#Edward just canNOT catch a break

[cursedvaultss]

💛 for Edward and 👗 for Cordelia, please? 🫶🏻

Thank you!

💛 for a moodboard about our muses’ relationship:

Edward and Akelda: betrothed

👗 for a moodboard about my muse’s fashion style:

Cordelia and fashion

Moodboard meme

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

If a version of Midnight Sun existed for each following instalment of the Twilight series (New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn), what do you think they’d be called/what would you call them and what (new) scenes would be in them?

Anon, you speak my greatest dream. I want this in my life. If no one else does, then I am the sole person who does. If there is not one person who wants this, it means that I have died.

I need this.

But for now, I can only imagine (and no doubt fail miserably to what it would be in actuality).

New Moon

The thing is that Meyer would also want to call this New Moon for the reason that she called it New Moon for Bella: this is a book about hopelessness. Edward leaves, Bella's soulmate, she literally cannot survive without him and this book is her discovering "oh, yeah, I literally cannot survive without him" (and making friends with Jacob but let's be real Meyer was never that into that).

It's a book where the moon, the light, is gone.

For Edward, we have the same narrative, he tries to leave Bella for her own good, fails, has a miserable time, and comes crawling back only to find that he's made everything worse.

But because Edward is more dramatic, and to thematically work with Midnight Sun (named thus as Bella is the unexpected sunlight in what should be the darkest of Edward's nights) we have Polar Night which is the phenomenon opposite of Midnight Sun where instead of the sun never setting at all we have the night never ending.

As for what would be in it. My friend, my beautiful friend, everything would be in it.

We'd get the scene where Edward bullies his family into leaving, many of them having reservations, and then steals all Bella's photographs and tries and fails to steal the stereo out of her car. We'd get scenes of Edward fantasizing about Bella marrying and holding hands with MiKe NEWtoN and it being entirely too much for him. We get all of the birthday party, period, which from Edward's point of view would no doubt be insane.

We have Edward so fucking depressed that he feels he's bringing the family down and chooses to leave on the vague pretext of catching Victoria. Then he doesn't catch Victoria and loses her in Mexico but is so depressed he just keeps going south until he hits Brazil.

Where he stays, and per what he says to Bella (which is undoubtedly not the entire truth) he was fucking miserable and did nothing for months. Did he have a Hallucination Bella who told him not to eat human food because it'd make him sick? Did he write a rock opera about Bella Swan only to realize it didn't live up to real life and burn it in a fit of despair and anger? What about the family calling to check in? We know that happened, Rosalie could reach Edward and he answered, so did they just call and quietly try to ask if Edward's coming back home or not? You know? Anytime? Edward?

And then of course his pleading for death with the Volturi, being told no, planning his elaborate massacre-suicide before settling on good old suicide without any murder and Bella being alive and that whole debacle from his point of view including "OH NO OTHER MAN MOVED IN" when he realizes Jacob's... kind of... a thing...

Everything would be new in part because we see so little of Edward and given the insanity in Midnight Sun that was never in Twilight I can't even guess to what Edward got up to for months in Rio.

It could be fucking anything.

Eclipse

Or "Edward did a bad thing and is now very nervous" the novel. As for what it's call, this is less clear as we have to go with the sun/moon themes here, and Eclipse is already taken. If we're allowed weather related events maybe "Eye of the Hurricane" as there's a storm out there and this book is about Edward barely holding his shit together. This is his nightmare scenario in every way.

Bella has a new love interest, a friend she believes is platonic who is very interested in her, and worse, Edward actually does admire and is hands down in Edward's opinion the better man for her to be with. Bella's changed when he was gone and is now an adrenaline junky, what else about her has changed? How much did he miss? She's involved in werewolves who all hate Edward, for good reason, and want her to leave him, for good reason. Edward has discovered that he actually can't leave Bella, Alice was right, even though he wants to be that strong desperately. Bella got the family to agree to turn her and they'll do it, Edward's barely gotten her to agree to be turned by him instead, but she's hemming and hawing about marrying and committing to him and she wants him to bang him (which will likely lead to her death)

Edward is straight up not having a good time, bro.

So, we'd get Edward's insane plans to keep Bella and Jacob apart, his meeting Bella in the road after her looking like he'd love nothing more than to pull The Terminator where he chases her car down. We get Edward's increasing nervousness that Bella "wants to be with him forever" but "doesn't want to marry him" (which for Edward, understandably as he doesn't have Bella's background, is something that just doesn't compute). And there's Jacob, kissing Bella, warming her up at night, thinking very dirty things when Edward's sitting right there internally screaming.

And of course, offscreen things with the family, likely venting about the Denali who are leaving them to die because they won't let them kill the children Native Americans, wondering if they're all going to die in this fight, even more of the tent scene with Jacob (which I'm sure, somehow, I'm sure, got very homoerotic in there). Probably sobbing to Alice "I fucked up" and then hating Rosalie BECAUSE THIS IS ALL HER FAULT HISS HISS.

And of course, what we know he sees from Bree and perhaps the discussion with the family that Bella never got to be privy to.

And I imagine a lot of fantasies of Bella pregnant with Jacob's beautiful babies.

Breaking Dawn

I'm going to bow out for this one too, Meyer would want to name it that. Maybe we get "Hailey's Comet" or something, in that Edward has related Bella to a comet streaking across the bleak sky of his life and this is him learning to accept to be happy and perhaps good things are allowed to happen to him.

But anyways.

I mean.

We get Breaking Dawn.

We get Edward gearing himself up for sex and asking the family how to bang a woman. We know he did this. Canonically he confesses to Bella, in the weirdest manner possible, that he asked his entire family how to do it (and it made it clear that Carlisle didn't really approve and was pretty :/ and "don't do it" about all of it). We get the family probably watching Alice like hawks because they're waiting for her to tell them if Bella lived or died through intercourse. We get Edward interrogating the maid in Portuguese and god knows what they even said to one another but it had to be wild.

We get Edward planning Bella's abortion, the betrayal by Rosalie yet again, and then more planning of her forced abortion with Jacob and his opinion on Jacob turning from "respected rival" into "my only friend".

Then we get Edward's complete flip on Renesmee which must have been... I don't even know. But he'd be thinking she's the spawn of Satan before that (in the most Edward manner possible) and then that she's Jesus after that (in the most Edward manner possible).

Then of course there's "my son, Jacob" and honestly probably fantasizing about an adult Renesmee pregnant with Jacob's beautiful babies. Let's be real here. and just...

Look.

I can't predict this.

What we saw of Breaking Dawn was already insane and this would only be more so because it's Edward. There's so much we don't see as Bella pays 0 attention to the other vampires and to the family at large and Edward would just...

I have no idea.

It would just be madness.

TL;DR

I need this.

[santsukii]

blood in my veins (yandere! blade)

cw: gn! reader, heavy violence, blood, yandere obv, he breaks into ur house and watches u sleep edward cullen style, please lmk if i made any mistakes cuz english is not my first language T^T

it would be a gross understatement to say blade was obsessed with you. every single mannerism of yours, all your quirks, they were all the subjects of his deranged obsession. shattering your window and stepping into your dark room, he would sometimes dare to even sit at the edge of your bed simply to watch the silent rising and falling of your chest in your sleep. somehow, blade couldn’t contain the smile growing on his face knowing you would never know he was there in the first place.

of course, given the shattered glass on the floor of your room and slightly tacky drops of blood on the foot of the bed, you knew someone was there while you were asleep, but you didn’t know it was blade of all people. the man got some kind of sick adrenaline rush knowing you were none the wiser to his lethal obsession with you. he’d use your distress over your loved ones disappearing to get closer to you, feigning comfort and care. soon, blade would be the only one left.

no one else was in your life, only the man you now considered your boyfriend who had oh so much blood on his hands for the sake of winning your love in a one-sided game. he viewed himself as the winner because he was the one who ended up with you, but can you really have won the game and played fairly if you had just killed the opposing side to start with?

you can’t escape, to put it bluntly. he physically cannot die so no matter how far you run, he will always catch up. it’s how blade shows he loves you, and you wouldn’t leave anyway now, would you? at least knowing even more people’s lives would be at risk if you did. reassure him you won’t leave with a kiss, because maybe then he’d stop his merciless murders of the people close to you. but that’s just wishful thinking, isn’t it?

[capr1pengu1n]

Man, I really throughly enjoyed your vigilante!reader x riddler story. I just absolutely love the way you characterize him. I’ve been thinking about it for days, no joke. It’s where my mind ends up wandering. So if you feel compelled, may I request a similar situation, a bat-family reader x reader, but with a more hmmmm antagonistic approach maybe? Banter, name-calling, taunts, curses, gibes. Idk, I need them at each other’s throats, to the point where they lift cannot stand each other, then…hate sex ensues! Maybe my girl fights for dominance, but is ultimately a switch-leaning sub, so when Eddie does ultimately overpower her, he’s down right giddy at how submissive she can be when she’s not a pain in his ass. (Also, if you could throw in a size kink for Eddie I’d die a happy women, but do what you want and what your comfortable with, or ignore this all together, I just really love your writing!)

I'll break your pretty face

Summary: After solving your rival's incessant riddles, you're face to face with the man who has been giving you a headache for months now. But with emotions bubbling to the surface, you find out just how much your rival hates to feel about you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), hate sex, dubcon (to be safe), dom!edward, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, Edward being a condescending ass, insults and snide remarks galore.

Words: 5.2k

Notes: Thank you very much for the request anon! This was so much fun to write, and i'm happy to have finished it before going away with my family. I hope you enjoy!

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Running, your heels burn as you race to the back of the abandoned shopping mall, your cape billowing around your form as you sprint. The riddle you’d been given at the last location rattles around in your head, racing through the possibilities. ‘I shine like the sun, yet I'm cold to the touch, In the earth I am found, deep within as such. I clink and I clank, and I’m strong and steadfast, From coins to machines, through ages I last.’

All you know is that it’s located at the back of the abandoned shopping project in amusement mile, so you’d sped over on your motorcycle to beat the timer. This was all a game, his twisted version of a game. Right now, The Riddler had Officer Patel from the GCPD with a bomb collar around his neck in the middle of a pig pen; with glee he’d explained you had to do his stupid treasure hunt to find the code-word that would disarm the bomb remotely, letting the police know his location. While you know Gordon has his men searching any farm or slaughterhouse, simply solving his puzzles was quicker and more reliable to get the officer to safety. His demented scavenger hunt had taken you all over Gotham, your motorcycle practically out of fuel by now, as each location was another puzzle or stupid memory game that would lead you elsewhere. You slightly felt like a headless chicken, running around wherever he told you.

Getting to the back of the mall, you catch your breath as your eyes dart around the various stores that you can see, or maybe it’s in the employees only area? The riddle echoes in your head again…metal? But if that’s the answer, what does that have to do with-

Your gaze falls on the Hot Topic store, abandoned and derelict, but unmistakable with the sign out front. Metal music. It has to be in there, you think as you notice the security camera seemingly pointed right at you, red light on despite the supposed lack of power. He’s watching you, you know he is. Pointing your middle finger right where he’d be able to see, you enter the store and look around. God he infuriated you, his smug smile a constant picture in your head whenever you think about his riddles or his crimes. The way he talks to you is different than how he talks about your family, no with you he seems to be ten times more condescending. The patronising tone gets you more riled up than anything, with the falsely charming comments about your looks just seeking to make the anger rise up your chest like lava bubbling to the top of a pissed off volcano.

Sure enough, inside the store was an arrow spray painted in a metallic shade of green, pointing to a cassette player with a crude smiley face. You go towards it and press play, hearing the word ‘Venality’ screamed from a pained voice, presumably Officer Patel, along with a button flashing. Switching it on, seemingly nothing happens for a few moments, your eyes frantically looking around to see if you missed anything. Then your comms device crackles to life.

“Riddler just made contact, said you solved the puzzle. Gordon is sending his men for the officer, good work.” You hear Bruce say, causing you to smile a little. You’re glad you helped, and despite how shallow it makes you feel, you’re glad you got praise from your adoptive father. Hard to impress, you feel satisfied that you’re able to prove yourself, that’ll teach Tim not to doubt your intellectual skills again at least.

You’re just about to leave the store when static fills your ears again, this time from the old speakers hanging above the clothes racks. “Oh look at that, my favourite dimwitted little girl was able to solve my puzzles.”

Gritting your teeth, you leave the store and stand in the empty space outside before the speakers in the mall itself crackle to life. “Walking off are you? Oh are you having a tantrum? Poor girl, do you want me to call daddy to pick you up?”

His condescending tone was like nails down a chalkboard to you as you glare up at the security camera. “What’s wrong? Pissed off I beat you?”

“I’d hardly call that display beating me, a child could have probably solved those riddles faster than you. Still I suppose you saved the life of the corrupt cop, how lovely.”

“Oh? I thought I was a child according to you.”

“Dear, it’s called infantilization,” you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to patronise you, “Besides, I know you aren’t a child with a body like that, no matter how much you try and hide it with such garish costumes.”

Fighting the blush at his crude comment, you shake your head. “I know you aren’t the one to talk about garish outfits.”

This elicits a throaty laugh from the criminal. “Oh I’m hurt darling, truly… Oh wait a second, I’m not! Why would I bother with an opinion from someone of such little worth and brain capacity!”

You roll your eyes, glancing away from the camera for a moment to suppress the urge to give him the reaction he’s clearly looking for. When you’d followed in the unconventional family footsteps of becoming a vigilante, Bruce was clear and concise with how he taught you about the different criminals that operated throughout Gotham. Both their modus operandi in terms of their various crimes and escapades, but also their psychological profiles. Edward Nigma was a textbook narcissist who thrives on the attention and validation of others, so you were determined to not give him what he craved.

“Leaving already dear?” he asks as you head to leave, “you haven’t even asked where I am.”

“You’ve rerouted your signal through seven different countries’ VPN networks, we’ll find you eventually.”

“I guarantee you will not. Well, maybe the bat or one of his many boy blunders who trail after him like deformed puppies will. But not you.”

Swallowing, you breathe slowly to calm yourself. Don’t rise to him. Don’t rise to him.

“No, but I’m nothing if not charitable. Why don’t I offer you something, maybe it’ll help you prove yourself to the other precious little costumed freaks.”

That makes you pause, as if he was aware of your internal complex to prove you earnt your place in your family as you glance at the camera.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you where I am of course. Provided you come alone. If you contact the GCPD, or any of the aforementioned costumed freaks, I’ll be gone and I’ll be sure that the next bomb will be around your pretty neck instead.”

You know Bruce would be telling you not to, to realise it was a trap, or another stupid mind game. But you can’t deny the temptation…to be the one to take down the Riddler, that’ll cause everyone’s doubts about you to dissipate, right?

“Fine…how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

He barks out another laugh. “Oh silly girl, you don’t know. But I still think you’ll come, such a hopelessly plucky thing you are.”

It’s like a blur, you find yourself nodding and listening to the address before getting on your motorcycle. As you drive through the city, the twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your handlebars, your thoughts are scattered as you travel. This really is a bad idea, and you know it. You hate him, his stupid tone and stupid puzzles and stupid face…and yet here you are, pulling up to the abandoned building and making your way inside. Green graffiti greets you, messages like ‘can you defeat a mind such as mine?’ taunting you as you head down the hallway to a derelict living area. Flickering in the corner, you step over and see the monitor set up on the table was broadcasting the feed from the shopping mall.

“Oh good, you can follow simple instructions.”

You’re on high alert as you spin around, battle stance ready as he walks in calm as anything, question mark cane twirling in his gloved hand. With his trademark smirk etched on his face, he stands there with his head tilted.

“So what’s the plan, little girl? Knock me out, beat me up, make me repent.” He chuckles at his own words. “Or maybe just look at me.”

“You flatter yourself.” You snap at him.

“I know, it’s my favourite activity. A man with looks as well as an intellect are hard to find you know, even harder to find in a vigilante. Pity you only seem to have one of those.”

Barely suppressing the eye-roll, you bite back at him. “You won’t be so patronising when you’re in a straitjacket.”

“I’m so scared.” He says dryly, stepping closer. On instinct you lunge for him, knocking him straight in the cheek, but his reflexes are better than you thought, as a split second later his cane makes contact with your arm. The pain sends you stumbling to the right, bracing on the rat-bitten sofa as Edward grits out a laugh.

“Well well well, the brat really can punch. I’d say that was definitely in the…hm…top fifteen punches to the face I’ve taken? What an achievement.”

Despite his sarcasm, his hand is gently touching his cheek to assess the damage, and a bit of you smirks at the knowledge he’ll have a killer bruise in the morning. However so will you, if the dull throb in your arm is anything to go by.

“You hit like a girl, even with your cane.”

“Now dear, isn’t that a little sexist? Insinuating that girl’s punches are weak, I’m a little surprised.” He mocks you, smirking as he stands back to his full height. Having never been in the same room as him before, you’re a little taken aback by just how tall he really was. Sure he wasn’t the most muscular man you’d ever seen, but he clearly took the time to have a slim and strong appearance which matched his imposing stature. He rolls his neck, looking you up and down.

“Enough with the feeble attempts at brutality, you aren’t the batman.” He sneers at you, before you glare at him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why did I invite you here..” he repeats your question, pretending to ponder it before his eyes grow cold. “Because I hate you. I hate how…stupidly you solve my puzzles.”

You barely have time to process his weird dichotomy before he continues. “I hate how I underestimated you, I thought you were just some silly girl who put on a costume and thought yourself a hero. But now, you’re an annoying thorn in my side.”

He pulls out the gun from his belt, the gun you foolishly missed in your blind haze of annoyance and hatred as you back away slowly.

“So perhaps I brought you here to kill you, to finally rid myself of my annoying problem. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”

You pause at his last sentence, but he steps forward and places the gun against your forehead. Swallowing, you look up at him, at how his breathing is deeper than before and his hair had fallen out of place so strands fall limply against his eyebrows. Running out of time, you gently move your hand and mess with the end of his purple tie, feeling the silk material. His eyes dart, confused and with a hint of something else entirely, down to the movement of your fingers.

Taking that as your chance, you move to hit the gun away from him, kicking upwards. He grunts in pain, as you push him to the floor, gun clattering out of reach. Landing squarely on top of him, he grabs your arms and flips you with an ease that took you off guard completely. Instead of the cold glare he gave you a few moments ago, now he just laughs.

“So naïve, you think I’m not used to getting a woman on her back?” he taunts.

“Yeah I do think that, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to be in bed with someone like you.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” he smirks, leaning in closer as he pins you properly against the hardwood floor, “I think you’ll find I do quite fine with whoever catches my attention. It’s just that nobody can ever hope to match me.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing your neck, digging in to the sides and causing you to squirm and struggle. However, unfortunately it causes your cheeks to flush which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Are you blushing?” he says, eyes frantically darting around your face.

Embarrassed beyond belief, you try and use his momentary shock to once again gain the upper hand, pushing him off you and scrambling to get up. However he’s one step behind you, getting up from the floor and grabbing your arm, pinning you face first against the wall. His height means he has to lean down to talk into your ear, his grip harsh as he keeps you in place.

“You are blushing, oh isn’t this precious. The pathetic girl is attracted to me. Well I’m not surprised, I am a specimen.”

“Do you ever shut up.” You snap, trying to move but instead he presses his chest fully into your back, hand unclipping your utility belt so it falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Not when I’m having fun. Finally you’re actually worth a damn.”

You turn and spit at him, the saliva only succeeding in creating a small stain on his white shirt, to which he tuts.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Spitting at me like that.” He starts as he grips your neck from behind. “I could just choke you right here, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me now, without your little toys, or without backup from your dimwitted friends. No I think you should show a bit of respect to the man who holds your life literally in his hands.”

You still, the situation really dawning on you as you’re pressed against the wall. He uses his other hand to tug your hood down, before pulling your hair so he can look at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked this.” He mutters, his hand gently stroking the strands now and giving you whiplash from the tonal shift. “Is that true? Do you like being dominated?”

“No.” you lie, gritting your teeth as he laughs.

“No? Then why are your pupils dilated? Why is your chest moving rapidly with your frantic breathing? Either you like this, or you’re a truly pathetic hero to be this scared.”

You know deep down he’s right, and you hate it. You hate it as much as you hate him, and you hate him as much as you’ve always been secretly attracted to him. Seemingly, the twisted feeling is mutual as he pushes his knee between your thighs.

“What are you-“

“Use whatever limited cognitive abilities you possess to come up with an educated guess.” He taunts, as his knee presses against your clothed cunt. You bite back a gasp, lips parting as your hips buck forward without warning. “See? I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

It’s sick, it really is disgusting how turned on you feel as the murderer you’ve been trying to catch is currently helping you move over his knee and thigh, grinding against him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock against the material of his suit trousers, the green being practically the only colour you can focus on. “I hate you…”

He smirks at your admission as he leans in, warm breath tickling your ear. “And I really believe that you believe that.”

You shudder at the whisper, as he grabs your upper arms and spins you so you’re facing him. Gripping your throat once again, his lips slam into yours in a brutal kiss, months of biting remarks and taunts accumulating into this dizzying moment of passion and desire. Not one to give up, you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him closer, tongue trying to assert dominance in his mouth. You feel the grin he has at your antics, his free hand lifting your thigh so he can grind against you.

When he pulls away, a small trail of spit connects you both as you stare at each-other. You really hate how handsome he looks like this, his eyes softer but no less condescending as he looks down at you, large hand moving away from your neck to grip your jaw.

“Much more appealing when you aren’t running your mouth.” He mutters quietly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Feeling the cold leather, you bite down gently and tilt your head to pull his glove off, which causes his eyes to narrow in amusement.

“Oh I see, trying to get me to touch you properly? Are you that starved for affection? I almost pity you.” He taunts, but his hand runs down your cheek in such a soft manner that it takes your breath away. Fingertips dance down to your pulse point, then down to your cape, unclipping it so it falls to the floor with your belt. His eyes roam your figure, and you know you should just punch him hard and get out of there, but when his finger fiddles with the zip at the top of your suit, you jolt with a passion and spin him so he’s against the wall. Surprisingly he lets you, as he laughs against your lips when you kiss him forcefully. He grips your hips and brings you against him, having to crane his neck downwards to keep kissing you.

Your hands feel his chest through his expensive shirt, running over where his nipple is which causes him to jump a little. Relishing in that, you run your fingers along the same spot again to which he growls and pushes you quickly. Stumbling back, he pins you against the back of the sofa and smirks.

“You’re so easy to push around, some vigilante you are.” He teases, although clearly trying to deflect from the fact he himself was flustered from your outburst. To punctuate his words, he cups your clothed cunt roughly, causing a small whine to escape you. “See isn’t that much better? To just give in to the wills of your superiors.”

You try and bite back, but it dies in your throat when he keeps groping you, this time roughly pulling the zip down of your suit so it reveals your black bra. He takes his other glove off, placing it on the back of the sofa before groping at your chest with both hands, causing your back to arch.

“Oh sweetheart, if I’d have known this is what you were hiding under that stupid outfit, I’d have rid you of it long ago.”

Tugging your suit, you let him use your limbs like a rag-doll to get the top half of your suit off, before unclipping your bra and placing it with his glove. His hands grope your newly exposed chest, circling your nipples as he groans softly at the sight. He cruelly pinches just to watch you cry out.

“That’s it, let me use you. You just love it don’t you?”

You don’t answer, which clearly aggravates him. He pinches your right nipple roughly yet again, as his left hand comes up to tug your hair. “I said, you love it. Don’t. You.”

“Yes!” you finally cry out, hips bucking into nothing as your breath comes out shaky and stunted. His self satisfied grin speaks volumes as he pats your cheek condescendingly.

“Good girl.”

Impatiently, he tugs down the rest of your suit so it hangs limply around your knees, allowing your thighs to part just enough for Edward to fit his big hand between them. Feeling how soaked you are, he grits out a moan as he explores your folds. Letting out a soft moan yourself, you shiver at the villain’s touch as he circles your clit.

“You’re drenched…is this what you do to all the criminals you fight? Strip when you lose the upper hand?” he taunts, moving his fingers faster over your throbbing heat.

“No…of course I don’t…” you grit out, whimpering again at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Good. I’d carve out their eyes you know.” He whispers darkly, and despite your conscience your pussy throbs at his words. “I don’t think I like the idea of anyone else knowing how slutty you are.”

“I’m not slutty.” You try and argue, but it’s hard for those words to carry any weight when you’re shivering and moaning under his precise touch. He has the audacity to laugh in your face.

“I think we both know that’s not true darling. Slutty for me, the criminal who you came here to stop. If only Gotham knew the truth about their prettiest hero.”

At your embarrassed noise, he brings his fingers down lower to play with your hole. “Do you want me here?”

Not having the strength to resist your desires anymore, you nod pathetically as he smirks. You expected him to make you beg or grovel, but instead he sinks two fingers into your cunt, your legs shaking at the slight stretch.

“You're prettier when you’re polite.” He says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so you moan louder for him. Clenching around his digits, you hold on to his shoulder, his eyes full of concentration as you look up at his face.

“Fuck…I didn’t expect you to be so-“

“Good at this?” he taunts, continuing the steady pace of his fingers, “I’m hardly a blushing virgin dear. I know how to make a woman feel pleasure.”

“That’s surprising.” You can’t help but mock, which causes him to hum and reach his hand around your neck once more.

“Don’t be a brat. You were doing so well.” He hisses, pushing against your g spot. “I could just stop, leave you here all wet and wanting and pathetic.”

You think there’s a good chance he’s bluffing, but with how much your clit aches with desire you decide you aren’t willing to take that risk. So you shake your head. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Say sorry.”

You whine, but he stops the movements of his fingers, leaving them deep inside you without moving. His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he stares you in the eyes.

“I said, say sorry. Surely you aren’t that dumb that you don’t know how to apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, so he pulls out his fingers and gives your cunt a harsh slap.

“Is that it?” he taunts, reveling in how you cried out at the slap, “I could barely hear your little whisper. Say it again, say it properly. Say ‘I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.’”

Shame and embarrassment burn throughout your body like a wildfire, his words the match you’d practically lit for him. With a shaky breath, you repeat it.

“I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, just forces his fingers back inside your dripping heat roughly. Moaning, you relax as best you can with your ass pressed against the back of a rather uncomfortable sofa and enjoy his slender fingers filling you up. His pace is intense but steady, his eyes firmly on yours as he watches your reactions to every little change in pace or angle. It’s like he’s operating a machine, pressing the right buttons and connecting the right wires to achieve his intended results.

When his other hand lets go of your neck to rub messily at your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your moans getting breathy and desperate. His smirk grows as he notices, feeling your thighs start to shake and your hips move.

“Getting close?” he asks, and you nod desperately. You can feel the pleasure nearly reaching the pinnacle, just a few more thrusts of his fingers and…oh god you’re going to-

He pulls his fingers out roughly, and his face is one of pure satisfaction as you whine pitifully at the loss of stimulation, not being able to cum as you gaze up at him. He laughs in your face, holding your jaw so he can look into your glassy eyes.

“Did you really think I’d just let you cum?” he chuckles again, squishing your cheeks together to further humiliate you, “oh you silly, silly girl. No, you aren’t getting that privilege until you earn it. And my dear, I think you’ll have to do a lot more than apologising in such a pathetic way.”

With a grin that betrays the fact he’s having the time of his life, he forces his wet fingers into your mouth so you can lick them clean. Not being given much of a choice, you suck them and look into his eyes from under your eyelashes. Once he deems them suitably clean, he pulls them out and wipes them crudely on your breasts, before gripping your arm and moving you to the correct side of the sofa. He pushes you down unceremoniously, before settling behind you as you get up on your hands and knees, not before he strips you of your suit completely and placing it with his gloves.

Hearing the sound of his belt being taken off, your thoughts are clouded by lust as you arch your back a little. He seemingly appreciates the submissive gesture, slapping your ass as he unbuttons his trousers.

“So eager.” He teases, and you feel his cock against your ass as he speaks. “Beg for me.”

With a shiver, you know that he’s being serious so you start to beg softly, not really used to it. In response, he pushes your thighs together and pushes his cock between them. Moving, he fucks your thighs as you realise your begging isn’t enough, moaning softly as your pussy coats him with your wetness. Each time you feel him brush against your clit, your breath hitches and your words stutter. But still you persevere, begging like you never have before, for him to fuck you, for him to make you his, for him to own you.

That word choice seems to be the right one, as he groans before positioning at your entrance and pushing in smoothly. Crying out at the long awaited feeling, your head hits the sofa cushion underneath you as he bottoms out, before pulling out and thrusting deep once more.

“So tight, bet it’s been a while, hm? If ever.” He taunts, moaning softly as he pulls out and watches his own cock disappear again inside your heat.

“I’m not a virgin.” You mumble, realising he’s doing to you what you did to him earlier, as you defend yourself rather pitifully.

He instead laughs and sets a rhythmic pace, gripping your hips to aid his movements. “Well you certainly act like it, acting like you’ve never begged a day in your life. Hard to believe from someone so…fuck…so submissive.”

You want to protest, really you do, but his pace just has you reeling from the pleasure as you let yourself be used by him. Moaning into the cushion muffles you, so he grabs your hair and tugs hard.

“Let me hear you, go on. Tell me how good I am.” He demands, his ego seemingly never satiated as he fucks you.

“You’re so good…so good sir.” You ramble, feeling yourself fall into the submissive head-space as your eyes grow more and more unfocused.

“Say the full thing dear…fucking hell…go on.”

You know what he wants, and the part of your brain that was telling you to resist, the part trying to remind you that this is a man who has brutally tortured and murdered people, who has terrorized your city, who has put your adopted brothers in death traps, it falls silent with every thrust into your cunt. So you do.

“You’re so good Mister Nigma, sir.” You whimper, your voice barely recognisable to your own ears. He seemingly is pleased with your words, letting go of your hair and fucking you harder. The pace and intensity make him sweat, quickly and clumsily tugging his tie off and shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders, still finding the compulsion to place them neatly on the back of the sofa with your bra and suit.

“There, so much better when you listen to me.” He grits out, clearly struggling to keep his own composure. He’d never admit it of course, but he’s thought about this scenario more times than he can remember. Laying in his bed, not being able to sleep with a million thoughts and ideas running through his brain, but the most pervasively annoying being thoughts of you. Your voice as you snap back at his taunts, your body and how it looks on his screens as he watches you beat the robots he’s painstakingly made, or the men he hired to protect his assets. All of it usually leading to his hand down his trousers, furiously pumping his length to the thought of putting you in your place, of showing you that he is the greatest mind Gotham has ever seen, and you’ll respect it, as he’d cum all over his hand and torso.

Now here you are, practically putty in his hand as he thrusts into your cunt like a toy. He’ll never grow tired of this memory, no matter how debilitating it’ll become when he’s forced to work, or worse, confront you again. He channels all those emotions into spanking your ass, the gasp like music to his ears as he rails you.

You’re so desperate for the orgasm he cruelly denied you that you sneak your hand down to rub your clit, which of course he notices. But he can’t seem to stop you, as he keeps thrusting over and over again.

“So good for me, so good for the Riddler.” He says, uncharacteristically breathy and lower pitched. You just nod in agreement, little moans escaping you. Feeling his orgasm barreling towards him, he grips at your neck once more, desperate to feel your life in his hands again.

“How about I let you cum this time, wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah? Say thank you.”

Your clit throbs at the permission, getting closer and closer to the edge again as you moan. “Thank you Mister Nigma, sir.”

With that title, he moans and rails you without mercy, clearly chasing his own pleasure. That doesn’t matter though, as you’re cumming around his cock regardless, making a mess of the ratty sofa beneath you. In a couple of thrusts, he buries himself inside you with a guttural groan, and you’re so fucked out you don’t even have the energy to lambaste him for cumming inside you. That’s a problem for tomorrow, as both of your heavy breathing's sync up.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and with a soft hiss, looking at your ruined hole with a small amount of pride in his chest. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to get this far with you, so now seemingly you’re both a little out of your elements. With an uncertain hand, he brushes the hair out of your face, looking at you curiously, as if to gage what you’re going to do.

“I still hate you, you know.” You mumble halfheartedly, moving a little to lay back on the sofa.

He chuckles, soft and light. “I know dear.”

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

[cameoliob]

(one more from the kallus jovan anon, if these messages are too much i'll stop i just love your ideas) how do kallus, jovan and garazeb interact when they're all together? doe sthe rest of the rebellion stay away when the three of them are in a room or do they try to listen in for the gossip? are their snarky comments so bad that people start joking about putting bacta on that burn?

Oh lord sorry for answerinf this 8 years later (i need to check my inbox more often oops) BUT

Kallus is trying SO HARD to get Jovan to LOCK THE FUCK IN (Enough dillydalling, gayboy, this is WAR)

On a serious note, i do think that theres something to be said about Kallus kind of pitying Jovan for the childish crush he still has-- he truly wants Jovan to realize that there is no one solution to the loniness that you experience in the empire; you cannot just expect people (and in Jovans case, a relationship) to come along and make you feel better, you have to put in the work to be better FIRST, everything else comes AFTER. Furthermore, Kallus knows that Jovan likes the IDEA of him, and the nostalgia that comes with it. Kallus sees Jovan for what he is; a lonley man with an insatiable need for connection. Jovan just cant quite see that yet.

HOWEVER, Kallus is-- at his core-- an easily annoyed motherfucker with something to prove and GODDAMNIT Jovan just cannot SHUT UP (JUST SHUTUO FOR FOUR SECINDS YOU YAPPING MOTHERFUCJER JUST SHSHHHHHHSHSHSHSHHHH)

So he is just begging for Jovan to lock the fuck in, and Zeb just keeps catching strays from Jovan because when has Zeb EVER been able to catch a break

And Zeb thinks that Jovan has a very punchable looking face. (He hasnt actually punched him yet but... he thinks about it)

Knowing Yavin 4, everyone is invested. This is their reality TV. Love Island could NEVER measure up to whatever the hell these two have going on

Every petty Kal and Jovan spat keeps getting filmed by someone (its Sabine) and uploaded to the holonet. People across base have started chosings sides. Its like Edward VS Jacob all over again. Except if Edward and Jacob had a really messy breakup 14 years ago.

This is Yavin IVs prime time television, everyone is invested for SUREEEEE

[adhdnursegoat]

Assault on Arkham

cw: just fluff 😊

word count: 913

The night is still, save for the distant hum of the city outside. You lie in your bed, the faint glow of the moon casting soft shadows across the room. You watch and listen as the shadows pitter patter on your window intime with the rain. The storm outside does little to lull you to sleep. You've been restless, tossing and turning as you let your thoughts linger on a plan you’ve been devising. The details are carefully calculated; now all that remains is execution.

Summoning a touch of drama, you let out a sharp, strangled gasp and sit up abruptly in bed getting into character. You stumble out of your room and make your way down the hall, careful to ensure your footsteps are heavy enough to sound distressed.

You push open his door with exaggerated caution and slip inside, eyes wide and face flushed with feigned terror. “Eddie…?”

Edward takes a deep waking breath, and part of you feels a twinge of shame for waking him for something so selfish. But the other part of you cannot take this tension between you anymore.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice low and husky with sleep. And he doesn’t look up, just lays waiting for your pressing matter than just cannot wait until morning.

“C-can I sleep with you?” You ensure to add a quiver to your voice. “I had a nightmare, and - and…” You get choked up, simply unable to carry on with the harrowing tale of your terrors.

At the sound of your soft sniffles, he finally opens an eye, catching sight of the tears that glisten in the dim moonlight. There's only a beat of silence as he processes your words, but then, without hesitation, Edward sits up, concern clouding his sharp features. His hand reaches for yours, the gesture more tender than you expected. “Of course,” he breathes, his voice soft but laced with urgency. “Absolutely, my dear.”

His fingers are warm as they curl around yours, his eyes—keen even in the shadows—scanning your face for any trace of your supposed distress. For a moment, you're thrown off by the depth of his response. You hadn’t anticipated this level of sincerity, and you’re momentarily disarmed by the genuine worry etched into his expression.

But the guilt is fleeting, quickly replaced by the triumphant warmth of satisfaction. This is going even better than expected. You purse your lips, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the smirk threatening to break through. Still, the pang of guilt is not enough to stop you from leaning into the comfort his concern brings.

Edward pulls back the covers with deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing yours in a way that sends a delicious shiver down your spine. He guides you into bed beside him, and as soon as you slip beneath the sheets, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The heat of his body melts into yours, chasing away the cool remnants of the night. There’s something undeniably intimate in the way he holds you, the press of his chest against your back, his fingers splayed possessively over your hip, drawing you deeper into his embrace.

His breath fans against the back of your neck, warm and steady, and a soft sigh escapes him, the sound vibrating through your skin. He holds you tighter, the weight of his arm around your waist grounding you, but also sparking a different kind of awareness—the kind that makes your pulse race. After a few minutes, you can’t help but shift slightly in his arms, rolling over to face him, letting him pull you closer. Your head finds its place on his chest, your lips dangerously close to his collarbone as you peer up at him.

His eyes are no longer clouded with sleep, instead gleaming with an almost wicked amusement. The faintest smirk curls at the corners of his lips, his usual air of self-assurance returning with a quiet, sensual confidence.

“Better?” His voice dips low, velvet-soft as it skims across your skin, the sound alone sending a shiver down your spine. The flutter in your stomach is immediate, a pulse of heat you can’t ignore.

You bite your lip, the grin forming against your will as his warmth wraps around you, his body a cocoon of heat and intimacy. “Much,” you whisper, the word barely escaping you as his fingers begin to move, skimming over the curve of your hip. His touch is light, teasing, but every brush of his fingertips against your skin feels deliberate, coaxing.

“You know…,” he murmurs, his voice dropping in a conspiratorial tone. It curls around you like a blanket, and you feel yourself melting into it. “Next time, you can just get in bed with me. No need for the crocodile tears.”

A blush flares across your cheeks, your heart pounding at the teasing lilt in his words. “Was it that obvious?” you mumble, burying your face into the warmth of his chest, embarrassed but more than a little thrilled.

Edward’s thumb drags lazily over the sensitive skin beneath your ribs, sending a ripple of heat through you. “Painfully so,” he chuckles, the low rumble vibrating through your body where it’s pressed against him, making every inch of you hum with anticipation. His lips find your hair, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss, a show of affection that’s both tender and possessive. “But, I’ll admit, I appreciate the effort.”

[freuleinanna]

trials (and errors)

aaaaaah fuck it. so I was having a hard time writing the fic between being dead inside and quitting my job & job hunting. it still isn't finished, and I've been struggling with writing a longer piece in English as well, but whatever, I'll just keep trying.

P.S. I'll be posting by chapters (AO3 too) in hopes of winning myself some time. P.P.S. I've posted excerpts from it here, here, here, and here. P.P.S. Just a note. I didn't want to make Marisa or Asriel specifically likeable. They're young, and youth is often about ugly emotions & being wrong most of the time. Special thanks to @stillgoingstrongforeternity for inciting the idea!

Exiled from the public's eye, young Marisa Coulter is preparing to go and stand trial for adultery. On the other side of Oxford, young lord Asriel Belacqua is preparing to go and stand trial for murder. A lot has been said about how 'as soon as they met, they fell in love'. That is exactly what made the rest of it so hard.

Chapter 1: Creatures.

Animals turn wild in isolation.

Notes:

I've sprinkled my own hc's from 3-sentence fics all over this, so if you feel you recognize something, that's cause you probably do.

Please know that I resent the idea of turning Edward Coulter into a monster.

Hilda the Maid is just an OC, don't mind her. She's there for the scene.

The old maid's daemon, a house cat, is peering at the golden monkey from behind his human's legs.

'You're not dressed,' a tone of cold disdain matches the stare, no trace of respect in either. Frankly speaking, Hilda never had much love for her, tolerating Marisa reluctantly for the sake of her adored Edward, but now – well. No room for pretense. The boy she nursed in childhood lies rotting in his grave, yet she who wronged him is alive and well.

With a side-glare equally hostile, Marisa puts the drink aside. It is untouched, she cannot afford drinking before the court, she's not that reckless (is she yet?), but the oaky smell is enticing and her lips are dry with thirst. She licks them slowly. It's a game – a craving she must endure, the taming of the beast. She's become good at that.

'Take them away,' her voice is hoarse with disuse, and Marisa wonders if that croaking would be any similar to her daemon's, should they break silence again. 'I shan't wear 'em.'

On the bed, two dresses are set out: both black, both criminally distasteful. Fitting a widow, Marisa supposes, chosen undoubtedly by Hilda herself. She doesn't bother to mask a grimace looking at baggy silhouettes of plain cloth with mournful ribbons in abundance and humble sleeves that cover the wrists – the humiliation of wearing something so bland, even for theater, turns her insides. She buried a husband, after all, not herself – unless you count the exile.

'Yes, you shall.' The house cat narrows his yellow eyes hissing. 'You shall, if I have to wrestle you into one.'

Marisa turns her head, and even the stuck-up old maid can't deny how much the gesture suits her: the arrogance of it, the will. Light from a window catches her eyes; hellfire burns blue as she leans forward in her chair, elbows on her knees:

'Try.'

'A vermin, that's what you are.'

She blinks, her jaw clenches and unclenches at the words. She sits perfectly still. Predators always do.

'A pest, a parasite from the beginning, and he never knew, no, he was too good a man for that. I told him, but he wouldn't listen. I saw you for what you are, though, you little, rotten–'

'Dear Hilda.'

A pause. Hackles raised on opposite sides of the room.

'You will address me as Madam, or I will personally rip out your foul tongue and send it to whatever beggar family Edward had kept you here to support.'

It’s the longest sentence Marisa has uttered in weeks. Her daemon is baring his teeth instead of her – they always feel a little closer at their worst. How fascinating. The house cat stands rigid, its tail twitching in a half-curl close to the legs. The woman's stance is much the same. With visible restraint, she keeps her hands clasped above the apron as servants learn to do, but disgust dripping from her voice is undiluted and more candid than a knife making the cut.

'You may be a lady of the house by marriage,' she spits, 'but you're nothing more than a greedy, dirty pithole.'

The predator leaps.

Even as it leaps, it agrees with the judgment.

The golden monkey screeches, the cat is yowling – Marisa springs to her feet and makes exactly two furious steps before stopping herself, her robe flying and then settling around her. Hilda does not move. Marisa suspects why. All her life, she, too, has never felt a single reason to fear something she could dissect, and pull apart, and learn its nature. Knowing the nature, that’s the key. Poison rolls over her in waves of sizzling acid, and she could swear the woman sees that right underneath her skin, she is a horror.

It feels weird, though, not having power over someone for a change. Weird and destabilizing. Marisa can't afford that either.

An idea comes not by itself, but conjured from the depths of the sadistic artistry that is her mind now, and her lips twitch in triumph.

'Alright,' she nods, 'I'll wear a dress. A fitting dress to honor our dear Edward.'

Possessed, she flings the wardrobe open – a splash of exuberant colors, rich materials, silks, laces of such intricacy it's like a tapestry of its own, everything she hoarded with dragon-like avarice running from (a greedy, dirty pithole) her girlhood of virtuous restraint. A crimson one she chooses, holding it to herself and turning around.

'What do you think? Does that render all my grief?'

The dress covers the knees, but then it doesn't cover much else. Marisa can still taste the satisfaction of seeing the seamstress look away nearly in shame, pricking her fingers on a needle, as though at that instant, fitting the dress to Marisa's figure, she fully realized her own bleak mediocrity and it marked her for life. Cap sleeves were embracing the tender arc of Marisa's shoulders, and a cleavage, though humbly narrow, was running down her bosom just low enough to hypnotize anyone looking with hints of delicate plumpness as she was breathing.

It was a scandalous dress. The thought of wearing it ached in her lower belly with pleasure of anticipation.

'At least pretend to have some dignity,' – oh, the repugnance in it.

Marisa laughs. She slips out of her robe and throws it sideways – the monkey jumps to catch it, turning his back immediately, eyes averted. Marisa doesn't see, but small black paws clutch at the clothes where it carries the warmth of her body, half-stroking it, half-choking.

Сool crimson clings to her every curve as she releases her hair from under it and turns around.

'Zip it up.'

Poor old maid, her face is wrung with contempt so profound she cannot speak. A useful trait in servants. It stirs something in Marisa, pulls her eyebrows into a frown. Then it comes – Thorold, that reticent man Asriel always had around, his trusted accomplice in every deed; her mind recoils from the danger of pursuing the memories further. Too many things she can’t afford.

A glance over the shoulder; a sharp, imperious snap of fingers.

'Now, Hilda.'

The cat daemon treads forward. Coarse hands jerk the zipper up, shaking Marisa mercilessly in the process. She feels a hard pinch at her back as the maid smoothes the dress over, and bites a giggle down through the wince. It is very, very familiar – that overwhelming need to let cruelty out in little bursts. Oh, Hilda, so righteous. So susceptible to provocations. What fun it would be–

The woman slams the door behind her without saying a word, taking the victory and leaving Marisa alone in the room.

As she regards the empty space, resembling a child that's just been told off by a mother, her fingers tremble. A (greedy, dirty pithole) storm is raging, locked in a ribcage with nobody to lash out on, nobody to stand witness. Her claws dream of a victim to dig into. They only find her own self, and of herself, she’s had enough to make her permanently sick.

The monkey chatters sharply. Marisa glares. Hateful creatures, both of them, she thinks, like broken mirrors only capable of showing the worst parts. Their worst parts have grown wild in isolation, clashing all the time. Following an impulse, she holds his gaze, then sinks to her knees, leans forward – then, after a moment of consideration, growls. Her upper lip curls to show teeth. Vocal cords strain dangerously. A menacing grumble is rolling somewhere so deep in her throat she didn't know a sound like that could be produced.

Her daemon drops to all fours and mirrors the note, prowling toward her. Golden fur on his neck bristles, he even paws at the ground a couple of times as if aiming for a blow. He wouldn't dare, and neither would she, but both feel rabid for wanting to. Snarling, they inch the distance between them. Stare at each other, face to face – repulsive, repulsed, and ugly. Shivering all over. Then, as abruptly as it started, it stops.

Long – silence.

Long, long silence.

Marisa sniffs her nose and rubs it with a bent wrist before getting up. She doesn't give her soul a second look; surely, he knows when his purpose is served.

The actual, normal mirror reflects her as she is: miserable and ridiculously clothed. What was she thinking with that dress. She isn’t going to wear it, not really, not unless she wants to be skinned alive at the hearing. In a fit of irritation, she arches to reach the zipper, pulls it down, then frantically undoes it all the way. The dress is flung to the floor and lies there like a pool of dried blood.

Must have gone mad, her heart. Pounding. She’s no short of heroic trying to catch her breath, but it keeps escaping. She would love to escape too. Instead, she'll have to drag herself in front of the Consistorial Court, and let them dissect her, and pretend to be so very sorry as she’s trying to collect her own intestines afterwards.

That’s not all, though.

Biting on a nail, Marisa struggles to understand where her anxiety comes from. Leaving the house – yes, sure, because at least she knows these walls, albeit hates them; she’s made herself a proper hermit here. Spectators throwing shame, knocking on a glass cage to wake an animal. Losing every chance in life over something she had no control of. That just makes her bitter, not afraid. There’s also facing Asriel.

As soon as she thinks it, her senses are flooded.

Rage on the rocks with two fingers of fear, completely irrational. There’s nothing they can say or do to each other, now that the worst things have already been said and done, and still her head is spinning with thoughts of what she’ll say, what he'll say, how he'll look at her and if he looks at all. To be honest, she can’t lay a finger on what it is exactly that scares her. Maybe, that she'll remember the good things.

And then, there's Lyra. . .

–the reaction is instant and brutal. Her body bursts with phantom loss so excruciating she wants to gnaw her wicked arms off for recalling the sensation of holding a child. She had wished Lyra out of them, but now that she is, her whole body wants her back despite direct orders. It's irrational, too, and she growls again, guttural sounds almost prompting her daemon to look – but she is naked, so he doesn't.

What’s infinitely strange is she has never found any particular fondness in her for Lyra. Why would she? For goodness' sake, she is barely twenty-three, she has no more comprehension of being a mother than of being a panserbjørn, yet the longing, purely physical, is there. Something's changed in her, like her integrity has been compromised. Like she’s been invaded and pillaged, robbed of something she never quite wanted but is barely restraining herself from crawling on her knees after. It’s humiliating.

Is it humiliating to have had a daughter?

Daughter, what an alien word.

Her own body betrayed her when it decided to awaken and be barren no more. It wrote a love story – then branded Marisa with it as punishment for not reciprocating that love. Her breasts are still swollen. There's a soft roundness to her waist and hips, skin marked with tiny scars from stretching. Women with bodies like that are supposed to nurse children, but that's a thought as empty as her womb.

She thinks instead of standing trial for adultery. Of whispers, gossip, judging looks, and whatever comes next. If she is to survive, it’s by molding herself back into a presentable form. By getting clean, cleaner than ever. Even if clean means scraping that sad little love story off her skin with sandpaper.

It doesn’t help that, for the life of her, Marisa cannot un-feel the irreversibility of changes left in her by becoming a mother.

Especially since she hasn’t, really. She gave birth. Those are different.

She can't afford focusing on that now.

In the end, she chooses another dress: elbow-length sleeves, no cleavage. Indigo blue, like the depths of the ocean where the creatures are lurking. The monkey comes to sit at her feet, completing the armor with the last golden piece. Entice, beguile, disarm. Asriel will see through it, so let him. At least the rest won’t see the wounds.

Chapter 2

[ameliandil]

Art for chapter 1 of Hidden Phantom! Edward and Danny sitting on their couch, watching television and grading papers. The view is from behind them.

My beta reader is J05U_404 and I had the help of Snow_Siren with polyamory-related things (both people are on on AO3)!

From this chapter:

By the time Danny comes back to the kitchen, Edward is popping popcorn and reading. He needs to grade a few assignments from the architecture class he added (unfortunately, he has to teach it, which means grading. Disgusting. And with the parent-teacher conference in a few weeks and reports coming out soon, Edward cannot afford to get behind on it.). Thankfully, it’s just six papers since the class is small, and they’re only one paragraph each. Some of his students are very long-winded though, which means paragraphs approximately the size of the Angkor Wat. Conveniently, that temple is exactly the topic.

The first analysis is fine, though it leaves out some details. The second, well, even at a short glance, Edward knows it will be messy. He glances up at the creak of the refrigerator door opening.

Danny is poking around in the refrigerator, and after a few moments he fishes out a cup of yoghurt and sits down beside Edward with his own small stack of quizzes and a sticker booklet. He flicks the TV on and they both listen to the news and grade, leaning gently against each other.

Every few minutes they bump elbows as they write feedback, and after some time Edward nudges the bowl of popcorn in Danny’s direction. Danny grabs a few with his left hand and keeps writing with his right, murmuring a soft thank you.

About a half hour into their Saturday night routine, words catch Edward’s attention.

“Breaking news: a situation is developing in downtown Chicago where what appears to be a large robot and a group of unknown individuals are fighting. What these individuals are is a mystery because all of them seem to be…superpowered?”

[morrisxn02]

✍︎ @ronanzng

Few things are more soothing than studying amidst nature… Nothing hits like the quiet rustling of the leaves on the trees above, the soft hum of the wind like a banshee’s wail, or the warm crepuscular spring breeze while you devour pages and pages of books. Especially at a cemetery. Especially when you are preparing a lecture on Edgar Allan Poe.

And, in the center of that morbidly beautiful portrait, sits Edward Morrison, a funny, anachronistic figure. Back languidly resting against a tree, long legs spread on the ground, almost touching a headstone nearby, a book in his hands and an iPad on his lap, emanating its cold, modern glow, almost as if violating the old, sacred grounds he chose as his place of study. He has been at it for hours now, so hypnotized by his readings that he barely notices the passing of time – the setting sun, the shadows of the tombstones growing longer and wider on the grass, and the chirping of the crickets and cicadas in the distance.

A twig breaks on the grass somewhere. His head jerks up instantly. Shit. What time is it? He turns to his watch, arms pointing 5:58. Time to go. Darkness will come soon, and as much as he enjoys the company of ghosts during the day, he is smart enough not to trust them after dark.

Another twig breaks. And another. Footsteps.

His first thought is the obvious one. A threat. A killer, a raptor, or maybe even G, if he is lucky enough… But quickly discards his preoccupations. Neither of those three would have been so careless as to make so much noise if they wanted to catch him. So, he jumps to the most plausible explanation, that the noise is probably just another student wandering around the cemetery for whatever reason. But as the footsteps get closer, he cannot fight his urge to discover the identity of his companion. So, he stands there like a statue, arms crossed, eyes narrow, as a silhouette comes into view.

Muscles strain, nails dig into palms, nostrils flare. Edward did not expect he would encounter any ghosts today. But alas, there he stands, in all his nocturnal glory. The spirit of Ronan Zeng…

Edward holds his glare for a second, takes his measure, and turns around.

In the past, Ronan would be greeted with the most affectionate smile, Rone!, Edward would exclaim, unceremoniously wrapping an arm around his shoulders. But now, there is nothing but contempt, and coldness, and silence.

He hurriedly shoves his things into his messenger bag and starts towards Ronan. Maybe out of spite, maybe because he wanted a reaction. “Are you just going to stand in my fucking way?” He grunts, purposefully pushing past him with his shoulder.

[fuckmeyer]

Hi! I’ve been reading Come Nightfall and have a few questions. Because English is not my first language, I found some parts hard to understand. I’m mostly fluent, but things that are more poetic/ambiguous confuse me. Would you mind explaining this sentence? “Considering everyone of consequence is either drunk or strung out on opiates, I’m assuming we have the run of the place for now.” I know what it means in pieces (for example, I know drunk, strung out on opiates, and run of the place), I don’t understand the semantic meaning (I think). Are the Volturi “drunk” on blood? Why would that mean Edward and Bells have the run of the place? Also, and I think this one is probably dumb, but in the reunion chapter, why is she wearing a dress - was that just something that I missed while reading? Thank you so much for your help. I appreciate it. I hope it’s not annoying! I love your fic a lot and want to make sure I understand everything I’m reading. I hope it’s okay for me to ask for this help!

hi anon, thank you very much for reading & sending me a message!! no need to worry!! i have an L2 too, so i've been in your shoes. i'm also a certified Teaching English as a Foreign Language instructor, so it's always ok to ask me for help! no judgment :)

“Considering everyone of consequence is either drunk or strung out on opiates, I’m assuming we have the run of the place for now.”

sounds like the confusion stems from an unexplained change in canon's lore! Meyer says vampires cannot get intoxicated from drinking an intoxicated human's blood. in my version, they can. so, yes, the Volturi are drunk on blood. they gave a bunch of humans wine & chocolates laced with opiates & drank them.

(the opiates were hinted at but never stated, so maybe that was confusing too. Giannia mentions "oppiaceo in chocolate” in chapter 27, Alec mentions "special chocolate" in 28, & we see the woman with the rosary pass out after eating one at the end of the same chapter.)

because everyone in the Volturi - guards, kings, etc. - was impaired, the odds that anyone would catch Edward & Bells committing a crime in Volterra (i.e. breaking into the pharmacy) was very slim. hence E&B "had their run of the place"

in the reunion chapter, why is she wearing a dress?

Alice made Bells change into a dress to make her more presentable for the Volturi. there was a line in chapter 26 where Alice asks Bells to grab a black dress from the trunk of the Mercedes. but the reason why was deleted during editing! so, that one was my mistake :) thank you for letting me know

tl;dr for both questions - it's not you, it's me!!

if you ever have any other questions, please don't hesitate to reach out! i'm always happy to help :) thank you again for reading. cheers!

[thevampirearchive]

Twilight Thoughts (ranting again)

The thing is, if Stephanie had wanted to make a third book, i.e eclipse, - which was unnecessary, boring and weird, we could have had some type of unhinged plot twist where Charlie is revealed to be a Werewolf (unknowingly) and Bella is one too, but due to them being separated from their pack, they've never turned. That could for one explain why Edward and Aro can't read her thoughts, not why Alice can see her future... Also why Charlie's only friends are literal wolves and why he is team Jake (please Billy probably knows he's a werewolf but hasn't shifted and most likely never will). The scene of her scent was giving disgust and perhaps that should have been a hint too, but since she is not 100% one, it could explain why he got used to it (and I bet vampire's feeding on a werewolf is a different experience due to their blood probably being even better)

Bella being a female wolf would also explain her intense 'I feel at home with the black's' and that extreme loyalty to Jake. They were good friends but to consider your baby to be named E.J Junior is so unhinged. This girl looked Jake in the eyes and said her wedding was completed/perfect now that he had showed up... bestie, what?

As said, Eclipse was unnecessary. It was for the Team Jacob girlies because someone unfamiliar with the franchise would have been able to go from New Moon to breaking dawn. All that would need to be explain would be - where is Victoria (which I will get to later) The vampire army is nowhere near New moon, so a whole new plot point for what?

The plot that is Victoria's revenge is so.... human. I don't know what Vampire would go to this length to kill a HUMAN because Edward killed James ??? Most vampire media emphasis heavily on the fact that death being so common means the girlies either move on with ease, stay mad but still keep it pushing or they take themselves out. My VC girlies will know that despite Lestat and Armand's hatred for each other, the two probably send each other Christmas gifts with letters of how much they hate each other, but also Happy Christmas hope your well. Vampires circles aren't big, so to be out here full blown trying to go to war is so pointless and I would have enjoyed Victoria moving on, wait for Bella to be a vampire and THEN been her sworn enemy that occasionally have drinks over 'the good ol' days'. To be alive for an eternity and still bitter over a man (james) who disregarded the 7 against 2/3 ods is wild. Vic, I want better for you. Bonus; The volturi never catching wind or ending things was so weird. What's the point of a Vampire Coven if they only arrive after the battle? what are they? the police, come on...

The scene with Laurent is the most sensible vampire thing this movie has had. He wanted to mercy kill her because he knew a life of being chased would probably be worst then him just eating her (vampire logic is my favorite) and he was even willing to make it pain free. It's not like he was being cruel in my eyes, he genuinely things that is a better option then to face Victoria's wrath, and I cannot say I do not agree -- I just wished her option could be getting turned.

Bella would have never married Edward if it wasn't for the promise of vampirism. I do believe she loved him, but I also believe Stephanie and her religion had to come first. It's funny because I doubt any Mormon knows of twilight and approves, so why not just go all the way and - Make the 3 MC's (it is a stretch to call Jake that but we were force-fed this dude so I may as well) a Poly couple, especially after showing that Jake and Edward basically want to bang (my interpretation. I have never seen people loath each other yet be 2 inches away every argument, kiss already) - Not have Bella enter a weird 'I am a feminine female' era, and leave her to be the Buch flannel lesbian she was written as. She gives such overwhelming male energy, and Edward gives such overwhelming female energy, it is fun to watch them. - Have Charlie know about the vampires & werewolves already in New Moon. I do not know where the Charlie disrespect came from but it needed to stop, he's one of the 3 main-best dads.

Jasper's character was irrelevant and only served the purpose of training them on how to kill new-borns. Why doesn't Carlisle know that? Isn't he from the 15th Hundreds? Has he never faced similar problems?.

Alice power is wack, she can predict the future but it is not something she can control? (much like Aro, Jane, Edward etc can) It changes depending on if the person changes their mind (???) and she only sees it right before it will happen? How did she see that Bella was going to be a vampire but never predicted pregnancy? or that Bella was find after her diving? or who the new borns were? Why is her power's so inconsistent, complicated and in somewhat useless? Stephanie should have instead combined Jasper and Alice power (mood manipulation and short sighted visions that allowed her to at least see a bit ahead, none of that 'I see far out but also what is right Infront of me is a blur', it could have been explained with her possibly being heavily affected by the mood's of those around her, and that is why she is able to manipulate it)

The volturi arch should have been much larger, because we finally see how much stronger vampires they are (and that exist in the world besides the Cullen) but they are the representation of the Catholic Church so of course they have to appear useless and evil lol come on Stephanie, leave your faith at the door and give us a masterpiece how you did with Twilight and New Moon!

Imprinting would have been fine if the premise was Soul Mates and feelings are reciprocated, but it is only activated at a certain age (much like werewolves only realizing what they are at a certain age) or if it wasn't 10/10 times explained as ending romantically. If the audience (us) were shown and told that imprinting has resulted in just being best friends or happened amongst family member (tighter bond), we would not have been throwing up audibly. But no, they have the imprint gang laughing and kissing at the beach, then pan over to Embry and the toddler... like please how did no one in that writer's room for the movies (or an editor) ask Stephanie if she was okay in the head. The scene of Renaissance and Jake on the beach watching a sunset? baby is 6 second old and they already about to make out, please someone cut the cameras.

No one knowing vampire's and humans can procreate is so... weak. Especially when a vampire baby HAS BEEN BORN, I just know Carlisle was beating himself up about not worrying. This would have never happened if Bella had been turned before. I do not see why they needed to wait.

Lastly, Bobo should have been casted as Jake - I do not understand why he needed to be ripped to shreds at 15-16, when the other pack-members looked regular/strong. Bobo fit the description better. imo, and isn't a white man. But he is much younger then the others/franchise, so they'd have had to have filmed much later in the 2000's... And the cast overall is so good.

[dru-reblogs-stuff]

I posted 6,743 times in 2022

28 posts created (0%)

6,715 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/derinthescarletpescatarian

@/fireflysummers

@/headspace-hotel

@/tracle0

I tagged 6,685 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#q - 6,551 posts

#snrk 🤣 - 1,484 posts

#cute - 437 posts

#nature - 388 posts

#landscape - 245 posts

#planes trains and automobiles - 156 posts

#history - 151 posts

#eat all the things - 148 posts

#lbgt+ - 142 posts

#<3 - 137 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i'll prob go again tomorrow and maybe take a better vid of the waves from the sandy bit of beach. it was so clear but there were a lot of

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ten characters, ten fandoms

I was tagged by @downontheupside, thanks Choi <3

Hiccup, How to Train your Dragon: Race to the Edge

Meredith Gruksdottir, Titan Fighting Fantasy (Ssshh I know this is my friend's character, but we're a fandom all on our two-some, I swear)

Modryn Oreyn, TESIV: Oblivion

Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV, Cowboy Bebop

Kei, Dirty Pair Flash

Thorin, son of Thrain, The Hobbit (films)

Sara Parvan, The Undeclared War

Donna Noble, Doctor Who (10th Doc)

Darian Frey, Tales of the Ketty Jay

Sypha Belnades, Castlevania (TV show)

Tagging: Anyone who fancies playing! (I really need to get a general games taglist ^.^')

4 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

#4

Happy Tag Game

I got retagged in this by @my-writblr, TY cariad :D

Rules: When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications! :)

I just got a new desk! So much more space :D My brother kindly helped me with a tip-run so I also have less crap in the house overall ^.^

LIFX bulbs - Mine died a few months ago, so I've been putting up with a crappy CFL which makes waking up - even in summer - really difficult and makes me feel disassociated in the evening. I've just got a new LIFX bulb; being slowly woken by a bright white light in the mornings is wonderful.

Sun puddles - Now summer is getting closer, there're more puddles of sunlight in the lounge and the desire to just curl up and sleep in them is way too strong ^.^;

My tiny balcony garden (and adjacent indoor plants). Spurred on by the new desk purchase, I went out and bought some balcony baskets, so now my "garden" consists of: a blueberry bush from last year (B/Day gift from my Mum); an unwanted tomato plant from my Uncle; two flower pots; a strawberry plant; a Bird of Paradise; a cactus, a succulent, and an Amaryllis.

Having short hair - I hate having long hair during the summer, it's hard to handle, makes my face hot and itchy and is just a PITA. So I got it cut recently, and now it's blissfully short again :D

As I don't have a general tag games list, I'm going to tag the last 10 people in my notifs as instructed.

Dear last 10 people in my notifs, please feel free to ignore this if you don't fancy playing.

@lavender-hued-melancholy, @nostalgic-breton-girl, @downontheupside, @chasing-givenchy, @sleepyowlwrites, @endless-navigator, @asphaltvalkyrie, @strosmkai-rum, @catharticallysarcastic, @aalinaaaaaa

5 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

#3

Get to Know Tag

I got tagged in this by @iparisaltanwing and @lowslore. Thanks guys <3

Rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know/catch up with

Favorite color: Still purple, but am very much enjoying the “it’s just snowed and now the sky is clear again” brilliant-but-somehow-translucent blue

Last song: The Gent and I listened to a lot of classical rock while cooking over the Xmas break, but I cannot recall the last one I heard. Probably something by AC/DC or Led Zeppelin ^.^;

Currently reading: Nothing; I am between worlds right now. However I got given a load of books over Xmas, so I’ll probably start with “Rain: Four Walks in English Weather“ by Melissa Harrison

Last movie at home: Wish Dragon. It’s basically “Aladdin, only the Genie is a Dragon”, but it still gave me a punch to the heart.

Sweet, savory, or spicy: Spicy. I’m having a small craving for something with ginger in it rn (although I’m still all three as and when)

Currently working on: A prompt from the Homestead’s Fall Prompt Week; as yet untitled, it’s a short story turning the concept of good/ evil being light/ dark on its head. Also the first draft of The Ruby Falls, a modern/ fix-it AU of TESIV: Oblivion.

Tagging: @strosmkai-rum @chauceryfairytales @morganwriteblr @warriorbookworm @odysseywritings @spacetimewraithwrites @jaguarthecat @dreamwishing @alias-levi (IDK who’s still active or still wants tag games, so please let me know if you want taken off this list)

6 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

#2

Autumn This-or-That

Yoinked from @blind-the-winds, because it looked fun.

tea or hot chocolate | cozy books or halloween movies | plaid or corduroy | foggy mornings or twinkly nights | orange or black | pumpkin or apple pie | wool or velvet | picking fruit or carving pumpkins | libraries or coffee shops | cinnamon or peanut butter | spooky or cozy halloween | candles or fairy lights

Tagging: @lavender-hued-melancholy, @nostalgicyorkshiregirl and anyone else who fancies!

8 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Pass the happy! Tag Game 🌻

Rules: When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications! :)

I also got tagged by @shadowlight-inkedthoughts in this, the same million years ago ^.^' Hom...

Being so close to finally getting a certain someone out of my life

Rediscovering my passion for cooking

Yummy teas (raspberry lemonade, my beloved)

Yummy cocktails (went out to dinner now restrictions are lifting and had a Cherry Bakewell cocktail)

Lego flowers

I'm going to tag my usual writeblr tag game list. Again, this is outside the scope of that list, so there's zero pressure to play.

@strosmkai-rum @spacetimewraithwrites @wildswrites @tetrodotoxincs @odysseywritings @ayzrules @morganwriteblr @my-writblr @bexminx @writingingraves @dreamwishing @aalinaaaaaa @wardenoftheabyss @pleaseloathemyveryexistence @jaguarthecat @alias-levi

11 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review ���

[1d1195]

SAM MY LOVE I MISSED YOU SO MUCHHHHH!!!!😭 it felt so weird not being able to talk to you😭 how are you my love?!? How was your break?!?

AHHHH SO MUCH TO CATCH UP ON BESTIE!!!

And you’re right we really are so similar that I honestly did not take it in a bad way! If anything I always appreciate your insight! Exams were hell but like it’s whatever at this point lol I have one last round of midterms in two weeks before my finals so I will be ✨suppressing✨ my feelings on that until I’m done bahaha BUT OMG I QUESTION MY FRIENDS CHOICES TOO BAHAHA I have had a history girl…. It’s a lot for sure for another day lol AND OMG SAM HOT PROFESSOR 😵‍💫 he’s sooooo omg I could cry bc he’s so hot and I seriously always spiral in class lol he puts effort in his fits but like still does not look exaggerated anyways idk if I mentioned before but HES A BIKER!!! And he’s so sweet and he always ends class with “see ya later gang” like 😭 THE DILF VIBES THAT HE EMITTS ARE CRAZY😭

Yeah I can totally agree with obsessions and the TOLL that it is lol like I feel so bad for my parents that they wasted so much money on me shopping at hot topic 😭 anyways still was fun though lol I definitely wish I had that energy again bc I simply cannot keep up anymore lol

Bestie I read part 3 and IT WAS SO GOOD !! SO MANY THOUGHTS HONESTLY oh and I read the sun kissed extra!!! So many thoughts!!! I will try to get my main points and reactions bc I feel like I wrote already too much lol

I LITERALLY WAS SO EXCITED FOR SUN KISSED EXTRA!!! I voted for that one and was surprised that it wasn’t voted on too much :( BUT IT WAS DIFFICULT TO CHOOSE BC I LOVE ALL OF THEM! Anyways I MISSED THEM SO MUCH I LITERALLY LOVE THAT STORY SOLEY BC WHERE IM FROM THE BEACH IS A BIG DEAL! Anyways I can’t believe they are moving together and Harry literally transferred to her district 😭😭😭 CRYYYYYYYY I HOPE WE CAN GET MORE OF THEM!

NOW PART 3 WAS SOOOO GOOD!!! You know I love when Harry gets jealous and possessive😵‍💫 and omg TELL ME WHY I HAVE A KYLE IN KY LIFE BAHAHAH but Kyle was so cute and honestly kinda loved he stood up for the MC and essentially was ready to go to war for her🥰 bahah anyways THEY ARE OFFICIAL NOW WHICH IS SO CUTE!!! I LOVE THEM QND IM LIVING THEOUGH THEM RN!!! I have a Kyle and all I need is a Harry 😩

Missed you so much Sam! Thank you for constantly putting out such lovely content❤️-💜

HIIIIII I've missed you SOOOOO much. I hope your exams went well, I'm sure you aced them! That seems so crazy you have midterms and you're already thinking about finals! I feel like the semester just started! I knew you were busy all week but by Friday I literally was like "Ughhh where is she!?" My break was good! Very boring, nothing to really chat about. I finished a book last week and I'm about half way through this one--it's very good. I actually think YOU would like the book I finished because I did not hahahahahahahaha don't get me wrong it was VERY well written and I did like it, but it was so stressful and not what I usually read. The Lost Girls of Willowbrook. Very creepy in my opinion.

ANYWAY.

YOU DID MENTION HE WAS A BIKER BUT I ALWAYS APPRECIATE THE REMINDER. We love a well-dressed DILF. I'm so glad you're able to learn in that environment. I would be a stuttering mess and would probs do something embarrassing like tell him I loved him or write our names together in a notebook. Did you see the pics of Harry at Manchester soccer game? He looked very DILF-y too🤤😍 I was spiraling myself.

HOT TOPIC I'M SCREAMING. I got my Edward shirt from Hot Topic and I wore it every night to bed like a a LUNATIC. (Now much more appropriately, I wear my Harry's House to bed and do NOT feel like a lunatic). But you're right I do not have the energy anymore. The CONSPIRACIES and THEORIES people have I am so overwhelmed, I don't know what to say. I'm not a Swiftie (not an anti-Swiftie either) but HOLY COW. "She wore purple so that means--" "The date adds up to the number 13" "In 2010 on this date she posted this so in 2024 that means this" ?????? THAT'S CRAZY, but like good for them. I'm in awe tbh.

Aw! I'm so glad you voted for them! I have another round of voting coming this week and I feel like it will be VERY split five different ways hahahaha I'm a beach girl as well! I feel like it's one of the only things I have a good grasp on writing about because it was so entrenched in my childhood. I don't know if I have any other ideas for them at the moment (I feel like all the couples I've been writing about lately/voted on are getting engaged this week and next week 🤭 --spoiler/not spoiler: not MFT they're just babies). But I can try and come up with something eventually. I gotta reshare my draft list so everyone can see inside my head, it's getting wilder by the minute.

I'm currently writing the 4th part to MFT and I feel like the first two parts were really good and parts 3 and 4 are very 🤷‍♀️ I'm so glad you liked Kyle! (I wanted to name him Noah actually but I think I mentioned I'm a big Noah Kahan fan right now and it was too coincidental; I noticed when I had his character say "that makes a lot of sense" and I was like "okay, Samantha, that's a literal song lyric, make it more obvious." So I renamed him Kyle). Idk if you read Icebreaker (it was very big on TikTok for a while) Kyle is modeled after Henry a bit. He's a cutie pie 😊

TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR KYLE!?!?!?!?! 😍

SO happy to hear from you, hope you had a relaxing weekend after a busy week, sorry for the novel rambling in response but you should not feel bad about writing too much. It's always the highlight of my day when I get a message from you! 💕

xoxo

[akinmablog]

Thank you for tagging me @graygiantess

This looks so much fun. Also, I must know what was in the box.

Anyway!

┈┈·✦·┈┈

File names

The Fledgling ch 22 (Devil's Minion, IWTV)

Priest AU Continued (Devil's Minion, IWTV)

One Big Happy Murder Family AU (Hannigram, Hannibal)

His Name Was Edward (Jekyllstein, Penny Dreadful)

Stalker-Murderer AU (Devil's Minion, IWTV

┈┈·✦·┈┈

Snippet from Stalker-Murderer AU (Because I started writing that one today):

There is a man in his house.

He’s sitting on the couch with one arm thrown over the back and his foot resting on his opposite knee. His cold eyes flicker to Daniel as soon as he steps into view and a slow smile crosses his face as he stares into his wide, unbelieving gaze.

“Hello, Daniel,” The man says, far too familiar for strangers. His voice is light with an unexpected warmth, and an accent that Daniel cannot place in his surprise, or perhaps one that is too mixed to unravel.

“Who – What – How –,” Daniel makes for the door, but stops when the man raises the hand hidden behind the back of the couch, a light catching on the silver edge of his knife.

“Don’t,” The man commands simply, his once warm voice suddenly cold and bitter, like frost enveloped his vocal cords.

Daniel stills.

The man’s smile returns, but he keeps his weapon in view. Tilting his head to the side, the man’s eyes move over Daniel’s body slowly, taking in every inch of him with a strange burning hidden in his stare. He stands easily, his tall frame unexpected, before crossing the room and stopping merely inches from Daniel. The knife is still in his hand.

Daniel’s breath catches, the base of his throat growing tight, as the man leans forward. He stifles his urge to speak, to beg, as the man’s head goes to the side of his neck but jumps in surprise when soft lips brush against the sensitive skin below his ear. Daniel watches as the man steps away again, an all too pleased smile pulling at his lips like some kind of murderous Cheshire Cat.

“What the hell?” Daniel asks before he can stop himself.

“You are much more eloquent in your articles,” The man says over his shoulder as he walks across the room again and sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to him like he expects Daniel to join him.

“What the hell?” Daniel repeats, his voice growing louder and angrier as he continues to watch the unusual man sitting in his living room – breaking into his home – like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do on a Friday evening.

The man laughs, the sound like gentle windchimes, before tossing the knife onto the table in front of him and leaning back into the couch, his lean body slouching as he laid his head to the side, looking up at Daniel hopefully, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He traces the cushion next to him with his fingertips, his eyes darkening as whatever it is he’s thinking about seems to overwhelm his thoughts.

“Who the hell are you?” Daniel demands, keeping his back to the wall as his eyes flicker to where the knife lay, still in reach.

“You know who I am,” The man says with a smile that brightens his features and turns his face almost angelic. “You’ve written about me enough,” He says, shrugging.

“What are you –,” Daniel stops. He blinks. His shoulders fall.

Daniel was writing a serial about a string of murders that had occurred over the last eight months. Each victim was abducted and, two weeks later, was found dumped in a nearby pile of trash, signs of experimentation covering their lifeless bodies. Tabloids call him The Scientist, but Daniel just calls him a psycho.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel mumbles, running his shaking hand over his face before letting his head drop back against the wall. His agents always told him his writing was going to get him killed one day. He was never very good at taking their advice.

“You have a dirty mouth, Daniel,”

┈┈·✦·┈┈

I'm just gonna cheat and do an open tag thing because I think everyone I know has already been tagged so if you see this, and want to take part, please feel free to.

WIP Wednesday Game

Thanks for the tag @showmey0urfangs!

Rules:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

┈┈·✦·┈┈

File names (All these are for IWTV):

One Hour 👮‍♂️😈🥵

WLIH ch14 💅🐕☕

Home for Christmas 🎄❤💏

Snack 🎄👪🎁

Nickistat 🍷💏🥵

┈┈·✦·┈┈

Snippet from Snack (WIP for the Eternal Yuletide Christmas bingo, prompt 'family time'):

Rue Royale, Christmas Eve 1918

“Claudia, come have a look.”

Daddy Lou is in the courtyard and he’s got a big box. He’s gesturing for her to come outside, looking around with a twinkle in his eye, like he’s got a secret to share.

It’s Christmas Eve and Claudia has already changed into her new dress. Uncle Les bought it for her and it’s perfect. It’s cream-colored with gold trim and matching gold slippers, and he said it makes her look like a little cherub of death, which made her feel real special.

Uncle Les understands her in ways Daddy Lou doesn’t.

Uncle Les also said not to get the dress dirty and it rained earlier so maybe she shouldn’t go outside. She doesn’t want to get him grumpy, not at Christmas.

But she really wants to see what’s in the box.

Daddy Lou gestures again and she runs outside, laughing, careful not to step on the soggy grass.

“What it it?” she asks before she even reaches him. The box looks like a present – shiny green paper with a fancy yellow bow on top.

“I’ll show you. C’mere.”

Daddy Lou rests the box against his hip so he has one hand free and takes off the lid.

Claudia peeks inside and squeals. "[REDACTED]?!"

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And that's where I'll leave it for now. 😈

┈┈·✦·┈┈

Tagging (no pressure!) @bandedbulbussnarfblat @akinmablog @allegra-writes @saintrayne @faerywhimsy

[powermakar]

Hiii!! Could you please write something for Ethan Edwards where the reader doesn't know how to skate and he teaches her? And it's absolutely adorable? And like she falls but he catches her and stuff? Thank youu !!

Brace for Impact - Ethan Edwards

This is an adorable idea and I hope this is what you had in mind!

word count: 328

“We should go skating tonight!” Ethan says excitedly.

“Ethan, you know damn well I cannot skate to save my life,” you say looking at him.

“It’s fine, you are dating a college hockey player so I’m sure I will be able to teach you how to skate before the night is even over,” he says smirking. You reluctantly agree and go to grab the skates your mom bought you last year for Christmas.

Once you get to the rink you attempt to tie your own skates but Ethan ends up tying them for you so you “don’t break your ankles” - his words not mine. If you couldn’t even tie your own skates you definitely wouldn’t be able to skate on your own.

“Okay so first you are going to push your right foot out in front of you while turning it out a little,” he explains. “Now just lift your left foot and do the exact same,”. Following his exact directions, you are able to skate but very, very wobbly. “You are doing great, hun!” he says beaming.

“I think I’m doing great!” you say excitedly. But then you spoke too soon as you hit a divot in the ice and you were thrown through the air. You braced for impact but you just landed on something soft. You looked down and realized it was Ethan who was laying on the ice with you on top of him. “Oh my God Ethan! I am so sorry! Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?” you ramble on.

“Y/n, it's okay, I'm good. I take harder hits than that in a game plus you weigh like nothing,” Ethan says laughing. You quickly give him a small kiss and get back up.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You joke, skating off. All Ethan could do was watch you skate with admiration in running through his veins.

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, chasing you around the rink.

[always-andromeda]

HELURRRRR I hope ur having a wonderful day!!!! Or night BUTTTTTT now hear me out I was listening to hellfire from hunchback of Norte Dame what if the riddler(Dano) felt that way of the reader 👀👀👀 but the reader also felt the same way? If yk what I mean but if u don’t or can’t write that’s fine 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I hope you have good day/ night :))))

Hellfire | Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Word Count | 893

Author’s Note | I need him to pine over me. I need him to feel the most eerie obsessive possessiveness over me. And I need him to feel soooo guilty. Edward Nashton is not a want anymore he’s a need. Also, even though my requests were closed by the time I got this, I listened to the song and got such a little burst of inspiration so I couldn’t just be like “ahaha no.” So indulge in my fantasy and pretend this boy wouldn’t absolutely die over having a one night stand lol.

Warnings | allusions to smut near the end, Edward is unhinged and possessive, nothing else I can think of!

How dare you look at him like that. Like he could ever mean anything more to you than what a fraction of a night could offer. The way you sway hypnotizes him. The bleary eyed glazed over, weary haze that seems to hold everyone in Gotham hostage. It's a look he's become so familiar with since you started working in his building. If you weren’t so eye-catching, Edward Nashton might not have thought twice before passing right over you. After all, you're the only reason he came to this godforsaken bar.

He might’ve allowed you to escape. But you had luck on your side. Or perhaps a curse. Depends on your persuasion.

Either way, creatures like you cannot possibly comprehend the darkness that engulfs this city; the darkness that he will eradicate. He will set you free.

You don’t go for guys like him. Can’t tolerate nervous little outcasts who stare from across bars at pretty people, imagining what they’d do instead of just doing it. Maybe if daylight were peeking through the windows and he was at his day job, he’d stay like that. But it seems the shroud of night gives him courage to properly approach you.

“Could I get you a drink?”

“No,” your smile is tight and close lipped. It signals to him that you’re smart. That he’d need to work a little harder to see the real grin that he bets is right underneath the surface.

Edward muses, “Good choice.”

“Hm?” You heard him make some sort of sound. Of course he mumbles to himself. Even if he'd had a drink or two, he was still the same nervous Edward you'd barely spoken to more than a handful of times in the break room.

He clears his throat, “Nothing. I was just thinking…it’s a good choice.”

You laugh once, not finding an ounce of amusement other than in the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket. Still as clueless as ever.

“Why? Were you planning on doing something to said drink?”

It’s a morbid joke that Edward waves off ferociously. His face pinches up in disgust, “I would never hurt someone like you.”

As if there’s a spirit behind those thick rimmed glasses that could hurt someone. And you were simply fortunate enough to not be considered a target. His tone sends a chill up your spine and inspires a fluttering flame deep in your belly.

The Edward you knew from the accounting department wouldn't hurt a fly. He simply hunched over his desk, working through numbers you were sure you'd never understand. He's not exactly a threat. But still unknown enough to you that you weren't sure which psychical sensation you'd let take over.

“If you’re trying to pick me up…I’m not sure if that’s a good reason for me to actually trust you.”

“Then all I ask is for your time.” The words come out like a promise. Curled around the edge of the sweetest little smile you've ever seen. Colored lights flashing off his glasses and staring right through you, Edward looks almost boyish. A shadow of some sort of child you may have recognized within yourself.

It has you following at his feet as he drags you to a bathroom. Has you clenching your teeth through a wince as he lifts you on the countertop and pushes you all the way back against the wall with the sheer weight of his body. No matter how much he had towered over you, it had never once struck you that he could be this strong. But you bend at his will and submit to the fire igniting inside as he kisses you.

The rough pad of his thumb holding your chin in place, it allows the warm muscle of his tongue to take control of the situation. He's obviously inexperienced; dry lips only being helped by the spit he can't control. Yet he's nowhere near nervous as he paws at the most hidden corners of your being under the dingy bathroom light.

His frantic mouth pauses long enough for him to whisper, “You have a choice.”

You miss the lingering taste of alcohol as he pulls away only slightly, “I do?”

Edward's voice shifts into something different. Firm and eager to pry into your darkest secrets. “You can choose the pyre of this city. Or you can choose me.”

It's an intensity that only fans the flame; turns it white hot and blistering. This single bathroom is far too small to hold all the energy that has built between you and him. The air depletes so quickly, your brain won't even let you second guess how this will snuff out in the end. Because, surely, it will. Connections like these rarely leave their subjects unscathed.

Would it be so bad to submit to his untamed power? To let him wrap himself around you entirely? To feel him suffocate you with all of the love he can possibly manage to give? Put it that way and it sounds as romantic as it does dangerous.

Still, you reply breathlessly, “You. Only you, Eddie."

This time, he is clear as day as he says, "Good choice."

As his mouth returns wetly to your pulse, all you hear is him giggling, the jangle of his belt being unbuckled, and the relentless pounding of a roaring hellfire consuming you.