in one day doesn't seem like your idea of Fun

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Blood, injury, almost dying, feinting

Word count: Roughly 4K

A/N: You'd gone to Fortuna on the promise of your own practice. Too bad you should have realized that an offer that sounds too good to be true tends to be just that. Hiding in your office as something that you refuse excuse beats down your door expecting to die, only for a knight in shining armor to show up. Well he's clad in a red leather jacket and you sure as hell don't think he's a knight. Letting him carry you around like a sack of potatoes is a lot better than being made into a human skewer though.

Chapter two: You really don't have any luck. Waking up and almost dying for a second time, at least your leather clad hero seems happy to let you ramble instead of facing the facts that demons are real. For now.

Back in the Devil May Cry Office a week earlier

“The order of the sword huh?” Dante had a feeling when Lady walked in he was going to end up dragged into another mess.

“Yes. Are you familiar with them?”

“Sorry. Religion and I don’t mix.” A quirk of his eyebrow as he kept eating not missing the silent chuckle coming from Trish. It might have gone without saying as to the reason, most religions weren't fans of those of demonic descent being a part of them.

“It’s a small congregation that gathers in the castle town of Fortuna. I guess the only ones who would have heard of it are the ones who take an interest in this type of thing.” With the tone Lady had, Dante could tell she was trying to butter him up for something.

“Like you.”

“Exactly. So just how much do you know about Sparda?”

“Well. From what I figure. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding him.” Glancing to Trish to see if the demon had anything to add from her time in Hell.

As the blond kept eating her pizza Lady continued on. “The story goes that Sparda served as the feudal lord of the city long ago. The people who live there today take these legends as truth and worship him just like a god.”

“They worship a demon as a god?” If Dante had ever felt incredulous regarding anything about his father he sure felt it now. Then again his old man did have more than a few humans that had been interested in the legend about him more than once.

“Peaceful worship can’t be condemned, but the real problem is the order. Lately, they’ve been running amok catching demons and have even butted in on some of my jobs.”

“Huh, maybe they’re starting a zoo.” Leaning across his desk only to have Lady steal his slice of pizza.

“Not just demons. They’ve also been targeting Devil arms like the ones you have.”

“OK then. A museum. So what?” A quick dart of his hand and he had the baked crust loaded with cheese back in his hand taking a bite.

“Doesn’t that concern you?” Lady leaned back from his desk, and folded her arms across her chest as Dante shrugged, continuing to eat his slice of pizza that he nabbed back. “Or how about that they might be collecting others that are part demon?” That has Trish and Dante pausing to look at her. “I see that has your attention.”

“What makes you think they might be collecting people that are part demon?” While it might have Dante’s attention, part of him is skeptical, there aren’t that many outside of the folks living on Vie de Marli.

“Right now it’s just rumors, but almost everyone in the town believes in Sparda. The town isn’t very friendly to outsiders who aren’t a direct part of the Order or those who are born there. It’s made it a bit of a pain to investigate but.” Raising a single finger while looking down her nose Lady grins. “A year ago a new doctor came into town, with zero ties to the locals, and was brought in by the current leader. With their general view of outsiders, I dug into the doctor, and it turns out she seems to be something of a miracle worker.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything to prompt me to think she’d be part demon.” Huffing and going back to his pizza as if to say give me something to go on. Watching as Lady sauntered around his office as if she owned the place.

“The doctor herself seems to think nothing of it, but people say they see her for bumps and bruises that are gone within hours of her touching them. Before she left for Fortuna she worked in one of the bigger cities and it sounds like the same thing but on a bigger scale. Broken bones healed in a matter of days over weeks and irreparable nerve damage being healed as if it never happened. The real interesting part? This doctor doesn’t seem to know she’s the cause. Even the medical folks haven’t figured it out as they just think it’s miracles out of nowhere, except for the Vicar of the Order of the Sword who offered her a job.”

Another shrug from Dante. “I’m listening but I’m not seeing anything to connect a so-called miracle worker to being part demon.”

“Demons that can heal others are exceptionally rare.” Trish quips before sauntering off the table and heading for the back room.

“Still doesn’t mean anything, she could be a front for something else.” Calling over his shoulder as Dante didn’t move his eyes from Lady. “I still don’t see why you’d think she’s possibly part demon.”

Rolling her eyes and giving her shoulders a shake before leaning down on the edge of his desk once more. “I’m just saying it’s an interesting rumor.” Only to have his pizza snagged again.

“Alright say she is, and everything else you’ve said. So what?” Giving up on getting his lunch back Dante kicked his feet up onto his desk leaning back into his chair.

“Well, what if their intentions are foul? And there’s a diabolical plan behind these apparently random acts?”

“Well then. I’d have something to keep me occupied.” Pushing himself to his feet before calling out over his shoulder “Trish!” Only for both him and Lady to turn to the silence and see a note written where the sword Sparda had been hanging.

See you there, maybe the doctor is cute

Back to the present

“Well, one thing for certain my passed-out friend, you do have something extra about you. In fact you’re kind of heavy.” Grunting at Dante stepped across another rooftop, between dealing with demons and keeping rebellion in one hand and you tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour the man was getting a workout.

Too bad that was when you decided to start to wake up. Opening your eyes to look down just as there was nothing but the cobblestone-lined street roughly three floors below you. “Holy shit!” Trying to roll away only to make the realization you were in the air with something warm wrapped around your middle.

“Calm down or you might not like the fall. Sheese lady.”

“Why am I on a roof? And who the fuck are you?” Screaming at the white-haired man holding you like you weigh next to nothing. Your arms and legs fail as you try to get away only to make the man holding you grunt and almost lose his footing.

“I guess you forgot the part when we jumped up here, now stop squirming or I might drop you for real!” If his tone is anything to go by he’s getting annoyed by your actions but you don’t care at all scrambling to try and get out of his hold. “Seriously Doll if you calm down for a second I’ll put you down.”

“My name isn’t Doll!” A final smack to the center of his back and you hiss, the ulnar side of your hand feels more like you smacked it against a brick wall than a man. “Ow.” With the pain lacing up your arm you’ve stopped struggling and find yourself unceremonial dumped on your butt in front of him. “I say again, Ow.” Looking up at him with a scowl, unsure where the sudden bravado came from.

Only to stare at his back. “I can never catch a break!” Taking a few steps forward with his back still turned to you and his hands in the air as if ranting to the sky. “Even the chicks I rescue give me attitude!”

“Maybe if you didn’t carry them like a sack of potatoes or drop them on their ass they might not be so rude about it.” Rubbing your butt as you stand, muttering under your breath.

“I still needed to fight doll. It hasn’t exactly been a picnic carrying you around and trying to keep us both from getting killed.” Your face is burning, you didn’t think he’d have heard you but he did. Looking down at the ground, well rooftop in front of you you take a few feet before stopping beside the man.

“My name’s not Doll.” You reiterate, giving your name to the man in red and wondering if he was the one that the townsfolk had been screaming about as they ran from the cathedral. Yet you can’t see it if he was the one who had attacked the Vicar that they had been screaming about, if he was what reason did he have to save you? You were no one, not really.. “I’m sort of the town's doctor.”

“Sort of? That doesn’t inspire too much confidence.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

“I don’t get that many patients. You get sliced up or broken bones though? I'm who you want to see.” You’ve always been a damn good doctor, something about putting parts together had always appealed to you. So much so that you’d been thought of as a freak as a child, fascinated by death and diseases because in your mind if you understood what caused it maybe you could fix it before it was too late.

“Sounds a bit like boasting? You got a trick or two up your sleeve or something?” Looking at you, you can’t help but notice he’s good-looking. Like damn good-looking. Except you don’t get a chance to watch for too long before he starts moving forward and a leisurely pace and you follow with much smaller tentative steps.

“No. Sadly. I was sort of an oddball growing up.” You aren’t sure why you’re telling him this as you keep your eyes downward so you don’t fall, maybe some part of you still thinks this is a dream or a nightmare. That might better explain the handsome white-haired man who came to your rescue. He also seems to have a really nice butt under his jacket when the breeze lifts it and your eyes follow the fluttering of the material. “I didn’t have friends till medical school, most kids thought I was a freak because I was into biology. Like finding dead birds and trying to figure out what happened to them kind of biology because the teachers thought eight-year-olds shouldn’t be studying cardiology.”

“Eight huh? What you had a strange fascination with death?” Straddling the gap from one roof to the next you’re a little surprised when he turns and holds out a hand for you to take and help you across.

“Yes and no. I wanted to help people.” Shrugging as you took one of his hands and didn’t fail to miss the warmth that spread from him. “If I had a better understanding of how people’s bodies worked I just figured I could help them survive if they came to me for treatment. All my life I wanted to be a doctor.” Once on the other side, he gave a huff before spinning to step across himself.

“How’d your parents feel about that?” This roof is flatter and you find yourself watching him as you walk instead of the tiles under your feet.

“I only had my mother.” Shrugging your shoulders “She just cared that I didn’t draw attention to myself. Otherwise, she didn’t care much.” Biting your lip a little but everything you’ve said while you’ve been chatty isn’t any new information about you. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I guess also being turned into a human meat kabob will do that to you. What was that thing anyway?” You swallow down the bile starting to burn in your throat, you’re really hoping he doesn’t say what you think he’s going to say.

“A demon.” Well, that hope was dashed spectacularly. “You know for a doctor you’re a little slow on the uptake.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to think of a more rational explanation.” Too bad you’re brain isn’t coming up with anything. Waving your hands in the air yourself in exasperation as you wave at the city. “I get that this place says that some demon guy named Sparda ruled here, but that sounds more like a legend that a religion sprang up around.”

“Sorry Doc, world doesn’t work like th- Get down!” You don’t have time to process his words when his hand planting itself in the middle of your back and pushing you down to the ground. The sound of metal on metal has you lifting your head only to regret that decision. If this man in red hadn’t of shoved you to the ground you’d have had your head removed from your shoulders, his sword scraping along the metal blade of another of those strange scarecrow monsters. This time it’s on its arm instead of its leg.

It isn’t alone either. More scarecrows with blades for limbs had appeared.

“Do me a favor Doc?” A twist of his wrist and you watch as the sword he wields sends the blade attached to the demon flying upward and slices the thing in half. “Go hide.”

You heard him. You really did. Too bad your arms and legs don’t want to listen to your brain screaming at them to move so you can scramble to safety. It’s like there’s ice flowing through your veins and slowing you down as the fear has your heart thundering in your chest.

Another of the demons lets out that manica laughter as it sees you lying there helpless. It hops from side to side almost gleefully before launching forward with its bladed foot held out as if to lance you like a boil. A clang of metal as a boot lands in front of your face to meet the demon and with a pivot of his upper body you watch as it slices through his forearm, only for the man to snap his wrist as he grabs the demon and it’s cackling suddenly stops like it’s surprised. The creak of the leather of the belts across his chest and you can see the ripple of his muscles as turns his wrist and sends the demon flying off to slam into one of its compatriots and knocks both of them into a wall. A sickening thunk as both bodies flatten as if they’ve been deflated before they fade before your eyes.

“Doc.” Looking up to see the man grinding his teeth as he stares down at you. “Move!” Bellowing you finally find your hands moving pushing yourself up to your knees and scrambling to hide behind a chimney as the sound of clanging metal rings around you. It’s not dignified and your bag is bouncing against your back but you’re trying to get away from the sound of fighting and hiding just like he had told you to.

Another sickening sound, this time like a sac of fluid bursting open reaches you and you whimper, hands over your ears and tears running down your face. Why the hell is this happening? Where did they come from? As much as you might have wanted to refuse it, you need to face facts. Demons are real and you might not survive the rest of today at his rate.

Screaming when a hand pats your shoulder only to have a hand press against it, a leather-clad hand. You hadn't even noticed the sound of fighting had stopped and you doubted it had anything to do with your hands as your fear dulled your senses. “Doc, you’re alright.” Opening your eyes you see the man there crouched in front of you and for the first time you see a hint of compassion in his pale blue eyes. “I need you to not scream when I take my hand away. Can you do that?” That compassion is undercut by the exasperation in his voice.

Swallowing you nod slowly removing your hands from your ears as he lets you go and runs his hand through his white locks sighing before looking at you again. “You really are out of your depth ain’t cha Doc.” It’s not a question, just an admission that this is not you’re everyday normal.

“If I said I was starting to believe demons are real would that help?” Lifting your sleeve to wipe at the dampness on your face. “I’m probably going to get us both killed aren’t I?” Twice now he’s saved you, and twice all you did was freeze in place too overtaken by fear to move.

Internally Dante was sighing, the last encounter proved you really had no idea about demons and he was starting to think you were just a pawn on the board for something the Order was planning. ‘Guess I owe Lady that twenty bucks. This chick has no idea about demons forgetting being an actress and playing along. You can’t hide a reaction like hers.’ He needed to get her to Lady so he could move on with trying to figure out where the Yamato was and get this stranger doctor out of harm's way. Patting her shoulder he just sent her a smirk. “Both of us? Nah. I’m hard to kill.” Based on your reaction to his words that might not have been the best answer. “I’ve got a friend nearby, she’ll look after you alright. We just need to get to the hill outside the castle. Can you move?”

As his hand goes to help you up you find yourself moving on instinct. Grabbing his arm between both of yours, in your panic you’d forgotten he’d been sliced. “Right. You got hurt because of me, let me at least patch you up?” A quirk of your lips as you reached for your bag only to stop, watching as the wound sealed up and you felt your stomach drop. “That’s…” Trailing off for him to take over.

“Not normal.”

“What” Your eyebrows are furrowing as you push and prod at his skin, minus the blood there’s no sign he had ever been hurt. “Are you?”

“Well, you could say I’m a little on the demonic side.” Flashing you a wink with a flirtatious smile that showed his pearly whites. “And not just in the sheets.”

“I… I think I’d like to get moving again before I pass out again.” He has to be joking. He just has to be, and you let him help you to your feet before the two of you start walking again. Internally you're freaking out over what you saw but you know you don't have time for hysterics, or passing out again from the panic. Your broad knight seems content to ignore you for the moment and you think it's for the best, both of you moving in silence along the rooftops until your feet start to hurt from all the maneuvering along the roofs of the town.

At least until he sends you a steady stare after looking behind the two of you for a while with a frown. “Hate to say it Doc, but we’re starting to have a crowd trying to join this party. How do you feel about being carried out of here since we’re almost there?”

Dante hadn’t been willing to risk it earlier, just carrying you to Lady while you’d been passed out. Too much of a chance of you being in on whatever the Order was up to, now that was gone from his mind and he needed to get you out of the picture.

“Like a sac of Potoes again?” He can’t help but laugh at your deadpan voice and expression.

“No. A real carry this time.” Wiggling his eyebrows at you just gets him a snort in response but you do nod. In a moment he’s got you in his arms, one around your shoulders and the other under your knees. “Alright Doc, I recommend you put those arms around my neck and don’t look down. I’d hate for you to freak out like earlier.”

“Right.” You do as he says, and it takes everything inside of you not to scream as he starts running and jumping. You’re a little glad you’d had a light lunch or it would have been spat all over his front, keeping your eyes squeezed shut and tucking your face more into his body. If you hadn’t been worried about dying you might have enjoyed it a little more.

At the sudden stop, you almost hurl, feeling the contents of your stomach start to climb your throat slapping a hand over your mouth as the white-haired man places you on your feet once more. “Lady!” Yea almost was a dream as soon as you take a step, running to the side of a tree and emptying your stomach. “You here?”

“Sheesh, you trying to bring every demon nearby down on us?” You can hear a newcomer but you’re too busy throwing up to pay any more attention than that to what they’re saying.

Watching Lady point towards you before lowering her shades. “Is that her? She doesn't look like much let alone someone like you.”

“It is, in all her pukey glory.” Crossing his arms to watch her Dante can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way she’s bent over. If it wasn’t for her throwing up he’d be enjoying the sight of her shapely rear stuck up in the air. “You were right by the way. Cept, she doesn’t have a clue. Almost got skewed twice.”

“And you saved her? My my, what a knight in shining armor you are today.” Ignoring the woman still retching the contents of her stomach for a moment before lowering her voice. “Trish made contact, she doesn’t know the details but the Order is looking for her. Apparently, she’s important for something, and the orders include keeping her in the dark about whatever it is. They’ve also sent some kid after you, using the excuse that you kidnapped her and killed that Vicar.”

“If they need her they should have done a better job looking after her, she was hiding in her office with a desk against the door when I found her.” Watching you stand Dante had to swallow, you were pretty easy on the eyes even if you were wiping your mouth with the back of your hand while still leaning against the tree.

“Could it have been an act?”

“Trust me, if she’s acting she should have a couple of awards for it.” Done with whispering he raised his voice just enough for you to hear him. “Hey Doc. This is Lady, do me a favor and give her a hard time alright?” Starting to walk away before flicking his fingers at Lady. “Oh and Lady, be nice to the Doc. She’s had a rough day, almost died twice.”

“Wait!” You jog towards the man in the red coat only for him to start to take off. “I didn’t get your name!”

“Dante!” Called over his shoulder before to your amazement he drops off the edge of the hill and you find your eyes going as wide as saucers.

“Did he”

“Just jump off a cliff? Yes. That man is more dumbass than brains some days, but when you’re the son of the legendary Sparda I guess you have to put on a show to live up to the name.” Feeling a hand patting your shoulder you’re surprised to see a water bottle being held out towards you.

Taking a sip from the bottle after snapping the seal you start sputtering. “Did you just say the son of Sparda?” As the woman’s words process and you stare at her, only to see her grin like the cat with the canary. “As in the dark knight Sparda that this town worships as God?” At her nod, the world feels like it’s spinning and you drop unceremoniously to the ground. “He’s real. And I met his son. Wait his son?” Wiping your head upwards to see the woman known as Lady looking down at you.

“Oh, do I have a story for you. You pretty little thing.” Winking at you and all you can think is how you might need to throw up again. Fuck. Demons and Sparda are real. And you just spend most of the last few hours checking out his son's butt.

Chapter one

#dante devil may cry #dmc5 #dante x reader #dante x you #dmc 4 #devil may cry #dante #dante sparda #x reader #twink writes #eventual smut #eventual romance

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gayfandomnerd225 · 2 months

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Pt. 16 of Dead Poets Society Headcanons

Them as parents (single)

Neil

He’s trying to make up for being a single dad so he’s a good dad

The freezer almost always has ice cream in it, and he lets the kid eat it after dinner most nights

He doesn’t tell his kid much about his childhood, he just wants his kids childhood to be better than his was

He wants to be a better dad than his dad was

And he does a great job

He takes his kids to play dates, theatre shows, he doesn’t force his kid to do anything the kid doesn’t want to

He tucks his kid in every night and gives him a kiss on the forehead

He keeps them company when they’re sick and home from school, which means he gets sick too, but it’s worth it

Todd

Todd is an anxious parent (unsurprisingly)

He wants to let his kid enjoy themselves but he’s generally nervous about letting them have sleepovers and play dates

He tries to loosen up but the anxieties still there, he just ignores it most of the time

His kid is a lot like him tho, so it’s not too bad

Eventually he decides to take both him and his kid to therapy

And they both get diagnosed with anxiety

Then they both get put on anxiety meds

And then they start living a bit more freely, less anxious about everything like they used to be

Todd lets his kid have playdates and his kid manages to make a few friends

Charlie

Charlie’s a fun parent (which came as a surprise to no one)

He takes his kid to have play dates and even tho he’s a working dad, he’s a banker, he makes sure to make time for his kid

He’s a good influence, he’s nice to his nanny and tries his best to teach his kid manners

He’s a patient parent, and finally understand why he could’ve been considered insufferable when he was younger

On the weekends he takes his kid to the beach or museums, he wants his kid to be cultured and know things

Pitts

Pitts is a gentle parent

He read a lot of parents books before having a kid

He’s a careful and conscientious parent

Picking the kid up from school and helping with homework when he can

He tries his best to let his kid enjoy themself

Buying them music and even signing them up for piano lessons

He goes to every piano lesson and concert and loves every minute of it

After the concerts he takes his kid to get ice cream or another treat

Meeks

He’s also a gentle parent

He was nervous at first about being a single parent

But something about seeing the kid made him soften

And make him realize that things would be alright

His kid is his rock

He likes dressing his kid up in silly little outfits with bow ties and fun socks

Knox

Knox is probably a bit too careless when it comes to his kid

It’s not that he doesn’t care

He just feels like his kid should figure things out on their own

Like how peanut butter and cheese whiz probably isn’t a good combo

Or how staying up late watching tv probably isn’t a good idea

His kid lives freely, coming in covered in mud and needing to get a bath

Cameron

Cameron tries not to be too strict

He knows and understand where his dad went, not wrong, but where he had troubles

And he tries to not be like his dad

But there’s some things that’s just stick

Like having a strict bedtime or being careful when his kid wants a play date or sleepover

But he still lets his kid enjoy themselves

He’s just a bit more careful about it

He reads to his kid every night

Mostly poetry, and when his kid has questions about it, he answers as best he can

He tells his kid stories about Welton, mostly about Keating and the Dead Poets

#dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dps fandom #dps #neil perry #dps boys #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #knox overstreet #dps headcanons #dead poets headcanons

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iceeericeee · 8 months

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Welcome! Come in, sit down. We're all friends here. There’s pot brownies and weed sandwiches to help you relax. I’m Iceeericeee, but I generally go by Toast, or Cinnamon Buttered Strawberry Toast if you want to use my full name. I may be aroace, but I can appreciate a pretty face. I’m 19, but I don’t feel it </3. Every once in a while I’ll make my own post, or even a poll if I have a question I’m dying to know the answer to, so look out for those. My pronouns are whichever one suits the gag better (I’m not super hung up on pronouns) and hummus. Fandoms? A decent amount, so I’ll make a list.

Psych (side blog is @thespiritssaidso)

Night at the Museum

Marvel (every once in a while) (side blog is @marveeelriceee)

Hermitcraft (also every once in a while, but mostly just Grian and Mumbo Jumbo)

Helluva Boss + Hazbin Hotel (Side Blog is @helluva-hazbean-hotel

Good omens (side blog is @imaziraphalesbookshop)

Percy Jackson (and all of the books that take place in the same universe) (side blog is @peeercyriceee)

A Series of Unfortunate Events (THE BOOKS. NOT THE SHOW.) (once again, every once in a while)

Gravity Falls (it’s been a while tho, so my memory is rusty)

The Iron Giant

The Owl House (it's been a hot sec since i've seen it tho)

Dr. Who (currently watching it for the first time tho so I’m a lil behind)

I also write poetry and short stories every once in a while! I post on here and on AO3 (url is Isolation68). If you want me to write something specific, go ahead and ask (and put a 🖋️ next to it). Just no smut please, it makes me uncomfortable. Whether I answer it or not depends on how much your ask inspires me.

side-account for reblogs is @iceeericeee-reblogs (I know so creative lmao)

DNI if you are a hater or terf

DO NOT REBLOG THIS!!

Also: I’m literally begging you guys. Please please please stop asking when I’m going to change my name to strawberry. It’s gotten really old really fast. I’m just going to delete any asks that are about my name change.

#intro ig

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bangtanhoneys · 6 months

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GRACE TOUR DIARY: March 25th 2025 - Los Angeles

It was nice to spend the money not having to rush. Grace was currently lounging in her bed in her suite, on one of the floors of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. She could already hear Sejin on the phone, hear the bustle of make-up artists and hair stylists clearing up the stations from the past few days. Her suite had become ‘Queen HQ,’ having taken on another Queen name like her team had - here talks were done about interviews, schedules checked, last-minute costume checks and the like.

But after tonight, she would be heading on a private plane and heading to Chicago. More interviews, photoshoots, meeting some important people, her concert and then she was off to New York. It was a whirlwind of noise and lack of time - how everything was scheduled to the last minute, trying to cram as much in as possible without overdoing it.

So far, each concert had been met with amazing reviews apart from the good few who were claiming she was nothing without BTS and just another singer who thought they could pull it off. Her numbers so far were totalling 66,000 if everyone attended tonight’s concert.

She had also seen the guest list for the VIPs tonight - Beyonce being one of them which made her stomach twist with nerves. One of the biggest artists of all time was coming to see her. The Kardashians were also in attendance, Harry Styles and the list went even longer than that.

With a deep sigh, Grace threw back the covers and went to take her shower.

The set list ran through her head, her body doing the dance moves but smaller in the shower and she was singing along to 7 Rings as she got dressed, twisting her wet hair into a messy bun for it to be dealt with later. Her mind then went to Chicago, then New York and then she would fly back to Seoul for another important performance.

If any solo career had looked simple, Grace’s had looked complicated.

Everything planned and prepared in secret, from early 2023 right through to her birthday last year when the album had been announced, her tour announcement, the mini album and then her first tour date. Yet in between all that, she was meeting designers, doing interviews to be released later on, making plans for later on.

Always later on.

Never once interfering with her boys’ plans.

That had been the major rule: whatever the boys wanted to do, it was going to come first.

She had been there for nearly all of it and she had seen all the good and the bad, she had seen what worked and what kind of didn’t. She had been behind the scenes of all of Jungkook’s GOLDEN album and his promotion for it. And by the time she had been ready to put her own on display, she had a very good idea of what she knew what was going to work.

Interviews in England, rather than America as they could wait till her tour, focus on Europe as well as Australia and New Zealand even though her tour wouldn’t be going there mainly due to time.

And cross fingers, her solo career had been somewhat of an success.

“Morning,” she said as she went into the dining area of the suite and flicked the kettle on.

“Morning,” various voices came back to her.

“Grace, what do you think about doing a pre-recorded performance for iHeart Radio Awards?” Sejin asked, flicking through some paper while typing something on his laptop.

“Do we have time for that?” she asked, adding two sugars to her tea and a good splash of milk. “When is it?”

“Award show is on the 27th but it could be recorded while we’re in Los Angeles, we just delay heading to Chicago until the filming is done. The Grammy Museum have given us permission to use their rooftop venue as well,” Sejin read from the email and glanced over.

Grace paused. She knew it would be a good opportunity and she knew it wouldn’t have been asked of her to do it if they didn’t think it she could do it yet they only had a day to do it, even that.

“Is it my songs or BTS?”

“They want you do 7 Rings and then Butter,” Sejin replied.

Another pause.

“Okay, let’s do it. See if we mix the two so they can flow together - I’ll use one of the tour costumes that we haven’t used yet for the show and we just need seven dancers so see if anyone is up for doing this, the rest and the rest of the time can fly out to Chicago to get started on rehearsals. Interviews and everything else, well let’s see what time we can get out of L.A.”

She must have been mad.

By the time she got the concert venue, her mind had switched off to what else was going on and focused on the concert ahead of her. BTS and TXT songs were playing around the arena and outside where people were already waiting, hoping to catch a glance of celebrities.

A quick change into her gym clothes, Grace made her way to where they had set up a small gym area with a BANGTAN BOMB camera following her. She had a quick laugh with the camerawoman before the filming started. “So, you want to know my tips for how I can sing and dance and run all at the same time?” Grace grinned at the camera, which ‘nodded.’

“Here’s is the secret technique - pick a song that’s really going to make you sing and then get on the treadmill,” Grace said as she flicked through the music choices on her phone that was connected to the speakers. Outro: Ego started as Grace set the treadmil to a slow walk then just as Hobi started, she had broken out into a jog.

It was quite impressive to watch her sing along, all the while building up her speed until it got to the chorus where she started doing the choreography albeit not to the full extent as she was stuck on the treadmil.

They still had a few hours left until the concert so a run through was planned, to go over niggles from the night before which was mostly blocking and making the volume loud enough for everyones in-ears.

By the time they were done and back stage getting changed, Staples Centre was open and filling up.

“Los Angeles night two - let’s go out there and show Queen B that she is amazing and we love her,” Grace said as she was surrounded by her dancers who all laughed. “Okay, just half joking. BANG,” she left it off as her dancers followed with “TAN” as they lifted their hands.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could replace hearing the crowd lose their absolute shit as the VCR played and the beginning beats of 7 Ring. Her female dancers glanced at each other then her, grinning and nodding their heads before they were lifted up.

SO MANY ARMY BOMBS!

Even in the VIP area, she could see them and it lit up the whole crowd as the colours changed to the beat. They were constantly out, even when VCR’s played so they could do costume changes and the cheers never stopped. Neither did the singing.

“Los Angeles, it’s been an absolute pleasure to be with you tonight,” Grace started out on the main stage, dressing in her outro gear to finish up the concert. “Thank you for being an amazing crowd, you’ve certainly outdid yourselves from last night. If you could put down your ARMY bombs for second,” Grace paused and watched with a fond smile as every single one dropped out of sight.

“How many of you out there are BTS fans?”

The whole crowd lit up again, screams were heard and then the screaming got louder the moment Dimple was played. Three male dancers joined her on stage, dressed similar to what the boys had worn and even though she was singing in Korean, she swore she could hear the crowd singing along.

By the time she got to Dangerous Woman, got to thank everyone and bow to the crowd, the screams had not stopped. They were still going as she climbed down the few steps off the stage, Sejin there with a bottle of water.

And he did something he rarely did.

He hugged her.

“I’m very proud of you,” he said as he let her go to wrap the dressing gown around her shoulders tightly. “We all are.”

It took awhile to get back to her hotel after removing her costumes, make up and washing her hair and then getting through the traffic. The moment she got through her hotel door, staff had left her lamps on for her and on the coffee table was a large bouquet of pink roses.

‘I’ll be seeing you soon

Jinnie x’

#bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts eighth member #bts female member #bts fic #bts fanfiction #gracechu

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celestialspecial · 8 months

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Vibrantly Hidden

Synopsis: Lydia has been forced to return home to live with her sisters. The well of magick runs deep in her family, despite her best efforts to avoid that aspect of herself. But strange things are afoot in the town of Crystal Falls and in order to figure out these bizarre happenings she must work alongside her enemy from a rival coven-Billy Russo.

Authors Notes: This story has been my passion project as of late and something that I maybe hope to turn into something real and tangible one day. As a special thanks for all your support I want to share it with you first :) The title is still in the works as I explore other options- input is very welcome on it!

Warnings: 18+, Witchcraft and Magick, Some horror elements, graphic descriptions, smut (use your own discernment)

Chapter One: Click your heels together three times

There were few things I’m certain of in life.

Never conjure when angry or when the moon is waning.

River spirits never forget a bargain spurned.

The Russo Coven couldn’t be trusted.

It was the near end of august, September rode in on the back of a cool breeze and yellow tinged leaves.

Sipping a slightly-too salty margarita on a wine bar patio, the glass sweating despite the soft breeze.

While most people were excited about autumn and all the treats the “-Ber months brought I couldn’t help but feel a pit of sadness at the thought of summer ending.

Ignoring reality had been my personal goal for the season and I’d done it so well. Books by the pool, painting sessions on the beach(with all the retired folks), hikes along trails covered in moss and jagged stones.

Sipping cocktails on patios like this, savoring the complex flavors and picking at charcuterie boards with cheeses whos names I butchered while ordering.

I was living the life. But with each passing day I knew I couldn’t ignore it for much longer.

After budget cuts, my position at the local art museum was no longer “essential”. Having a background in art history left one wanting for jobs in a bad way.

I should be grateful for the job posting my older sister Elizabeth had sent but when I saw it conveniently was at the local college back home I couldn’t conceal the anxiety taking root in my chest.

I’d applied haphazardly, fully anticipating another, “thank you for your interest- we’ve decided to move ahead with other candidates.”

But when I saw the “we’d love to have you come on board!” Intro line I knew my fate had been sealed.

I needed this job.

It wouldn’t be so bad living back at home for a little while until another opportunity came along, right?

My younger sister Emily was ecstatic. It almost broke my heart a little to imagine telling her I didn’t quite feel the same amount of eagerness.

I’d moved away because I wanted to feel free, to see what my life could be outside of the confines of my hometown. Outside of what I was.

I had needed space. Space in the form of multiple hundreds of miles away.

Most people grow up playing on swing sets and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Growing up in a family of witches, is something entirely different.

When you’re young and impressionable the idea of having powers, knowing there’s more to life than what most others know. It can feel feel empowering.

To me it was daunting. Exhausting. It’s not all hocus pocus and fun spellbooks or brewing potions.

I didn’t want to be me. I wanted something else.

Something normal.

The Dawson name was well known and revered in the town of Crystal Falls. We’d been here since the town was christened along with a few other families.

There’d been a Dawson Mayor, Head of the newspaper, a few doctors, even a sheriff.

If only the upstanding community was aware that the Dawson name was a coven. Not just your run of the mill one, but powerful witches, dating back centuries.

The town today had no idea that witches had laid claim to this land so many years ago.

It’s not something one can post on social media. After the debacle in Salem all the smart actual witches branched off. Some migrated to the Midwest, others searched for the west coast.

The Dawson’s had gone upwards along the east coast, becoming almost nomadic in nature until settling into a small village, close to the ocean but gently tucked into a blanket of forest.

A river cut through town giving a grand display of multiple waterfalls that ended at the nearby beach.

If you caught one of the large celestial events of comets or a grandiose full moon the river and falls seemed to glimmer and glow, taking on an ethereal hue.

Hence the name- Crystal Falls.

Our family had helped imbue protective barriers around the town alongside the Russo coven. Another family of warlocks that had also managed to stumble upon this area.

It was beautiful and charged with an uncontained wild nature that must’ve called to our ancestors in some way. And above all else- it was home.

Me and my sisters had been raised by our aunt and grandmother after our parents died when we were young.

It had been labeled an accident. Driving through the mountainous terrain to reach town was dangerous even during the brightest of days.

But there had been signs, too many for our families liking, to chalk it up to merely an accident. There were too many “magickal” elements at play to ignore.

The brand new car losing control, the large tree having conveniently fallen, after the too conspicuous lightning strike and torrential storm appearing on an otherwise clear meteorological prediction.

I tried not to think of it too long, for fear of losing myself in the grief. Too afraid of falling into the whirlpool of those feelings and drowning, never to be seen again.

“Would you like another?” The waitress asked, taking away my now empty margarita glass.

“Yes please, actually do you have anything remaining from the seasonal menu?”

“Sorry, we just finished the last of the summer sangria but we do have our fall menu out! Fig spritzer with sugared thyme and a pumpkin spice bourbon.”

Another nail in the coffin. Summer was over and I needed to face the reality of my impending trip back home. Whether I liked it or not.

Picking some random Chardonnay off the menu in silent rebellion to their fall drinks I feel a tingle in my left pinkie.

I recognize that feeling. It appears when I’m sad. Or stressed. Or angry. Sometimes when I’m happy.

I’ll be watching a Netflix show and laughing so hard on my sofa and then I feel the tingling sensation in my fingertips.

Like dipping my fingers into super icy water then immediately into hot boiling water. I catch it and breathe into the feeling.

Willing it to stop.

Some tries take longer than others. Over the years I’ve managed to muffle that part of me that yearns to escape.

A rabid dog locked in a basement waiting for the caretaker to get sloppy, lazy. Bursting past the seam of the door and bounding freely into the night.

Not today. One day perhaps. I shudder thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just the breeze, goose bumps break out along my arms and chest.

Eventually after some practiced breathing I feel the tiny reverberations cease. Returning from whence they came.

Boy how I am not looking forward to going home.

The drive back home was a scenic four hour trek through mountains and forestry that could make any camper or hiking enthusiast’s mouth water.

I’d lost count over the years how many scenic overlooks dotted the area and if there was a drinking game involving shots every time a quaint picturesque New England type village popped up on google maps one would quickly die of alcohol poisoning.

“What do you want for dinner?” Elizabeth’s text pinged on my phone that was propped on the dash hastily.

“So excited!!!!” Emily responded not two seconds later. The age dynamics were far too apparent.

I couldn’t help but grin, I loved my sisters I really do, but it’s been so long since I’d lived with them.

Elizabeth came into her magic first- understandably so, being the oldest. Grandma was so proud, seeing Lizzy carry on the Dawson legacy.

“Easy Em”

“Sorry! Sorry! Drive safe!”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling a little as I turned onto another mountain path. This added time to my trip but I just …couldn’t bring myself to take the other route. Not yet.

After another hour or so of driving I finally saw the sign for Crystal Falls, keep right for 30 miles.

A crusted slab of wood with paint peeling off of it. Emerald green and white swirls of paint beckoning any passerby to stop.

It didn’t pass my notice that a handful of trees had leaves tinged in orange, a few scattered red bursts.

Traitors.

It would be beautiful. The kiss of death to summer and its green tinged warmth. I’d even miss the bugs.

Turning down the Main Street there was a constant stream of activity. People walking in and out of shops, visitors milling around the welcome center, campers clearly here for the upcoming fall foliage unfurling comically large maps of the cave systems.

There was a gazebo at the town center, a la Gilmore girls Stars Hollow that was always decorated according to season.

I said a silent prayer of thanks seeing the sunflowers still adorning it and not hay bales and pumpkins.

Festive mums sat in fat glazed pots in front of the stores. I rolled my windows down to inhale the smell of home.

Wondering if it’d smell like how I remembered. Fresh flowers, sweet honeysuckle and that tell tale pinch of chill.

Tree branches swayed overhead with the seasonal breeze. Yellowed leaves broke off of a nearby oak and scattered into the street.

I watched as a gaggle of school girls walked over them, crunching them into the pavement without a thought.

Turning off the main causeway and into the more scenic countryside where a few vineyards with their adjoining wineries sat.

Moon Brew Farm with their delicious peach wine. Cats Tail Vineyard that created a bubbly moscato with hints of fresh blackberry.

I could feel my mouth water just imagining it, that full mouth feel. Fizzing bubbles popping on my tongue and chasing it with a panini whose sides runneth over in pale cheese.

My stomach gurgled, begging for food. I had only stopped at a Wendy’s on the way since the McDonald’s drive through had a line longer than I cared to sit in.

The remnants of a devoured chicken sandwich rested on my center console. The paper still flecked with grease and a loose pickle that somehow managed to escape my mouth.

I passed a large estate off to the left. A high arched gate cutting the drive off at the main road. The stone pillar at the end read, “Russo.” Engraved into a black marble plaque.

I drove by, right hand on the wheel, left out the window in an honorary “one finger salute ” at the disgusting excuse for a castle marring our town.

Dirt billowed behind my rickety Subaru as I finally ambled onto a gravel driveway. The popping sound of rocks being shot out from underneath my tires like rapid shrapnel alerted the ladies inside.

“Lydia!” Emily was the first to run out, screen door slamming shut into Elizabeth’s face as she jumped the porch steps completely.

Lizzy scowled, pushing the screen door out of her way like it owed her money.

“Em, what the hell?”

I tossed my car in park just in time to see Emily’s grinning face and fists tapping at my window like a madwoman.

“Can you give me like a second?” I managed a laugh, popping the door open only to be tackled in a rib cage smushing embrace.

“I missed you! So-o-o-o-o much!” Each ‘o’ was accompanied by a sway of our bodies back and forth.

Elizabeth finally reached us, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Bet you missed this.” She joked, gesturing to Emily who had wedged her face into my shoulder.

“Shuff-Upf” came Emily’s muffled response as she refused to let go. Maybe she was afraid I’d disintegrate, that I was some clever illusion instead of actually being here in the flesh.

“Missed you-“ I gave a genuine, albeit weary smile to my older sister, somehow untangling a limb to motion her into the bear hug going on.

“So glad to see you.” She relented, easing into the sister shuffle.

It felt nice. I hadn’t stopped so much to reminisce on these things when I was away. I did miss them. I did miss home. I just didn’t miss what home had meant to me for so long.

Eventually Emily peeled herself off of me and dragged me into the house, not pausing even when I nearly tripped on the porch steps.

“Luggage can wait for later!” She had stated. Dinner was ready and honestly I just wanted to unwind and zone out into a pile of amazing food.

Elizabeth and Emily got the cooking gene from our mother. I got my fathers gene of enjoying said cooking.

Chicken pot pie with a flaky crust, yams coated in golden butter, green beans sautéed with almonds and pepper and a peach cobbler with succulent fruit from the local farmers market.

“I still can’t believe you’re home and not just for a vacation but like, for good.” Emily twisted her fork into the leftover cobbler morsels, licking a crumb from her thumb.

“Not for good, just…for now.”

Elizabeth nodded sagely, catching my hesitation and being kind enough to change the subject.

“How was the drive?”

“Not bad.” I spooned a piece of chicken coated in sauce onto my plate as Elizabeth took another bite of green beans. “I see tons of campers are already here. Don’t they know it’ll be weeks until fall foliage actually appears?”

“The mayor has been trying to push for more summer into fall events to draw in the crowds.”

“Yeah Elizabeth’s boyfriend has really been overhauling the event planning thing.”

“He is NOT my boyfriend.” Her cheeks turned almost as red as her hair. “It’s about time we had a member of the council actually give a shit about our town and its livelihood.”

Emily dramatically sighed, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyelashes. “Yes whatever would we do without dear Sebastyan.”

“The crab?” I smirked, reaching my fork towards another yam. Lizzy pulled the plate away giving me that older sister, raised eyebrow look. It spelled out “watch it” clear enough for me to relent.

“Don’t you start with me.”

Dinner wraps up with each of us carrying a Handful of dirty dishes into the kitchen. Piled high into the sink with an unspoken agreement to get to them tomorrow.

I watch the two of them joke and share inside info about their planned week ahead. Things I’d know if I lived here. Schedules that would make sense to me but are now new and unknown.

The two of them continue their conversation as I teeter my messy plate on top of an empty glass that once contained a milkshake. It feels weird to hear their voices in person again. The last time I was home was maybe two years ago? For Christmas?

Elizabeth is just as elegant as I remember. Tall, long red hair swept up into a modest pony tail. Barely a smudge of makeup on her but soft pale skin with a dash of freckles across her high cheekbones.

I remember standing on my tippy toes when we were little, getting measured against the doorframe, hoping and praying I’d grow as tall as my older sister.

Fate didn’t pay attention to my pleas. My body threw in the towel the minute I struck 5’3”. Cruel, if I’m being honest. She whisks about the kitchen making a funny face at something Emily said.

It feels like I’m in a fishbowl, hearing noises, knowing someone is speaking but it just sounds muffled and foreign to me. Like I’m not really here.

Emily makes another comment that pulls a laugh from Elizabeth. Emily has always been a lightning bolt. Even when she was a child. Her hair is cut into a blunt bob with thick heavy bangs. It’s dyed a dark brown that almost matches her hot chocolate colored eyes.

She’s maybe an inch shorter than me, a rarity in our family that the oldest sibling is actually the tallest. My younger sister however has a face full of makeup. It never looks to be too much, always tastefully done and complimenting her features.

They’ve changed so much and not at all from when I last saw them. From the pictures I’d had hanging in my apartment that now sit in a storage facility.

I feel the bubbling tightness in my chest and I’m yanked from my misty eyed staring. Being around them, their energy, I can feel parts of me clawing to get out. Like taking a spray bottle to a pesky cat, I shove it down.

Emily turned in first, working at a bakery requires her to be up before the sun. She gives me a quick hug once more.

“I really am excited you’re home…for however long.” Before starting up the stairs, sounds of the shower turning on and soft lilting singing to some show tune carries throughout the halls.

“Wine?” Elizabeth holds a glass up with a bottle of cherry wine, the deep scarlet liquid looks intoxicating.

“Please.”

We retreat to the porch as the last rays of sunset disappear behind the trees leaving that unsettling light blue that comes before navy then black.

The old rocking chairs groan as we take our seats. The sound the cork popping makes echoes throughout the woods surrounding the house.

I never forgot how quiet it gets. The crickets had just started their nightly serenade and a few owl hoots call out from a distance.

She pours me a hefty glass of the wine, handing it to me as we both delicately lean forward in our rickety chairs, balancing bottle and glasses.

Dozens of long shadows climb out from all around us. Reaching towards the front steps and skittering along the warped floorboards.

If I close my eyes it feels like I can even hear them calling out to me. Where have you been? Why have you been gone so long?

Every leaf, branch, blade of grass blending together to create large charcoal swaths against the forest floor. It both chills and excites me.

“It is nice, ya know? To have you home for more than four days at a time.”

I feel myself shaken from my stupor. Mind slowly drifting back to where it’s supposed to be in the present. On the porch. With my sister.

For the first time in years.

“You say that now since I’ve only been here for a few hours.” I take a long sip of the wine and let the fruity flavors dance on my tongue.

“I’m serious.” I hear her rocker stop creaking, her eyes focused on me. Like burning sapphires. I’d always been jealous of her eyes. “I think this…this will be good for all of us.”

I watch her take a drink before continuing, “We have a lot to catch up on.”

I ponder in silence, running my fingertip along the wine glass’ lip. For a little there’s only the sound of our rockers moving back and forth.

Occasionally I’ll hear the sounds of Emily getting ready for bed upstairs. A single car drives past on the road, far enough we can’t make it out save for the headlights.

The vibrant ripples of yellow cutting through the trees then fading into the distance. The trees gobble up the remaining light.

“How’s work been?”

Elizabeth smiles, pouring a little more wine into her cup. I notice as she sips deeply, letting her eyelids drift shut, pondering how to respond.

“It’s been good. I travel a little for work more now than usual but it’s ok. Rewarding.”

“I couldn’t do it. Be a midwife.” She nodded thoughtfully at my comment, staring off into the ever darkening tree line.

The moon is out, but I watch as it quickly becomes obscured by passing clouds.

“It can be tough, but I have this gift. It feels selfish to not use it. At least in a way that brings purpose to my life.”

I found myself nodding and staring off as well. Elizabeth is a healer, ever since she was little she had a knack for it. Never getting colds, being able to concoct awful tasting potions that somehow worked and cured a multitude of things.

Every witch can do basic magic but more often than not, there’s a specialty. A gift that is unique to that person.

Some people get lucky with theirs. Others not so much.

“You can go on the road with it. Really explore your options.”

“I do have over a hundred 5 star yelp reviews.” She grinned toasting her glass to the air.

“Elizabeth Dawson-“ I held my hand in front of me, punctuating gestures as if reading a headline, “Midwife To The Stars!”

We both giggled and took another sip after sloppily ‘cheers-ing’.

“Ahhhh I don’t know if California or New York is for me.” She chuckled, twisting a strand of her dark red hair held by her ponytail.

I settle back into my seat, rocking back and forth, pushing with my heels and feeling the entirety of my foot flatten then pitch back.

“Soooo Sebastyan?”

“Don’t start with me already.” Liz smirked at me, dipping her fingers in the wine glass and flicking a few drops in my direction.

Maybe this was ok. Maybe this would be ok.

How silly and naïve I was.

After half an hour of sitting on the porch and enjoying the entire bottle of wine, the sky had fully morphed from navy to inky black. The local owl continued to hoot, a rhythmic sound that I could feel myself drifting off too.

Elizabeth had already placed her glass on the counter by the sink, turning in for the night. Flipping the porch light off and only on occasion would the motion sensor light by the back door turn on.

Squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons maybe even a coyote or two always liked to wander up by the back door and sniff around our trash bins. I sat up reading in the living room a while longer, not quite ready to face my old room.

Instead choosing to inspect the first floor, wondering what new things I could pick out from the décor. A small painting of Emily’s rabbit, Artimus that was clearly done on a wine and paint night.

Large bookshelves lined the backwall surrounding the TV, so many books from Elizabeth’s studies, health magazines spread along the coffee table.

A wreath with some greenery bearing white berries and red bow, a few old coffee tins and tea containers holding either flowers or some assortment of pens and paintbrushes.

So much was the same and yet I still felt like an outsider.

Surrendering to the reality I did need to go to bed I gathered my phone, book and flicked off the last of the remaining lamps to ascend the stairs.

Our gallery wall floated along the steps. Photos of almost every generation of our family lay plastered against the drywall that desperately needed repainted.

Our parents wedding day, their smiling faces. Moms bright blue eyes and Dads goofy grin in his tuxedo which was so chic in the eighties. Then came photos of Grandma and Aunt Cora.

I quickly shuffled past them. I had weeks, no, months, to look at these and let the waves of guilt wash over me. Not tonight. Not before bed anyways.

Padding across the plush carpet to my bedroom, the door ajar and bedside lamp on. No doubt from Elizabeth. It didn’t escape my notice the bundle of lavender and dill laid on my pillowcase.

For protection. I hold the small bundle in my lap a moment, searching my mind for the exact spells its used for. My grandmother would have a fit if she knew it was taking me this long.

What can I say? I’ve been living life as a normal human for the past ten years to the best of my ability. Ignoring anything magickal or otherwise. I’d even avoided palm readers at the local county fairs I’d gone to.

I wanted little to nothing to do with magick. Regardless of how deep it ran in our family. I lay the bundle down on the end table right next to my phone.

Please protect me from bad dating app messages.

A stack of clean towels and beauty products rested on the toilet seat in the bathroom. I pulled my hair back into a low bun, splashing water onto my face and rubbing some milky cleanser that I knew had to be Emily’s onto my skin.

It smelled fragrant, like lemons and a sweet sugary after scent. Glancing up to survey the damage from the long day on my face, expecting to see dark circles, dull dry skin, but instead I looked fine. I looked normal.

Turning the cleanser over in my hands wondering if it had some “extra” properties in it that I wasn’t aware of but my younger glamorous sister did. I couldn’t see anything outside the ordinary.

I didn’t sense anything off.

Shrugging and placing it back on the counter, before returning back to my bedroom. Allowing myself to fall heavily against the mattress, a comical ‘huff’ escaping my lips. This was it. I was here.

For however long I needed to be. My fingertips ran up along the hem of the quit on my bed. Feeling the bumps of stitches along the pads of my fingers, the different textured fabrics. My eyes felt heavy.

Sleep called to me, sweet and deep. The edges of my vision blurred and darkened. With the last of my remaining alertness I turned the lamp off. I felt that deep heaviness fall over me.

In the far-off distance I could hear the owl once more. Then it was truly silent.

The back-sensor light came on. I whined as my room was immediately filled with a bright fluorescent light.

“What the hell...” I rubbed at my eyes, still not adjusted to such a bright searing light all of a sudden. Then I heard something knock against the garage. It didn’t sound like a skunk, or a raccoon.

Unless it was a huge raccoon.

Doubtful.

Pushing off of the bed I crouched down, making my way to the window. The curtains were sheer and the blinds were up. Peering around the side I craned my neck to see what was out there.

It was quiet. So startlingly quiet. No fauna chirping or calling out into an otherwise peaceful night.

The light was still on, but there was nothing in the yard. No animals, no creeps. Nothing.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck perk up. A green spark tickled the end of my fingertips and I didn’t even attempt to shove it away. My body knew there was something out there.

We’re so used to being the predator, never the prey. My eyes continued to scan back and forth, wondering if I needed to let one of my sisters know something was up.

Maybe this was normal? Did the light just randomly turn on from time to time? Ya know- technology? So efficient.

If that was the case why did I feel so…off? Something, isn’t right. Then I see it.

A flicker so fast that I’m half certain my mind made it up. Back in the tree line by the back of the garage, a different kind of darkness.

Not the shadows I had seen earlier from the trees on the porch. This is more opaque. It seems to undulate as it moves along the back of the yard. It doesn’t glide but rather jerks.

I feel my heart begin to race.

Its pace is slow, unseemly. Shadow against shadow and yet I can see it clear as day. Blackness that swallows the night whole. It’s form shivers and writhes against a large oak.

I must be dreaming. Yes. I’d fallen asleep and now I am dreaming something up that isn’t there. What a funny story I’ll have to tell my sisters in the morning.

But to be sure…

I grab my phone, sliding my finger across the screen to bring up the camera, pointing it out the back window. Somehow in the few moments it took me to grab my phone its gone.

The shadow isn’t where I last saw it. I am dreaming. I set my phone back down and then I see it. Or rather, it sees me.

It sees me, seeing it. And my body goes rigid.

Black malformed nothingness creeping along the garage and staring at me. Its featureless, save for cold pinpricks of red where eyes should be.

Red and beady, almost like light reflecting against an animals eyes.

It glows, but maybe anything would look glow-y against such a stark backdrop. The blood in my body runs like ice. The goose bumps have moved to my arms as well.

I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Maybe three seconds, maybe five minutes. I blink for the first time in I don’t know how long and when I stare back its gone.

Really gone this time.

I must have scanned the backyard and the fence and the woods and the garage multiple times for over ten minutes. I see nothing. My head feels fuzzy. Like I’d taken a large sleeping pill and have been fighting the effects for too long.

I hoist myself back into bed, because I am too afraid to go out there and check. Too tired to wake my sisters. It feels like my limbs have been replaced with sacks of flour.

Heavy, soft, the weight bringing me down. Pushing me against the mattress. I’m exhausted and alert and my body doesn’t know which to indulge more.

Eventually sleep wins and I drift off into a fitful night filled with dreams of sharp shadows following me. And one with red eyes leading the chase.

#billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes character #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher au #fantasy fic #witch #witchy fic #spooky season #ben barnes fic #marvel au #marvel fanfic series #warlock!billyrusso #witch!mc

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revenantlore · 3 months

Text

. Kiss Me With Your Fist wip introduction .

featuring @reininginthefirewriting ‘s vespera

a prequel to crave the fiction [character edits to be added at a later time]

Java Elliot, always on the precipice of danger and poor decisions, finds himself on a promising path of self-improvement while living with his brother Chai.

As he explores college majors and seeks a more stable job, Java's plans take a detour when he encounters Colt Hannigan—a captivating yet dangerous man who leads him astray.

Drawn into Colt’s twisted life of tantalizing drugs and criminal activity, Java is an inadvertent witness to an excess of violence and endures it at the end of Colt’s fist more nights than not.

Afraid to escape at the chance Colt might come after him, or worse, Java grapples with choices that endanger his hard-fought progress and continues to place not only his life but also his closest friendships in jeopardy.

characters :

Java Elliot —

Java can weave a lie so plausible even he could fall for it and believe it to be true, to the point that he sometimes questions his memory. But it keeps him safe and it keeps him sane, so why stop now when he’s already dug himself this deep?

likes simple things like leftover pizza and good music . could make a living off of lying if there was ever a need for it . would rather be at a concert than almost anywhere else . uses his friends as pillows . regularly drinks iced tea . too good at board games for anyone to enjoy playing because they know they’ll lose . prefers thrifting over buying new . collects vinyls and CDs and has a wide range of taste in music . not sure what he wants to pursue in life so he stagnates and jumps aimlessly from one project to another

Chai Elliot —

Chai has a busy enough life on their own without having to worry about their younger brother, but someone had to step up and keep Java safe from himself and the dangerous crowd he’s gotten himself caught up with. They still make time for their college courses and occasional hookups when time allows, but sometimes … sometimes Chai wishes they didn’t have to put their plans on hold to make sure Java doesn’t get himself killed.

loves dinosaurs and is pursuing a career as a museum curator . likes to hike, climb trees, and travel but seldom has the opportunity . prefers nonfiction books, learning the history of our planet, and watching documentaries . skirts and loose button-up shirts are essential to achieving peak gender balance . can’t convince them that black coffee and warm buttered toast is a treat and a perfect breakfast . memes? memes . flirty and handsy and not afraid of public displays of affection, no matter how much on display . could nap all day if given the chance

Colt Hannigan —

Prone to making bad choices, it’s no surprise that Java finds himself hand-in-hand with the son of one of the most dangerous men in his neighborhood. Charming and manipulative, Colt isn’t a man anyone should get involved with, and Java will come to learn he’s not alone in making that mistake

quick to anger and prone to violence . possessive and strategic . always gets what he wants . wears a chain necklace . collects antiques said to be worth thousands . psychology major and uses his knowledge to his advantage . appearance and fashion are important, for him and his partners . gourmet cuisine is the only acceptable menu . molds his partners into what he needs and wants them to be

London Elliot —

Too young to truly understand what is going on in her brother’s life, London remains oblivious and carefree … at least as far as familial drama goes. She has her own struggles with anxiety and selective mutism, finding solace in reading and ballet led by her instructor and favorite person, Vespera.

pastels and rainbows . observant and perceptive . great adoration for nature and animals . often found with a paintbrush in hand, but she likes to dabble in all creative art mediums . aspires to help people when she’s older . collects leaves and petals, likes to lay in the grass and observe the sky . love for ballet stems from its ability to express her emotions non-verbally

Vespera Cordova Ramirez —

Best friend and confidant, Vespera is always there to support Java and occasionally turns a blind eye to his choices, something that having a chaotic brother like Matias has inadvertently prepared her for

lives and breathes music . expresses her love for her Colombian heritage through cooking . far from being a stranger to engaging in casual hookups . a contradiction of ballet and skateboarding . wishes to better the world for her disabled students . conceals the hurt of a past unknown . intensely protective of those she allows herself to love . unapologetically herself . knows sign language . snarky comebacks and a sharp wit

#wip : kmwyf #wip : kiss me with your fist #wip introduction #wip intro #my edits #writeblr #java

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frannyzooey · 11 months

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Daddy Marcus or Joel father reveal for Father’s Day???? 😏

I wish! I can tell you that I plan to work on The Dinner tonight though, so hopefully it'll be posted soon ❤

I can also tell you that:

Weeknights Frankie is currently asleep, his long sun kissed limbs stretched out on the couch with his arms loosely cradling your son. Also fast asleep, the baby's cheek is squished against the soft cotton that covers Frankie's firm, broad chest and you quick kneel and snap a picture of their relaxed, near identical faces before going back to quietly unloading the cooler that you took with you to the beach that afternoon.

Lucia's card is open on the table, next to the coffee mug that you helped her pick out at the store earlier that week and as you slip the ice packs back in the freezer and toss out the remnants of sandy sandwiches, you think about your gift that you gave him earlier that morning in the shower while the kids were still asleep.

Heat pooling between your thighs at the memory of his husky, sleep rough groan in the steam of the shower, you can still feel the thick heft of him resting on your tongue, and peeking back at the dark crown of his curls, you make a mental note to give him another gift later that night.

In the Dark Ezra -- he used to have conflicted feelings about Father's Day. Never really felt deserving of it, uncomfortable at the sort of awkward mention of the holiday the week before by Cee's friends parents, since they all knew he wasn't really her father but also sort of was?

The first Father's Day he had Cee, they visited Damon's grave; dark, close cropped hair in the sunlight next to shining white blonde. He could tell she was torn between visiting in the name of duty while also still nursing a sort of grief for the man whose name was on the headstone, and he felt the same. Their heads cocked to the side at the same time from behind, and they were each were lost in their own thoughts for a moment: sadness, anger, long ago memories.

Quiet when they left, Ezra took her by the bookstore on the way home and let her pick out a fancy, overpriced journal - the kind she loved, because even at eight she had begun to fill them with stories. They were creative and wild, an outlet for her imagination and inner thoughts and her bedside table was stacked with them. She added that one to the collection later that night after she scrawled her words into it, the solemn feeling that hung over her like a cloud dissipating as she wrote with the sounds of Ezra in the kitchen down the hall and eventually he had called her to dinner, which ended up being over buttered popcorn on the couch with a movie.

They grew into the holiday together and today, she openly celebrated him in their favorite way to spend time together: browsing record stores, eating his favorite foods and going to the museum. They always end the holiday the same and today was no exception -- over buttered popcorn and a cheesy movie, and when she gave him her present (something he insists every time be priced under $10 or else) he also gave her his: an overpriced, fancy journal.

#frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #weeknights drabble #in the dark drabble

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quartergremlin · 3 months

Text

vack om my trollhumters vullshit

i love you varvara never change. those horns sure are for his deceit.

steve calling coach his dad and them havimg to correct himself. i love them. THEM ARE COVERING FOR THEIR FAMILY-MESS AT SVHOOL

GET THEY ASS UHL

they really are terrible students huh.

MO STEVE!!!!!

honestly, this whole episode is nearly indistinguishable from like. a regular teacher breakdown. rip to everyone with those stories about purple flyimg momky.

"emotionally commect with him" sticktler the MVP I guess? for at least giving them advice instead of going "a cat?? rip to you buddy better put that thing down."

mrs. jameth that's mot good for your digestive system.

MO SMR UHL MO

"a pep talk from your favorite student?" mot for long eli. just wait until krel gets here.

Smr. uhl honestly the scarriest here. turms into somic. "gatito" ... the meowing.

oh fuck you strickler.

weird-ass relationship there tho. that's fun. i omce saw you as a father but you've betrayed me and threatened the ome we both love dearly. etc etc

Jim thimgs that are funny to me amd I hope they never chamge:

1 - imsecure avout skimmy legs.

2 - mervous around claire when mot im immediate danger - impulsive spanish

"girls domt pee. they conspire!"

jim you are failing so hard. you're lucky you're both such nerds.

DOUXIE!!! my little sopping wet meow meow loser.

RULE THREE!!! *comfetti* love me some rule three.

love that this is the same bathroom set from the museum. yaas team keep recycling those sets so you cam put more energy into other things. like all those fire effects. jesus.

loving morgamma. keep being absolutely unhinged. also the voice effects are cool.

*tries to stab jim with a butter knife* "she's flirting with you"

"begome servant" > *the distinct sound of 1000 years of douxie servitude immediately clicking into place*

its also interesting to see how these people have changed from the past im wizards to mow. even if they didn't plan on having Morgana be a pretty normal person in the past like. i can see how being imprisoned for that long would drive you insane. how you'd completely lose your shit, try to kill a guy with a butterknife, and them down a raw steak im negative 2 seconds.

jim only hitting morlaire in the face with pillows while motemrique has no qualms about knocking her out cold. that's the sibling effect right there.

claire gravs motemrique by the scruff: *vaguely annoyed*

morgama does it: *kills her with cast iron pam*

kmowimg what I do about merlim. i get it. guy sucks. i would absolutely want to destroy everythim he's ever touched too. sorry yall ever met him.

also I like that while they do have a light/dark good/evil thing going om it's not that dark magic is vad necessarily. vlimky defimetly doesmt think much of dark magic. its just the connection between claire amd morgama is able to ve exploited by morgama, who is looking out for her own self-interest.

it happens again amd again but im always somehow surprised when trollhumters says: good amd vad are subjective. what really matters is if you can look out for the people you care about amd hold your values. something like that. im sure I could say something more coherent about it later. im multi-taskimg.

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sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 1 year

Note

I want to hear more about Zero Year Riddler being kind of a loser, please.

Zero Year Riddler is Actually A Nerdy Dork-Ass and I Have Evidence

aka at max ten pictures from the comic books. I apologize now that I had to get selective with photos and that these photos I took myself because I'm too lazy to scan. Includes hcs based on the canon stuff.

TW: Spoilers for Batman: Zero Year also known as Zero Year - Secret City and Zero Year - Dark City

We are going to be jumping around a little with these pictures. So the most basic/stripped down timeline- Edward sets off a massive plot w/ Doctor Death to first black out the City of Gotham while he prepares the Big Guns. Weather balloons filled with toxins to ensure no one is getting in or out of Gotham. He floods the city. Tells the surviving citizens that if they all want to get out, they have to give him a riddle he cannot solve. If you think that last part sounds very folk-lore or fairy tale like, YOU WOULD BE RIGHT. This period where he's setting up this challenge is the titular Zero Year. He is set up inside the Sphinx display in the Gotham History Museum. Batman stops him. onto the actual discussion.

We are first going to start with his introduction. I've discussed this before in a different post but this is meant to tell you multiple things. He has fifteen degrees he's earned. He makes conspiracy theory string boards. He is a dweeb who wears pocket protectors. The important thing to note story wise is that most of the points in this board are important/have a specific role in the story. He's correct about them. They matter. You might be saying "ok Fox/Belle but how does this say he's a nerdy dork-ass?"

look at him. He's described as being "boastful and annoyingly egotistical, but socially he's an egghead." This is not a man who plays well with others. But he genuinely thinks of himself as someone better than everyone else. What do you get? A smokescreen of theatrics, egotism and showing off to hide how socially inept he is.

Next, and sorry the first picture didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. This is the first meeting of Edward and Bruce Wayne. Of course Edward has already plotted his death. Will try to enact this plot. The page with the snake is a reference to the ancient Egyptian game of Mehen which Edward mentions in passing earlier in the story. Historians currently don't know much about the game other than it's distinctive board- However here it becomes a parallel to Ouroboros. The snake that eats it's own tail. Its known as an alchemy symbol and spiritually represents the unity of all things. Life, Death, Rebirth. In Edward's mind: destruction and rising from ashes aka Gotham in his plans.

The second is post Zero Year, telling the citizens of Gotham his motivations. This is his monologue showing his warped version of the Hero's Journey. The Hero's Journey for those who don't know is a very old archetype on which many fictional stories are all based on (whether they realize it or not.) In it's simplest terms, a hero goes on an adventure. The hero through trauma and hardship, learns a lesson, wins their "boon" and returns home with newfound knowledge that transformed them as a person. Note this sounds kind of similar to the Ouroboros thing, doesn't it?

Edward wants to leave a mark and transform Gotham. Potentially the world. He wants control he never had growing up. He wants all of it.

On the headcanon end... This information combined with his hyperfixation on mythology (mentioned below), this man plays tabletop. Hear me out. God complex. Verbose. Theatrics. Obsession with heroics, the heroes journey and folklore... this man not only plays DnD, he has been a GM countless times. I think he'd play other tabletops as well, but DnD is his bread and butter.

His main race (in traditional) is a gnome because of the intelligence stats. When he does DM/GM, the story is rich and so fucking detailed. He is also mean as hell and will murder all your characters in emotionally devastating ways if you get unlucky. He'll never admit any of this to people he finds cool or too attractive (unless they get to know him first). He has a strong wall up to try and prevent any weakness or vulnerability to show through.

He likes fun facts. Not just about mythology he is the one who spits out statistical data and random fun facts in regular discussion. It's almost compulsive. At another part of the comic where he almost shoots Lucius Fox dead via robot, he states the statistical probability that he was already hit with a bullet, but to reload and shoot again anyways. Then he is in the middle of telling a trivia fact about foxes before Batman comes in to save Lucius.

This feeds into my headcanon that he's neurodivergent. And also was a Jeopardy fanatic as a child. Probably still is. He likes to impress (especially dates) with the knowledge he can pull from seemingly nowhere. Also if you haven't gotten the impression yet, he cannot and will not stop talking. Loves the sound of his own damn voice. You know he's monologued himself to trouble multiple times. Also note how smoothly he's just glossing over his shitty dad/abusive childhood (again.)

Piggybacking on the last point- He has a special interest (read: potentially hyperfixation) on mythology and folklore. On multiple occasions he mentions these stories in passing as an anecdote for the events currently happening around him. Archimedes was a greek mathematician in ancient Sicily. He invented a great many things and would come to be known as one of the leading scientists of classical antiquity. The story Edward references is a rather famous one- Archimedes invented complex pulley systems and was tasked to prove the strength and ingenuity of these pulleys by moving the Syracusia, a luxury cruise ship, in and out of the water.

The second he mentions the story of the Gordian Knot. The tale goes as such: Alexander the Great's time. Whoever could untie the Gordian Knot was said to be destined to rule all of Asia. No one could solve it. The knot was impeccable. It was complex. Alexander the Great showed his great mental genius by doing what no one else had done. He cut the knot. There's more to it but that's the gist. That's the why of why Edward looks to this story and remembers it.

Everything about The Riddler of Zero Year is about proving his intelligence. Creating a name and a culture enveloped with smarts. If we didn't have the lore associated with Egyptian mythology as well, I'd say ancient Greece is his topic of choice but I think he likes all of it. That said, this man likes historical movies, historical texts, museums. If you take him to a museum or any kind of zoo or aquarium, he's going to talk your ear off on what he already knows for at least several hours. Are you impressed? Please be impressed. Tell him how smart he is and praise him like your favorite house cat.

The final pictures with actual analysis. These might seem silly or a rather insignificant detail to zoom in on.

This is him setting off the triggers to flood the city. Note the suitcase. He says this out loud to no one but himself. His own joke that only he gets to laugh at. Then he LITERALLY walks away whistling. A lot of this kind of behavior feeds into him knowing and being so smug about how clever he is. He's watching dozens upon dozens of citizens who have no idea what is going to happen to them, running in fear. And he's focused only on how gleeful he is that it's all coming together.

In the second: this is the final trial. Batman saving the city of Gotham and Riddler getting to have his big villain moment. And from the moment he reveals the lightshow of lasers ready to cut down our hero at will- he begins playing with his cane and hat. To the point that Batman is almost panicked for him to stop and just ask the damn questions.

These both run to one point and that's to him, this is all a game. We don't know this in the story yet, but he has an additional failsafe to blow the city up even if Batman wins (he doesn't expect him to, but he always makes sure to be a step ahead in case). He's lighthearted because, despite his curiosity around Batman and being constantly surprised that Batman keeps surviving, he considers this chess game match and set. His own arrogance supersedes the idea that Batman could be a genuine hero willing to take all the risk to save these people.

Riddler says to "get smart or die." Edward does not expect someone to do just that and more. For these the behaviors are more dorky vs the actual analysis but you get the point.

Bonus: we get the full picture that he constantly has a crown image above his screen in Gotham Square during Zero Year. Sir, Why Are You Like This? A lot of this comes down to: please give him attention he is so desperate for attention and probably physical affection. He's starving for it.

If you actually read through all of this, I'm love you and I hope you're having a fantastic day. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my rambling.

#Zero year riddler #riddler #foxwriting #batman: zero year #Edward Nygma #zero year is a really fucking good story but my only complaint is that there are pretty much 0 female characters

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