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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 7 months ago

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be my daddy tonight

pairing: real dad! chris x reader

cw: father-daughter incest, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, spit, slight degradation, dirty talk, accidental creampie, size kink

a/n: this is a commission for an anonymous commissioner! this is dark/taboo content, so please heed the warnings, and do not read this if incest makes you uncomfortable.

wc: 3.1k

Every time your dad comes home from God knows where, fighting God knows what, he seems more tired than the last. It’s been well-over a year since you last saw him in person. He often goes days without contacting you as well, so the moment he comes in the door feels like the second coming of Jesus Christ. Over the past few weeks you’d considered the possibility that he was KIA, but since he’d – informally – left the BSAA to form his own squad, there was no one to tell you if that was the case or not. His face aged ten years in the past two, but his eyes – gloomy and kind – stayed the same.

He doesn’t even have time to take his jacket off before you run to him, nearly knocking the wind out of him when your body crashes against his. His grip on you is tight – there’s no escaping a father’s love.

“Daddy, I missed you,” you cry into his chest. You rarely ever call him ‘daddy’, not since you were a little kid.

“Missed you too, kiddo.” He slips off his boots and puts his jacket on the coat hanger. “I gotta get some rest now, but we can talk all day tomorrow, do whatever you want.”

Your expression drops. It was false hope, anyway. “Dad?” Your lip quivers, making your words come out blubbered. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

It’s not off-putting, but still out of the ordinary.

“Uh- yeah, I guess- if it’ll make you feel better.” He can’t stand to see you on the verge of tears so he has to let you have your way.

“I love you,” you say in lieu of thanking him.

“Love you, too.”

You forget how big your dad is until you sleep next to him. He manages to take up at least half the bed. If he turns over in his sleep, he’ll send you tumbling onto the floor. Though you both wonder if he’ll be able to sleep at all with his insomnia. For the first time in forever, he truly rests, and when he’s dead asleep next to you, he wraps his arm around your side and pulls you closer, so you’re stuck to him until morning.

It’s the best sleep of his life. Chris would suggest sleeping in the same bed every night if he hadn’t woken up with his dick fully hard.

When he was a teenager, this happened all the time. No rhyme or reason. As a man approaching fifty, he can’t remember the last time he’s had morning wood. He quickly shifts away from you in the hopes that you won’t notice. But you do. You could save him the humiliation and choose not to mention it, but you decide it’ll be more awkward if you don’t acknowledge it.

“It’s no big deal, dad,” you say. “It happens.” Because it does. It happened to your ex-boyfriend almost every night you slept over at his place.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he stands up, taking his boner out of the situation and into a refreshing shower. He thinks the cool water will make his dick go down but it doesn’t. He can’t will it away, so there’s really only one solution. Jerking off is normal, but jerking off when his daughter is in the other room feels wrong, even if she doesn’t know about it.

He tries not to think about you. He thinks about your mother – who passed away a few years back, so that gets him closer to tears than to an orgasm. He changes course – he thinks about Pamela Anderson in Baywatch, he thinks about that one scene in Basic Instinct where you can see up Sharon Stone’s dress if you’re really good at pausing the TV, he even tries thinking about Jill for a moment just to get his mind off of you.

But it doesn’t work. He woke up with your ass pressed up against his cock, not Pamela Anderson’s, not Sharon Stone’s – yours. You did this to him.

Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been struck by a similar feeling of arousal. Since your last breakup, you haven’t had sex. You’re not big into one-night stands. You prefer sex with someone you trust, someone you love… and then it dawns on you: your perfect match is your dad. You love him, you trust him, and objectively, he’s hot. You’ve tried to rid your mind of that last thought, but it’s a simple truth. Your dad is the human embodiment of sex with his strong, toned arms, his big hands, calloused from years of fighting, his tired eyes that flicker with hope when he sees your face. He loves you, he lives for you, he’d die for you – so, would it really be that wrong for him to fuck you? Honestly, you think, he deserves a thank you for taking care of you for all these years, sacrificing his own safety and sanity for yours. What’s a better present than pussy? Clearly it’s what he wants, right?

Admittedly, you’ve considered what your dad’s dick might look like — you’ve always been a curious person. You assumed it’d be big, and your suspicions were confirmed earlier that morning when you felt it through his sweatpants, but your curiosity is not satisfied - you need to see it, to touch it, to taste it. Your thoughts are interrupted by your dad walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He must’ve forgotten you were in his bed, or assumed you’d left the room.

You both take a guilty glance at each other, unable to resist the urge. The sight of him – sparse water droplets on his skin along with old scars, the v-line of his hips, his surprisingly well-trimmed chest hair, and most of all, the tiny patch of dark hair from his belly button down his abdomen (theoretically, it ends at the base of his dick, but your view is blocked by the towel) - only makes you yearn for him more.

Chris is a mature adult, so he decides to brush off the issue as best he can. He promised to hang out with you like a good father does, so he asks if you’d like to have a movie night. Of course you agree.

He feels so guilty for the events that unfolded that morning that he lets you choose any movie you want. You choose The Notebook since there’s no way your dad is ever going to watch it with you otherwise.

That night, when you sit down in front of the TV, you huddle close together on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you. You’re halfway in your dad’s lap and he has one arm around you while the other holds the popcorn bowl.

When the famous sex scene comes on, you don’t fast forward or talk through it to ease the tension, neither of you awkwardly excuse yourself from the room. You only take your eyes off the screen to look at each other.

Your dad can see right through you. He knows what you want, and he wants it too – he doesn’t even have to tell you that because you can feel his cock hardening against your thigh.

“This movie’s better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“It’s not over yet. I won’t spoil the ending, but it’s really good.”

“I think we’ve both already seen our favorite part, haven’t we?”

“I do really like that part, yeah,” you say much quieter. “I think it’s… romantic…”

“And?”

“Hot. It’s hot. I’ve always wanted something like that but my ex-boyfriend couldn’t carry me upstairs like that.” You half-laugh, but it’s true – your ex sucked at sex.

“I can carry you.”

“Like that…?”

“Only if you want it to be like that.”

“I, um, I, well-”

Chris grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. “This is about you, sweetheart. If you don’t want to, then we can pretend this conversation never happened, but-”

You cut him off with a kiss and he takes it in stride. He’s Ryan Gosling and you’re Rachel McAdams. You’re not covered in rainwater like they are on screen but you are wet – embarrassingly so. But all of your worries fade into the background when Dad picks you up and carries you upstairs, only breaking the kiss when he lays you down on his bed. Your dad’s lips are pillowy soft against yours despite how passionate the makeout session becomes. If kissing him can make you feel this aroused, you’ll surely be done for the moment he gets his mouth between your thighs.

When your palm meets Chris’ clothed cock you can feel him straining against his pants. You set it free of its confines, slowly pulling his pants down to his ankles, keeping your eyes locked on his. When your hands stroke his meaty thighs, inching their way up, he runs his hand through your hair.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod despite your nerves surrounding your skill level. While you gawk at the sight of your dad’s fat cock, it dawns on you that in a way you’ve already been acquainted with this part of him, considering the fact that he used this to make you. How the hell did mom fit this inside her? you think, but don’t say aloud. You want your dad’s mind to be completely focused on you. It is.

You spit on your palm as gracefully as one can and then start stroking his length languidly.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, and as a thank you for his compliment, you like a stripe from the base to the tip.

A low moan rumbles from Chris’ chest when you take his cock into your mouth – you end up getting about halfway down before you choke. Chris snaps into dad mode and hoists you up, so you’re in his lap. His arousal is overpowered only by his paternal instinct to care for his favorite daughter.

“Dad, why’d you stop me?” Your eyes are already wet from when you choked but it still looks like you’re close to tears. “Was it not good enough?”

“No, baby girl, you were doing great until you started choking. Daddy can’t have you getting hurt.”

A frown stays plastered on your face until Chris says, “And, I think it’s my turn to make you feel good. Can’t wait to taste you any longer.”

He swiftly flips you onto your back then sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. When he pulls your legs towards him you gasp. His impatience makes him rough. He’s quick to remove your pajama pants along with your panties but he stops when he sees your slit, glistening with arousal.

He marvels at the sight, running his fingers along your folds. “This all for me?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical.

“Uh-huh. All for you, daddy.” His touch makes your skin tingle from head to toe. You shiver, though the room is heating up.

Chris dives in, shoving his face in between your legs, and running on instinct, your hands fly down to his head, grasping at his hair. You can’t help but pull a little. He growls in response.

You moan so loudly that you’d normally be embarrassed, but you can’t focus on anything except the movements of your dad’s tongue across your clit.

“Taste so good, baby,” he mumbles into your core.

Your legs begin to tremble, thighs threatening to clamp around his head. Chris has to hold them open so he doesn’t suffocate. You don’t have to tell him you’re close – he knows.

“I’ll let you cum once you tell me that this pretty pussy is mine.”

“’S all yours, daddy,” you cry. “I’m yours.”

“Damn right you’re mine,” he says just before you cum, coating his face with your wetness. He doesn’t pull away until you force him to stop, until you’re overstimulated and sobbing.

You pull him in for a kiss, but first you say, “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend couldn’t make you cum like that?”

“No, he never did.”

“Needed your dad to help you this whole time, huh?”

“Yeah, I need you inside me, daddy,” you say. Chris already has the same idea. His fist is around his thick cock, though he doesn’t need help getting hard. In fact, you watch a bead of precum drip from his tip. He pumps himself a few times before he prods at your entrance, attempting to fuck you. He watches as your face scrunches up in discomfort.

He pulls back. “Thought you said you wanted me, sweet girl?”

“I do, I do,” you insist.

“Just too tight for me, then, huh? Got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Gotta get you ready first.” Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside you, curling them upward to meet your g-spot. He strokes that spongy spot while he stretches you out and you begin to clench around his fingers.

“Ah-ah,” he says, pulling them out – much to your dismay. “You’re not gonna cum yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

You grip the sheets while he fills you in one thrust – you’re still tight, but your wetness makes the job easier. The stretch still stings at first, but neither of you can stand to wait any longer. He doesn’t give you a minute to adjust – he grips your legs and brings them to his chest so he can fuck you as deep as possible.

You’re practically screaming already, feeling a familiar sensation in your abdomen. “Gonna cum already? Never seen such a sensitive girl.”

You nod frantically.

“Cum whenever you want, baby, but daddy’s not gonna stop until he decides you’re done.”

You couldn’t stop your release if you wanted to. You soak his abdomen in bursts while he continues to pound in and out of you.

He pushes your thighs to your chest and it makes you scream. Continuing at a merciless pace, he taunts you, “Screaming so loud the neighbors can probably hear you, baby. What would they think if they knew you were moaning like that ‘cause your dad is fucking you so good?”

He feels your pussy ripple around him and he knows the answer. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod dumbly. You can’t bring yourself to care about what your neighbors would think while you’re getting the best dick of your life.

“What a dirty girl,” he tuts at you. “Didn’t think I raised a slut.”

“’M not a slut,” you protest.

“Really?” When you nod, he grabs your chin and spits in your mouth. Your pussy clenches when you swallow. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You don’t protest being called a slut anymore because you can’t. Your obscene moans are the only thing that leave your mouth – sometimes the word ‘daddy’ comes with them.

“I’ve fucked my little girl stupid already,” he says. “Can’t even keep yourself quiet. Guess I’ve gotta help you.”

Chris can’t stop himself – he’s addicted to the feeling of your cunt gripping him. So, to shut you up, he changes position. When he momentarily pulls out so that he can flip you onto your stomach, you whine, feeling empty and needy.

“Need daddy to fill you, huh? Couldn’t take my cock earlier and now you cry when I take it out for a second.”

It’s pathetic how much you like it, but he can’t see your reddening cheeks when your face is pressed into the mattress like this. You scream into the pillow, but the sounds of his balls hitting your clit with every thrust and his hand smacking your ass so hard it leaves a mark, is just as likely to get you caught. With the way his cock is stretching you out, you’ll surely be sore tomorrow, but the thought barely crosses your mind because it’s so deep inside you that the head is brushing up against your cervix.

Your dad is more talkative during sex than he usually is outside of the bedroom. It’s like a new man has taken over his body, a man who’s being held captive by your cunt.

“You feel so good. Shoulda known you’d fit so perfectly around my cock since I’m the one who made you.” His crude words have you soaking his already wet bed sheets. He bites his knuckles to muffle his own groans, but his other hand remains on your hip, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave marks.

Knowing that he’s close to cumming, he lifts you up so that your back is pressed to his chest while he’s still on his knees behind you. He wraps his bicep around your neck in an effort to make sure you stay quiet. You feel light-headed when he constricts your airways, but you trust him to keep you safe.

Maybe you seem panicked – maybe you are, maybe your dad knows you better than you know yourself – your legs are surely trembling but that could be your rapidly approaching orgasm. Regardless, your dad worries, so he reassures you, “Hey, pretty girl.” His breath tickles the shell of your ear. “Daddy’s got you, not gonna let you get hurt.”

Still, he fucks you so hard you think you might pass out. You’re going limp in his arms, basically a rag doll, but like Chris said, he chooses when you stop – he’s going to make sure he gets to cum.

When your release washes over you for the third time that night it feels like a surge of electricity in your abdomen sending the current though your body rather than a smooth wave of pleasure. Your orgasm drags Chris headlong into his own, and he’s barely able to pull out fast enough to cum on you, rather than in you.

Once the realization hits him in the aftermath - while you’re curled up on his chest - he asks, “Are you on the pill… or anything?”

“Mhm, why?” You mumble.

He dips a finger into you and waves it in front of your face, showing you that he overestimated his ability to pull out.

“Did you cum inside me?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s what makes it hotter.”

“So, if I did that next time, you’d like it?”

“I’d love it… wait- we forgot to finish the movie!”

“Do we have to?”

“C’mon I promise you’ll like the ending. It’s super romantic.”

“Is this not romantic enough for you?”

“It’ll be more romantic if you snuggle up on the couch with me.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you.”

"I love you too, dad."

#chris redfield #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader

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darlingsblackbook · 2 years ago

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Kamisato Ayato x Reader

Summary : A choice made by your parents without your knowledge, ended up uniting the two of you in an arranged marriage.

Wordcount : 2500

Warnings : Panic attack, arranged marriage, bad relationship with parents and angst? I have not reached Ayato's quest yet, so this might be ooc. Let me know if it is, please :')

A/N : I used to love writing but eventually stopped because it started feeling like a chore instead of a hobby, but now I'm back >:) I have never written for Genshin Impact, so this was new for me! Also, english is not my first language, so if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know :)

Gravel crunched underneath your feet as you silently followed your, now, husband to your new home. The whites of the heavy dress, adorned by your body, unfortunately being dirtied as it dragged behind you on the ground. You could not bring yourself to care at this moment, not when there were many things running through your mind to worry about.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you truly feared it would fall out at any moment now. Raising your hands up, you clearly see the tremors in your hands. Every step you took, filled you with more and more fear, leaving you gasping for air. And as you saw the guards and the lights of the estate, from a distance, you could no longer control the expression on your face. You could already feel the tears trying to force their way out.

You didn't want to take any step further, you truly wanted to stop right there and then. You didn't want to enter the estate, it was not your home, filled with strangers. That included your husband, you didn't know him, you knew of him and the fact he was feared by many, but that's it. You had never talked to him before, the first and last words you had uttered to him until now were your wedding vows.

What a joke

Your parents just gave you away as if you meant nothing. Just an object to exchange for more power and status. The dress, your makeup, jewelry and your hair styled to perfection felt like nothing more but a big, red bow on a present.

You always knew, it was clear from the conversations you were always left out of, the trips where you were left behind, the love and affection you were deprived of, you were the black sheep amongst your siblings.

You never understood it, you never asked them for anything, always did everything they wanted, always did your best to excel in all subjects and yet they could not find it in them to give you - even the tiniest - bit of praise.

It's not fair.

How could they just leave you with a stranger, just like that, without any care? How could they decide who you would spend the rest of your life with, without the slightest care of your own wants and dreams? Did they not care to think about your own feelings, how utterly terrified you would be? To leave the only place you've ever seen, to go live with a place filled with strangers, even share a room with one-

I mean, come on, even if you were the least favored one, you must have at least meant something to them, right?

You could no longer hold your tears back, they softly fell, leaving a shiny trail behind. You slowed down a bit, fearing Ayato might hear you, fearing how he might react. He was a complete stranger to you, you had only heard rumors about the commissioner, you had no idea what to expect from him.

Your anxiety spiked, all kinds of scenarios running through your mind. There were just too many things you didn't know, the images fabricated by your mind filling up the blank spaces.

"Good evening, commissioner." You were snapped out of your haze by the voices of the guards. You had not even realized you reached the estate. You hurriedly wiped any traces of tears on your face but, judging by the looks on the guards' faces it had no use.

They did their best to give you an assuring smile, "Welcome to the estate, my lady.", they bowed.

You managed a small smile, thanking them for the kind gesture. You wiped away any traces of the emotions raging inside of you. There were maids everywhere in the estate, you could not risk being seen like this, it would leave a bad impression.

You couldn't help but look around in awe, the Kamisato estate truly was beautiful and much bigger than your former home.

You were so distracted, your footsteps slowed down even more, you hadn't noticed Ayato had stopped in front of a door. Nor had you noticed the softness in his eyes as he gazed at your form, the corners of his lips quirked up in the tiniest smile. "Y/n."

"Huh?" You turned your head so quickly, you were pretty sure you had a whiplash, not that you could help it. It was the first time he spoke since leaving the event. You immediately straightened up, fixing your posture and raised your head as an attempt to look confident. "Yes, commissioner?"

A certain glint appeared in his eyes at the title, if you didn't know any better you would have said it was amusement. He did not comment on it, simply sliding the door open and stepping inside the room.

You took a deep breath and followed him inside. It was a simple room, a huge bed, a closet and a vanity. On the left side of the room you could see another door, probably leading to a bathroom.

Was this his room? The room you were supposed to share with him? The bed you were expected to sleep in....with him? Your cheeks turned a bright red just at the thought.

"Is the room to your liking?" Ayato asked, after seeing you examine the room. You looked at him and silently nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, if there's anything you're not satisfied with or would like to change feel free to let me know."

"Thank you", you quietly responded. You fiddled with your finger and looked around the room to keep you busy as an awkward silence filled the room.

Until... a rustling sound was heard, followed by the sound of something soft hitting the floor. Your gaze automatically drifted in the direction of the sound, only for you to immediately slap the palms of your hands on your eyes.

"I'm sorry! I did not mean to look!" You gasped, the feeling of embarrassment causing your cheeks to turn a bright red.

You heard a chuckle, followed by footsteps and then the warmth radiating from a body - Ayato was standing right in front of you.

Warm hands gently curled around your wrist, softly pulling your hands away from your face. "Don't be embarrassed, you may look as much as you desire to."

"Wha…you…I-", speechless, you were truly speechless. What were you even supposed to respond with? Was he trying to cause you a heart attack?!

"Or do my looks perhaps not satisfy you enough?" Ayato said with a raised eyebrow.

Kill me now

You frantically shook your head, just giving up on even attempting to speak. You couldn't look him in the eye, neither could you look down as his chest was right in your face, you just settled to look at the closed bathroom door behind Ayato. That's until he raised his hand and put a finger under your chin to raise your head up. "Oh? My looks don't satisfy you?"

"N-no that's not it! You look….fine…commissioner" You managed to say.

"Ayato." He said, after a moment of silence. An intense look in his eyes.

You blinked at him, "Hmm?"

"You may call me Ayato." He clarified, "We are husband and wife now after all. It would be…unusual..for you to call me by such a title."

"Oh.." you again averted your eyes to the door behind him, "I..apologize."

"There is no apology needed." Ayato cleared up and suddenly his smirk was back on his face. "Say, why won't you get ready for bed? You must be tired."

"O-oh, uhmm..o-okay" you quietly answered. Ayato finally lowered your hands and let go of only one, continuing to hold onto the other. You looked at him in confusion before a yelp escaped you as you were suddenly spun around. Your clothed back gently landed against his bare chest, his arm around your waist, holding you close.

You couldn't help the shudder that ran through your body or the soft gasp that escaped you at the feeling of his warm breath against your sensitive neck. Looking in front of you, you saw that he had turned you in the direction of a full body mirror. "L-lord…Ayato…"

The hand that was not holding onto you raised up and gently took out the hairpiece holding your hair up. The strands of hair gently fell down and framed your face perfectly. The same hand gently stroked your hair, feeling the softness and the faint scent of flowers of your shampoo wafting to his nose.

You looked up at him through the mirror, surprised at his gentleness. You had heard all kinds of things about Ayato, hushed stories that were passed from one maid to the other and had reached your ears. You were still scared, your shaky hands the proof of said feeling and reminder of how close you were to having a panic attack. Still, seeing the way he had treated you until now managed to somehow lessen the fear.

There was still one thing you were panicking about…

Ayato's eyes met yours in the mirror, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before he took a step back and completely let go of you. Your eyes stayed locked on each other. "Do you need my assistance in preparing for bed?"

Your eyes widened at his offer and you frantically shook your head. "N-no! I mean, I'll be fine."

"Very well," Ayato said, "then I shall continue to get ready as well."

You took a deep breath to slow your hammering heart, you would have to undress yourself. You raised your shaky hands to grab onto the outer layer of your wedding kimono. You turned your head to look in the mirror, only to be met with Ayato bare back as he himself continued to change into his sleeping clothes. You could faintly see the small scars scattered on the expanse of his back and the strong muscles as he moved.

You quickly turned your head away and hurriedly started to change into your nightwear, rushing to get clothed while his back was still turned to you as you did not feel comfortable enough yet to bare your body to him. He was still a stranger after all.

Even though it went against the advice given to you by your personal maids.

As soon as you pulled your nightgown down, you looked into the mirror again, seeing Ayato turning around right on time. His eyes briefly wandered across your form before he met your gaze.

Ayato started walking towards you until he was right behind you, his eyes still on yours. He raised his hands up and gently pulled all of your hair behind one shoulder. You held your breath when you saw his hand lowering to the back of your neck, until you felt him unlock the necklace around your neck.

His expression was unreadable and the look in his eyes so intense, you couldn't help but break eye contact. Your chest raised up and down at a fast pace, resembling the pace of your heartbeat.

"Why don't you get in bed?" He asked, breaking the tense silence. He took a step back and walked towards the vanity to store the necklace away.

You silently walked past him, to your preferred side of the bed and shyly sat down. This was the part of the night that could not leave your mind and had you scared the most.

Were you just going to sleep or did he expect a certain thing from you?

You harshly gulped, clasping your hands together as you felt the bed dip behind you. The same overwhelming fear threatens to take over again. You bit your lip, a nervous habit of yours, to distract yourself.

A warm hand landing on your left shoulder had your whole body stiffening up, you barely managed to hold yourself back from flinching. Ayato softly pulled your shoulder back in his direction, "Turn around, y/n."

You did as he said, turning your body in his direction but your head lowered as if the design on the sheet was the most interesting thing ever. Again, you could escape his gaze, he took your chin between two fingers to meet your eyes.

Did he….want-, your train of thought was cut off as you saw him leaning in. You softly gasped when his nose softly bumped against yours, his warm breath softly hitting your face and when he leaned even closer you tightly closed your eyes.

One, two, three seconds passed and then you felt it. His surprisingly soft lips placed an equally soft kiss on your forehead. Your eyes snapped open in bewilderment, that was the last thing you expected.

One, two and after three seconds, Ayato pulled away not too far though. Again he held you so close your nose almost touched his, "I do not intend to go anywhere you're not ready for yet. I understand how troubling so much change in so little time must be and the difficulty of being from everything that's familiar to you…. It may not feel like it yet but this is your home as much as it is mine and I want it to feel like such to. I do not wish for you to feel fear or unwelcomed in your own home, so if anything or anyone dares to trouble you, let me know and it will be dealt with. Do you understand?"

You could only offer a nod. A soft sigh escaped Ayato's lips before he pulled away from you. He blew out the candles on the nightstand at his side and silently layed down with his back turned to you and pulled the blanket over his form. You followed his actions and shyly rested your head on the pillow next to his, you had turned your back to him as well.

The tremors in your hands had disappeared. The pounding beat of your heart slowed to a steady rhythm and your breath evened out. The panic and fear in your body was pushed to the background as a warmth blossomed in your chest.

Still, as your lower lip trembled, you could not help it as tears welled up and softly fell. This time, they were not caused by your parents' mistreatment and neglect, neither by the aching loneliness or absolute fear and hopelessness of your future.

Instead, it was Ayato's thoughtfulness, it was the way Ayato clearly had made you his priority (despite you technically being as stranger to him too), he respected you and your feelings - just the fact you had noticed your inner turmoil and had not ignored it and done whatever he wanted ( like everyone else in your life ) was enough to reduce you to tears.

While you held your hand tightly clasped on your lips, keeping any sounds of escaping you, to avoid disturbing Ayato's sleep….

Said man was wide awake, his heart strangely aching at the sound of the soft sobs you could not hold back…

#ayato x fem!reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #ayato angst #ayato fluff #ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

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m1d-45 · 2 years ago

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spoken from the stars III

summary: voicelines characters would have in sagau! ft. zhongli, ayato, heizou, and two bonuses :)

word count: ~720

-> warnings: spoilers for liyue archon quest, minor spoilers for ayato and chongyun lore

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< kazuha, wanderer || < masterlist > || lyney, lynette, freminet >

zhongli

about us: the traveller

the traveller is a brave and brilliant soul, and i wish them the best of luck on their journey. though, now that i think about it… i’m not certain they’d ever need my blessing.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

even the strongest stone cannot withstand erosion forever. the winds of time and sands of memories past will grate at its surface, scraping away the smallest amount with every breath. there are, of course, methods to restore even the harshest of removals, but… *sigh* no mortal can undo time.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

everything that can be seen in liyue could not have been made without your blessing. i have shaped the harbor, created the coin around which teyvat operates, and yet none of it could ever have been done without you. i dedicate myself and my creations to you and your glory, and hope that liyue is to your liking. …i hope that i am as well.

ayato

about us: the traveller

the traveller has been a large and key part of overturning the vision hunt decree, and has assisted the nations of teyvat greatly. ive been meaning to invite them back for a game of chess, but they always seem rather busy… it can’t be helped, i suppose.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

everything around us, from the evergreens to the fallen sakura blooms, was all planted by design. year after year, they sprout, bloom, and fall, always returning back to the posts they’d abandoned months before… perhaps that is true loyalty.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

when i first received my vision, i had taken it as a sign that it was time to find my own way. i had assumed i was to walk the path of commissioner alone, that it would be my lone light. i… was wrong. you were there. …for this and everything else, i pledge both my allegiance and the allegiance of the yashiro commission as well. should you need anything, trust that the entirety of my resources are at your disposal. it is the least i could offer.

heizou

about us: the traveller

ah, the traveller… an interesting character, with plenty of stories to tell. the hero of three of teyvat’s— oh, four? …well well, seems like they’ve been getting busy. with all the work they’re doing, i might be out of a job soon, haha.

about us: the creator

friendship lv. 4

here in teyvat, it’s impossible to truly measure the extent of a criminal’s transgressions, and hence impossible to ever be able to tell if a punishment was fit or not. a thief might have brought a family to financial ruin, and a murderer often scars more than just the victim. as a detective, it’s my job to account for strictly quantifiable crimes, but… it doesn’t matter. in the end, even the sneakiest of thieves will meet their maker.

about you: worship

friendship lv. 6

my success is often attributed to my intuition — typically by new officers who assume i can solve any case by simply looking at it — but this conclusion is entirely unfounded. every gift i have isn’t innate, it’s a blessing; one that i’m immensely lucky to have. what i’m saying is that i would never have gotten this far without you, and that i swear to repay this debt however is necessary. doushin shikanoin, at your service.

xingqiu

about the creator: penmanship

sometimes i wonder how the universe came to be. obviously such an event was powered by the strength of the divine, but… was an artifact used to channel this energy? if so, would it be more equivalent to a vision, or, say, a pen? do you think such a device could be adapted to work with vision users? wh— hey, leave my handwriting out of this! it’s a serious question

chongyun

about the creator: energy

do you think that if the creator were to visit a haunted location, that the evil spirits would be driven away? or would they be exorcised? obviously, they tend to run away when faced with my yang energy, but what would demons do when faced with the divine? hm…

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oddrobyn · 2 months ago

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hi friend!! I've been losing it over your li and pen bestie art for the past few minutes I love them 🥺🥺🥺 do you mind telling us more about their dynamics? also I love dice and the commissioners!! would also love to know more about dice and wei <3333

OH MY GAAAHHHH IVE WAITED YEARS FOR THIS QUESTIONNNN

(Rubbing my little hands together) MEGA SPOILERS BELOW BTW IN CASE ANYONE HASNT FINISHED THE GAME

For quick context to anyone who might not know , Li is my builder Oc (first image) and Dice is my non builder NPC type oc who I like to imagine as a potential romancable character when someone else is playing as builder. But in my au where Li and Dice are in the same universe Dice is Li's older sister.

Starting with Li!!

Li and Pen has this sort of crazy friendship when you consider they are selectively mute and the way their personalities are pretty different. Pen is a loud and proud extrovert who can fill a room with his very presence when Li is really mousy and tends to keep to themselves all the while a really affectionate friend. This has given them a sort of platonic lovey-friendship where they're best friends who can say I love you and understand how deeply connected they are as bestie which makes Pen's betrayal /leaving for incarceration a hell of a lot more painful.

Li does have BPD and because Pen was their favorite person this was REALLY rough and there was a LOT of coping they had to deal with because losing the person their whole world revolved around totally destroyed what they had and they basically had to start from scratch socially. Sure they had other friends like Unsuur and Nia and Qi-- but what they had with Pen was so unique and so special that it was really difficult for them to let go despite knowing he's really frowned upon on Sandrock. It's really difficult for them to just "get with the program" and let go of him as easily as the game implies you do when he leaves and often times they get stuck in awkward spots where they have to talk to some of the people he hurt knowing how awkward it is for everyone when the attachment to their friend who turned out to be pretty evil still has a tight hold on them.

I like to think that they try to send letters to Pen secretly once in a while and hasn't gotten a response back for better or worse, but a given explanation is actually that Pen had been throwing them away as soon as he got them because he was scared he would open it and find that Li wanted to officially break off the friendship.

I think before I've compared them to the story of the Scorpion and the Frog, but their friendship is maybe a little more parasitic than that. Pen definitely had ulterior motives in picking to befriend the person who obviously struggled socially and would do anything to keep a friend around, but when they both started having something real the line between something fake and something so painfully real gets blurred and ultimately both of them are unable to let go of each other because of how close they were. They are truly doomed by the narrative I think oughh

AS FOR DICE !!!

I don't believe I've ever done a real deep dive explanation since I was still working out some of the details but I pretty much have something now.

She actually used to do average odd jobs around Highwind to save up money to put towards to her music career that was inspired by old world music she discovered and fell in love with (hahahahaha. Really funny to think stuff like Hannah Monatana and MarinaAndTheDiamonds would be considered old world in their universe) which led to her deciding she wanted to be a music star.

Things didn't go to plan however and although some of the story is pretty lost in the mud due to her shame and refusal to open up about it, her career failed as no one listened to the genre or didn't find it interesting enough. The embarrassment of being unable to achieve the dream she worked all her teen years towards made her incredibly depressed and she actually disappeared for a couple of years with no warning until she one day resurfaced as the bounty hunter/bodyguard/whatever she is today.

She claims to owe a lot of her being able to get back up onto her feet to Yan and Pen, who found her alone in the eufala after getting lost and set her up with a job as "Yan's Personal Bodyguard" as silly as it sounds. But it made him look cool and important, and gave her the money she needed to get back up on her feet so she took it.

She started traveling around the free cities to pick up more bounty jobs now that she had found another purpose in life (though some are pretty sure she's just take out a lot of pent up feelings on it). Even though she had become kind of a drifter all throughout the free cities, at some point, she and Yan started dating and it was about as insufferable of an experience as you'd imagine. The public sweet talk, the constant hand holding, the way that it's so obvious Yan is more interested in her than she Is in him... awful. Owen says his best paid night but worst social experiences come from their dates at the Blue Moon.

Of course, once Yan gets shipped off Dice reveals that she's relieved about his arrest because it was starting to get on her nerves and that she had been struggling to figure out a way to break up with him without a whole spectacle happening.

But just as soon as he's gone, Wei comes to town and she INSTANTLY falls for how much kinder he is. When you spend your whole life around questionable characters you sort of start to just accept that maybe everyone is only thinking of themselves; but Wei was different.

For once, Dice was the one chasing a love interest rather than being the one who was pursued, and as confusing as it might have been at first, eventually they both start connecting and their kind of opposite personalities start to find ways to compliment each other. Wei stops being suspicious that Dice might be acting on his brother's behalf and Dice starts to disappear from sandrock less often in order to spend more time with him.

Owen dreads Friday night dates a whole lot less now lol...

#robyn rambles #my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas oc

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caesariawritesstuff · 7 months ago

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Cat & Mouse - Chapter 1

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

It had been three years since you’d seen him. Three years since Batman had been killed, his identity as Bruce Wayne outed to the entire world. Blown to smithereens inside Wayne Manor, which remained a pile of ash and rubble where it once stood. No one in Gotham had bothered to clean it up – you don’t think anyone cared enough to bother. Still, there were rumors around Gotham of “the Ghost”, another vigilante stopping crime on the shadowy streets. Though the rumors were often theorized and speculated on – some thought the shadowy bat people saw was still an effect on Scarecrow’s fear toxin. Others thought it was the ghost of Batman himself. Either way, the Dark Knights ever faithful sidekick, Robin, still did his best to carry on the caped crusaders mission, but despite his best efforts, the city was still rampant with injustice and crime. It seemed as though the most powerful of villains only continued their efforts to secure a hold on the criminal underworld.

One, however, had been gone for those three years: Edward Nigma, better known as the Riddler. Through the grapevine, you knew he’d been in Arkham Asylum. Despite the usual and numerous escapes from other prisoners, which seemed never ending, he hadn’t been one to escape. There were rumors, of course, as to why: that he was too broken and defeated by the loss of Batman to care. That he’d become catatonic and refused treatment. The truth is that no one was certain what had become of the enigmatic, if not irritatingly charming, master of riddles, other than the doctors who worked there, though they remained tight-lipped about the condition of their current patients. You’d heard he’d been released on parole, but where he’d gone or what he was up to, no one knew. Sometimes it felt like everyone was waiting for the pin to drop, wondering when his next death trap or riddle would spring up to terrorize Gotham’s citizens. Who in the hell would approve his parole, you truly had no idea.

You jumped when Commissioner Aaron Cash called your name from his office. You’d grown stiff from leaning over your desk, pouring over files and reports, the only thing you’d eaten was half a donut and three cups of coffee. Cliché, you knew, but you didn’t mind. Hunger churned in your stomach, and your eyes threatened to close, but by the tone of the commissioner’s voice, you knew something was up. The sound made your stomach drop and dread pool in your belly. You stood from your desk and hurried into the commissioner ’s office. Aaron Cash had held the position ever since James Gordon became mayor. But as soon as you walked in, you could tell by the look in his eyes that something was very, very wrong.

“Commissioner?” you asked.

“Detective,” he said, giving you a courteous nod. There were dark circles under his eyes, exhaustion evident in his posture. Something had happened.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, walking further into his office.

“No, everything is not okay. Look, detective – I don’t know how else to put this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Edward Nigma was released from Arkham on parole three weeks ago. Against Mayor Gordon’s wishes, City Council came to an agreement: his skills are far too valuable to go to waste, so they cut him a deal.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“The goddamn Riddler is coming here to work for our Cyber Crime Division again.”

There it was. The inevitable pin that’d been waiting to drop. It felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs, cutting off all the oxygen.

“Are you serious?” you asked, unable to stop yourself. You knew it better than to question your superiors, but this…this was outrageous.

“Look detective, I don’t like it either. But you know how these damn bureaucrats can be. I don’t have any other choice but to smile and nod and allow that maniac back in here. I’ve got ten doctors who signed off on his parole, approving his “reformation”. A bunch of bullshit if you ask me.” Cash tossed a stack of papers your way.

When you looked through them, you realized he was right. Not one, not two, but ten doctors at Arkham had approved his released, claiming the last three years of therapy, medication, and healthy coping had deemed him suitable for a return to society. You almost gagged at the thought.

You’d been a GCPD over for several years now and seen far too much for your young eyes. Dead bodies in the streets. Disfigured victims of psychopaths. Battered men and women, children orphaned because of impulsive street thugs. But the idea of a psychotic, egomaniacal criminal coming to work for the GCPD because his skillset was valuable? You couldn’t even fathom the idea.

As always, there was never a dull moment as an officer in this damned city – which you were beginning to believe was cursed – considering the number of criminals who came in and out with each passing day. Sometimes you barely had any time to sleep; but perhaps the trouble had been worth it, as you’d made your way up the ranks from rookie to detective in only a few short years. At least, you used to think it was worth it, until the idea of working alongside a known criminal had just been thrown in your face like hot acid.

“There’s something else you aren’t going to like,” Cash said, getting your attention again. “And don’t shoot me for this, you know I don’t have any choice, but since you’re our newest detective…we’re assigning you to be his handler.”

“Me?” you asked, breathless. It was true – you’d been vying for bigger cases. More than just petty street crimes. You wanted more; bigger, better crimes to investigate. Sometimes you felt like the only reason you’d been promoted was because the GCPD was running out of bodies to keep on the payroll.

Cash nodded. “Sorry, detective, I’m briefing you now before anyone else because I wanted to you be prepared.”

“I understand,” you replied, keeping your voice as calm and collected as possible. But inside, your stomach was in knots, your chest heavy. “When is he coming?”

“Should be here in a few hours. Now, I’m gonna go brief everyone else.”

You nodded and left the commissioner’s office. You ran a hand through your hair, which you had tied back in a ponytail. Okay, you could do this – of course you could. This was what you signed up for. To protect the people of Gotham. What better way to protect them than having your eyes on one of its most twisted citizens of all time?

You were ready to walk back to your desk, but first, you took a swift right towards the water cooler to get something to drink, in hopes of clearing the angry heat from your cheeks. You couldn’t exactly tell if being given the position of “Riddler’s Handler” was a goddamn honor or insult.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, getting your attention. You turned back to find Archer Crux coming out of his office.

He was a man five years older than you and the current head of the Cyber Crime Division. His ice-blue eyes, which were hidden behind silver glasses, and short blonde hair was striking against his pale skin and strong jaw, and when he smiled, a little part of you melted inside.

Okay, you admitted it: you had a little crush on Archer. You’d never tell him that, though. Your own insecurities about dating ruled you far too much.

“Hi,” you said, turning away and bringing the little plastic cup to your lips.

“You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, because you weren’t ready to spill the truth just yet. After all, you’d leave that honor to the commissioner himself. You had a lot of respect for Aaron Cash. Everyone did. But after leaving you in this position, well…you’d let him take the brunt of the outrage from the rest of the force.

As if he read your mind, Cash walked out and called for everyone’s attention. And of course, as expected, the outrage everyone felt for hearing what was to come was not pleasant. Officers cried out in protest, some even threatened to quit or go on strike. Others were ready to walk out within an hour. You watched from the sidelines, patiently waiting for the flames to die down, and once it had, you knew an ember still flickered, threatening to spark a wildfire.

“What is Cash thinking?” Archer asked. “And seriously, I’m going to have to be that nutjob’s superior? Unbelievable.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” you mumble, though you’re grateful Archer feels the same way.

When the storm calms, you take the opportunity to head back to your desk and pour over the files. You’d been tracking a series of murders spread throughout Gotham. Bodies left with their throats slashed, all men, each left in humiliating positions. The only thing you knew that connected them was the killer’s signature: an X carved into their foreheads, right between the eyes. Coincidentally, now that you thought about, the murders started three weeks ago – exactly when the Riddler got out. You had half a mind to pin the murders on him, but it didn’t seem him like his MO. The lack of clues and death traps left him out of the suspect pool.

A throbbing headache pounded between your eyes and you rubbed your temples. Constantly you found your eyes straying to the door, waiting for the moment he would walk through it in all his egotistical, self-righteous glory. The clock on your desk ticked by, each moment causing anxiety to swirl deeper and deeper within you. And when you finally began to think maybe, just maybe, City Council had changed their mind and decided against allowing Riddler back into the GCPD, he appeared.

The familiar shuffle of feet was what first got your attention, as well as everyone else. Three officers escorted him into the room, one arm on each of his, keeping him secure. He was not in handcuffs, but you wondered what security measures the others had taken against him. For a moment, you could hardly believe it. You had to blink to make sure you weren’t seeing things, but sure enough, there he stood.

He’d changed. That was the first thing you noticed.

The last time you’d seen him was during Scarecrow’s attempt to kill Batman with the fear toxin. Back when the other villains ran rampant, when you insisted to stay behind and help in any way you could, though you hadn’t done much but apprehend a few thugs from Two-Face’s gang. Back then, the Riddler was skinny, gaunt, a shell of himself. Pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in several days. Practically emaciated, like he barely ate. Greasy, stained with oil and other mechanical fluids. The night Batman put him in the cell, it seemed as though he couldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop rambling about his defeat. How Batman had cheated during his latest trap.

The man standing in the GCPD was not that same man.

Edward Nigma had clearly tried to fix himself. He’d gained weight, gotten a haircut, showered. The gauntness he once held was gone, replaced by a healthiness to his skin, which practically made him look ten years younger. He looked as he did once before, when he worked for the GCPD back in the day. You know, before he became a criminal.

You admit you were taken aback by his appearance. It was interesting how much someone’s appearance could change by the slightest changes in diet, exercise, and hygiene. But the worst part of all is that you were probably taken aback a bit too much. He was handsome, unnervingly so, and you were pretty sure that he knew it, too. His ego wouldn’t let him accept anything less, so you’d been surprised when he’d let himself go three years ago.

Now, you wondered what had changed.

Was it true? Had the doctors at Arkham truly found a way to cure him of his obsessions, had made his impulses manageable? You were admittedly curious, though you wouldn’t show it. He’d certainly ditched the Riddler uniform – no longer sporting his green outfit and Bowler hat, but now he wore a pair of khaki’s and a green sweater. So clearly, he had a thing for green.

The entire GCPD was silent. Everyone held their breath, even you. You were worried that someone would pull out their gun and end this right now. After all, Nigma was a criminal. But was he truly a reformed criminal? Did those who did such bad things get a second-chance, when they had a graveyard at their feet?

It was a question you pondered as the Riddler was brought in to speak with Cash, and the door shut with a heavy thud behind them.

It was true.

Edward Nigma, the Riddler, had reformed.

Once upon a time, he would’ve thought the idea ridiculous. He, the Riddler, reformed? How foolish, stupid, giving up his quest to destroy the Dark Knight – that was, at least, until the detective had offed himself in a fiery blaze. He’d seen it with his own two eyes on the news station, when Wayne Manor exploded in an inferno of orange and yellow flames, a combustion process ninety percent of the other Gothamites wouldn’t understand.

At first, he’d believed it to be a trick. Batman had only wanted to hide, to put his tail between his legs and when the chaos subsided, he’d emerge from the shadows once again.

But that time never came.

He remembered, after his return to Arkham, that he’d waited eagerly for some news of the Dark Knight’s return. Waited for the rumors, for the information to pass through guards during silent nights. Yet there was nothing.

And that was finally what broke him.

His one mission had been to best that bothersome bat. To prove himself intellectually superior. When that mission had been ripped right out from underneath him, he hadn’t known what to do. So, he’d regressed. His mental health worsened.

It’d taken almost a year for the doctors to get through to him, to pull him from his depression, from the nothingness that was his mind. Two more years after that to help him develop…healthier coping habits. There was a part of him that consistently wondered if, by reforming, he’d actually given up and failed. But there was another part of him, that he had to admit, had grown tired of the running. The fighting. The humiliation. A person can only take so much, and he’d hit his all-time low in the lonely moments of the silence inside Arkham. His doctors had finally convinced him that he’d let his obsession with the Dark Knight rule over him, and with that obsession gone, he could focus on himself again.

It took time. Lots and lots of time, therapy, and medication, but he’d made it through the storm and come out better than ever. After all, if a man of his intelligence and superiority couldn’t overcome the obstacles in his mind, than what kind of genius would he be? A genius like himself was capable of self-improvement. So that was exactly what he’d done: improved.

Aaron Cash had since taken up the mantle of Commissioner, that was one thing he’d already known when coming in here. He wasn’t a fool: he still employed an informant to keep him updated on the local turf wars, arms deals, and movements of Penguin, Two-Face, and Harley Quinn. After all these years he’d spent making a name for himself in the criminal underworld, he certainly couldn’t risk coming back into the fold unknown. In fact, it’d been a bit of a surprise when several Gotham City Council members approached him after he’d applied for parole; because, let’s face, he knew he eventually would – a man of his intellect was not meant to be cooped up behind bars.

Though, the city council had recognized his genius (of course, as they should, they would be fools not to), and approached him with a deal: if he accepted their agreements to live in a half-way home for convinced felons for the next three years, kept out of trouble with the law – even so much as a parking ticket – and accepted a role working at his old position for the GCPD’s Cyber Crime Division, they would grant his parole. Of course, his parole would last the rest of his life, unless by some miracle he could prove that he was a model citizen in the next ten years. Still, he had to admit, even for someone with such an intellect as himself questioned why city council would be so adamant to have him back at his old job. The only real conclusion he came to was simple: they needed him.

Isn’t that what he’d always wanted? To be needed, respected, admired? Perhaps, in another life, those were things he wished for. But now he was a different man, though those feelings still lingered, as ever, tickling the back of his brain like a parasite. He’d have to speak to his therapist about that, something he did twice a week.

But, he wasn’t bothered by the way Cash was looking at him, eyes filled with malice and hatred. Sure, Edward had put him and his blue-blooded brothers and sisters through hell and back more times than he could count (alright, that’s an expression. He could count it, every single instances, as simple as remembering to turn on a light switch or brush one’s teeth).

“Look Nigma,” Cash finally said. One hand was held at his hip, where his gun was holstered. Edward wasn’t blind to the way the man’s fingers twitched lower, as if unconsciously searching for the trigger. “I don’t give a damn if you’re out on parole or not, or if a hundred doctors said you’re ready to be back to in society. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. Hell, I kinda wanna shoot you myself. But, I’m not gonna do that. You want to know why?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Edward said.

“Because I’m gonna give you one chance. One. If these doctors at Arkham say you’ve been rehabilitated, then I’ll listen to them. I mean, it is true – you haven’t escape once. And look at you: you look better than the last time I saw you. So, one chance. But if you step one toe out of line, I’ll shoot you myself. Got it?”

Edward smiled and adjusted his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose. Of course, he wasn’t subtle about using his middle finger to do so.

“I understand perfectly, Officer Cash. Oh, forgive me, commissioner.” Edward may be agreeing not to step out of line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with his nemesis, now could it? A few barbs here and there, just to get under the man’s skin.

Besides, he was already a prisoner enough as is. A thick, heavy ankle monitor was tight against his left ankle. One of the conditions he’d been forced to agree to. Though, the fools at city council seemed to forget just how easy it would be for him to short-circuit the wires inside, do a little finagling, and fool their small-minded brains into thinking he was wearing the bracelet twenty-four-seven. And as much as he wanted – and God, he wanted to – just to prove how smart he was, he wouldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t healthy, he knew. Not anymore. His therapists had reminded him many times that he truly was a genius, he truly did have a superior intellect, and there was no reason to go around proving it to everyone. So, no. He would not give back in to his old desires, to his old ways. Self-improvement, remember?

Cash’s eyebrow twitched slightly; a muscle feathered in his jaw. But he finally dropped his hand back to his waist. He reached into a desk drawer and tossed a folder in front of Edward. “Your schedule and your badge. You’ll be working underneath Lieutenant Crux.”

Edward opened the folder and peeked inside. There was the usual paperwork, as one would expect, but he was surprised to find his badge was the same from almost eleven years ago – when he looked different, younger. He’d since practically regained that appearance, thanks to his therapists reminding him to eat, though age still crept into his features now. Perhaps they didn’t care enough to take a new photo of him, but that was unimportant to him. Except he couldn’t help but notice the last name bolded on the badge: NASHTON.

A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest, a rage threatening to burn. That name, that horrible last name, reminding him of his childhood. Of his father, who’d beat him into submission. He hadn’t been Edward Nashton in a very, very long time. No – he was Nigma now. EDWARD NIGMA.

He closed the folder and took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket, where a stress ball resided. He gave it several angry squeezes until his anger disappeared. Another coping mechanism his therapists had trained him to rely on. Cash continued to stare at him, some confusion etched into his expression, but he walked around the desk and opened the door before calling for someone to come inside.

Ah yes, another brute to escort him to the next room, as if he was incapable of getting there himself. Didn’t they know he had memorized every single room and hallway in this place?

Though, what he soon found was not a hulking brute – but a girl who stepped inside. Her eyes immediately flicked to him, lingering for perhaps a moment too long, before back to Cash.

She was wearing a typical GCPD uniform, and her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Cash turned back to him and introduced her. “She’ll be your handler here.”

Handler? Were they going to treat him like an animal? Perhaps one could argue that he was one, but that was beside the point.

Cash turned back to the woman. “Why don’t you show Mr. Nigma to his desk.”

She nodded and turned on her heels without a word, which Edward took as his cue to follow, because he was sure she wouldn’t speak to him unless it was necessary. As he expected, she led him through the GCPD until they came to a small office where the Cyber Crime Division resided. Even in all the years, they’d done little to upgrade their systems, and that was the first thing he noticed. Old, out of date computer monitors and desktops. He was sure to find that their software was a decade old, too, though he clenched his teeth to avoid making an arrogant quip.

Self-improvement, Edward. Self-improvement.

“You’ll be working with Lieutenant Crux,” the woman said, gesturing to the man who turned around in his seat to look at him across the office, eyes full of disdain. “And if you need me for anything, I’m over there.” She pointed to a desk across the GCPD.

Edward was quiet for a moment, but the words slipped out, as always. “How do you expect me to work with these archaic machines?”

The girl’s stoic face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“Look at these computers. How old are these processors? How much memory do they store? They look just like they did ten years ago.”

“I’m pretty sure they are from ten years ago,” she said.

“This is unacceptable,” Edward continued. “I insist you get new computers in here.”

“Yeah, that’s not really in the budget,” she said, crossing her arms. Her gaze turned towards Lieutenant Crux, and she shrugged, as if to say “he’s your problem now”. Then she turned on her heels and walked out the door.

Edward admitted that he felt a small sting of rejection and humiliation. Heat seared across his cheeks. He did not like people turning his back on him, making him feel like a fool. He reached into his pocket and found his stress ball again, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

Archer examined him with disinterest. As if he was a rat who’d crawled out of the gutter. But, the man squared his shoulders back and extended his hand. “Lieutenant Crux.”

Edward did not shake his hand.

Archer's arm lowered back to his side, and an awkward tension hung in the air. Archer cleared his throat before walking across the room. “This’ll be your desk,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

Edward’s eyes flickered to Archer’s desk. Clearly the term “make yourself at home” wasn’t shy to him. Family photos, perhaps a graduation photo, rested in the corner. At least the man was neat and organized, he’d give him that.

It felt strange, being back here. Being back in his old job. Things had changed. And through the tinted glass, he could just barely make out the shapes of the other officers whispering about him, huddled together, gossip already running rampant through the building. But, Edward was determined to turn things around, to prove everyone wrong, that he had reformed. Self-improvement. No more obsessions. No more Batman. No more reason to keep himself the brunt of every joke. He would prove everyone wrong in succeeding in his new life.

Edward turned his attention to the monitors hanging across the wall. As far as he could tell, it looked like they were upgrading their firewalls and security systems. Lines of green code would look like gibberish to most people, but to him, well – it was like second nature. Already, his mind was spinning a million miles, picking apart the bad lines of code and those which worked.

Archer cleared his throat again, a sound that would no doubt get on Edward’s nerves soon enough. “I’m sure you can probably tell what we’re doing. We’ve been having some trouble keeping a certain group out of our system. They’ve managed to infiltrate our servers and slipped a few viruses in. I’ve been busy updating our firewalls, but I think they’ve opened a backdoor, which I’m having trouble pinpointing.”

“May I?” Edward asked, gesturing to the seat before the monitors.

“Go ahead. Saves me the trouble and going through another headache.”

Edward sat down, though vaguely irritated he bothered to ask for permission, and found himself transported back to a world familiar. Code was like his friend, machines were his friends – they had to be, because no one else would otherwise.

He was quiet as his fingers raced across the keyboard. Quickly finding those holes in the walls that Crux’s dull mind couldn’t discover, even though they were right in front of his face. And when he patched them up in only a matter of minutes, he swiveled back around in his chair and smiled. “All finished,” he said.

Archer blinked and leaned over to get a better look. “You can’t be serious. You’re finished all ready?”

“Why, yes, it was easy, really. Something a dullard like you couldn’t possibly understand.” Oh, there he went again.

Archer crossed his arms. His brows were furrowed, his face shadowed with uncertainty. Pride flickered in Edward’s chest, because of course, he was already better than the imposter standing next to him.

Archer scoffed, “Well, I suppose Cash was right to hire you. I’ve been at that wall for weeks.” But his hand strayed down to his desk, where a pistol rested. When his eyes met Edward’s again, he said quietly, “Just know, I’ve got eyes on all these systems. If you try to sabotage them, I’ll know.”

Edward smiled. “Of course not, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.”

You had expected screaming. Shouting. Gunfire. But when nothing but silence emerged from the Cybercrime office, you found yourself finally relaxing, the tension drained out of your shoulders. Everyone else seemed to find the calm, as well, as least as much as they could after the events that had transpired. Still, there was a part of you that held your breath. Wondering when the shoe would drop, when Riddler’s impulses would take over, when he’d kill someone. Consistently, your eyes strayed back to the office to make sure Archer had not been murdered. Sure enough, he was still alive, and that made your heart swell.

If only you could work up the courage to actually ask Archer out and stop being such a wuss, maybe you’d actually turn your life around. Stop living in your shitty apartment, though you only stayed because the rent was so cheap. After all, the pay increase when you’d been promoted had been nice. Besides, it was close. You didn’t want to drive halfway across Gotham just to get to work.

You blinked your tired eyes. You’d been on desk duty almost all day. Folders and papers were scattered about, an unorganized mess across the table. So much work to do, so much to fill out. Though, it’d been hours, and your shift was close to over for the day. Soon the nightshift would come in. Even though you liked your job, liked making a difference, even you couldn’t help but admit how exhausting today had been.

“Hey,” a voice said, getting your attention.

You swiveled around in your chair to discover that Archer had emerged from his cave and approached you, a mug of coffee in his hands. “Hi,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “How’s it going in there?”

“Well, actually,” Archer replied, which shocked you. “He’s actually not wasting my time.”

“So, he hasn’t told you any riddles?”

“Not yet,” he answered, smirking.

That made you laugh, perhaps a little too forcefully. Your heart thundered in your chest, your cheeks warmed. Archer gently pat your shoulder and walked past and into the commissioner’s office, leaving you feeling a bit defeated. Had the gesture been friendly, or romantic? Your skin tingled from the ghost of his touch.

Brushing a stray hair behind your ear, you glanced back to discover that the Riddler was still completely absorbed in the dozens of screens in front of him. As you expected. You supposed as long as his attention was focused there, then it didn’t hurt anyone, right? That’s what you told yourself. It was easier to keep your spirits up that way.

You stood from your desk to stretch your legs, but soon found yourself wandering into the Evidence Room of the GCPD. It was in there that Cash had collected everything from each of these villains who’d plagued Gotham since you’d been a child. You couldn’t help but wonder how these people had come to be the way they were. How tragedy, manipulation, or their own minds had made them who they were to be. And if it was true, if the Riddler could reform, could the others, too? Or were they simply far too gone down a path of death and destruction to turn back? You paused when you reached the Riddler’s evidence: the giant mecha-robot machine he’d used in an attempt to kill Batman, his hat, his staff. A shudder passed through you and you turned away.

Before you returned to your desk, you paused once again at the watercooler to get yourself something to drink. Your headache had yet to relieve itself, which you were beginning to believe had to do with dehydration. You never even took your lunch break, either, your appetite gone ever since Riddler walked through the doors of the GCPD. Just as you raised your head, you paused and almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you found him standing there.

Ah, of course, he probably wanted water. You supposed even supervillains needed to drink and eat too.

Clutching your cup in hand, you prepared to walk around him, but he said, “So, detective, you did say I should come to you if I need anything. Here I am.”

You sucked in a breath and forced a pleasant, only-for-coworkers smile onto your face. “Yes, Mr. Nigma. How can I help you?”

“I actually request a few things for my desk. These, to be exact.” He handed you a piece of paper, the entire legal pad scribbled with…riddles???

You almost could not believe your eyes. Pages upon pages were filled with riddles.

“What the hell is this?” you asked.

“What I need. Answer the riddle correctly, and it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” He smiled.

You thrust the legal pad back at him. “Absolutely not. No games, Nigma. Is this really what you’ve been doing with your time?”

“I did exactly as Mr. Crux asked me to do. In less than fifteen minutes, I might add. I needed other methods to keep my intelligence from fading while I waited for his further instructions.”

You were quiet, and it felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs. You’d heard the stories. How arrogant he could be. How irritating his riddles were, but you’d never expected to be on the brunt end of them.

“Are you afraid you might fail, detective?” he asked after you didn’t answer. His green eyes felt like they were staring directly into your soul.

Angrily, you snatched the pad out of his hands. “All right, fine. I’ll play your game.”

“I’ll give you 48 hours, since I’m feeling generous.”

"How do you know I won’t cheat?”

“Hm. An excellent point.” He crossed his arms and rested his chin between two fingers, studying you. But then, he leaned a little closer, his size almost overpowering yours. “I know you won’t cheat, detective, because I don’t like cheaters.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Nigma?” you asked quietly.

He pulled back a bit. “Of course not. Just a piece of advice. Forty-eight hours, detective.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving you a stunned and confused mess.

But the thing you hated most was just how much your heart was beating. Just how much his over-bearing presence and obnoxious attitude somehow had such an effect on you. You hated it, feeling vulnerable, even though your pistol was in such easy reach. But, if keeping him distracted with riddles – which you wondered if it was healthy, considering all things – was the one way to go, then so be it.

You glanced at the first riddle, skimming his scribbled writing.

Contrary to my name I am not a queen Hold me up to things though And their length is seen

What could I be?

Huh. You admitted, you were pretty shit at riddles. But you were determined to figure it out. You didn’t want to be made a fool of, or let him think he could walk all over you. Still, you had to tread lightly. The last thing you wanted to be was another Batman, another person who made him feel lessor. But you couldn’t help but wonder: what would happen if you hadn’t solved them all in forty-eight hours? Just what, exactly, did Riddler have in store?

You glanced at the riddle again. Ah, of course, it was simpler than you thought. The answer was a ruler.

What in the world could he want with a ruler?

You shook your head and when you returned to your desk, you wrote the answer down anyways. But when you looked back up, there he was, watching you through the glass with a smug look on his face. You rolled your eyes and swiveled around so your back was to him.

This was going to be a very, very long forty-eight hours.

And perhaps it excited you. Just a bit.

Edward Nigma had never had much interested in women. Of course, like most men, there was once a time when he’d shoot his shot and fail spectacularly. Something that only furthered his insecurities, his uncertainties, his turn towards other pursuits.

So, when he’d handed his legal pad over to you in hopes of a game, just something – anything – to make his new job the slightest bit entertaining, he hadn’t expected the feistiness he’d received in return. That fiery look in your eyes, your quick quips about not wanting to bend to his whims…it had excited him, in a way he hadn’t been excited in a long time. It stirred a fire in his belly. A whirring in his mind – something he was fighting to keep at bay. There was no reason for his mind to wander. Intellectuals like himself did not allow themselves to be distracted by such primal desires.

But still, his gaze fixated on you, just a bit, watching as you turned your back on him. You tried to hide it, but it was clear you were already working your way through his riddles.

Edward Nigma smiled.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

#arkham riddler #the riddler #reader x riddler #the riddler x reader #riddler x you #caesariawrites #riddler x y/n #arkhamverse riddler #riddler fanfic

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jbuffyangel · 9 months ago

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Best Friends: Arrow 1x19 Review (Unfinished Business)

“Unfinished Business” takes a hard look at Oliver’s friendships with Tommy and Diggle, as one relationship crumbles and the other finds stronger footing – after a few missteps.

Prepare yourselves. I might write about the flashbacks this week because Shado provided an information download which was sorely needed.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver and Tommy

Oliver revealed his true identity to Tommy three episodes ago and it feels like their friendship has been a bomb waiting to explode ever since. A girl who partied at Verdant dies from a Vertigo overdose, which puts Quentin hot on Tommy’s trail and Oliver hot on The Count’s. This poor girl sadly is the catalyst for the explosion between Tommy and Oliver we’ve been waiting for.

The “evidence” that convinces Quentin Tommy is dealing Vertigo isn’t exactly irrefutable. The girl texted Tommy before she died, which Tommy easily explains because he receives texts from hundreds of people every night trying to get into the club. Her request for a “hook up” is not for Vertigo as Quentin believes.

The second piece of evidence raises the eyebrows, but Tommy has an explanation – albeit a shady one. There is ten thousand dollars missing from Verdant’s operating budget. Quentin believes Tommy used it to buy Vertigo, but he used it to bribe the zoning commissioner into skipping their inspection. Bribery isn’t great, but it’s a far lesser crime than dealing a deadly drug. L*urel could drive a truck through all that room for reasonable doubt.

This episode is another Merlance highpoint. L*urel believed in Tommy one hundred percent and he called her baby. Just leave me to my grave to die a happy woman.

After Tommy refuses Quentin entry into Verdant without a warrant, the detective comes back with one and it leads to a heart stopping moment. He wants to specifically look at the sub level not listed on the inspection’s floor plans. Ever the dutiful detective, Lance pulled the county records and knows it exists.

In my mind, I know this is not the way Oliver’s vigilante hideaway is getting discovered, but the panic in Oliver’s eyes always sends me to Stressville USA. Especially when he types the code!!! He’s shooting those panicked looks at Tommy who is as cool as a cucumber.

Quentin enters the The Hood's bunker and there’s no bunker! How Tommy moved all that equipment and replaced it with bottles of booze I will never understand. We simply have to believe in the magic of television y’all. Tommy is not going to rat Oliver out and he quite literally saves his ass.

Something Oliver should have known, but his lack of faith in Tommy is evident. It’s something Tommy cannot tolerate, not after everything that’s happened between them. He cannot believe Oliver thought he was dealing drugs out of the club.

Oliver doesn’t understand why Tommy wasn’t honest about the bribe. Oliver loses me right off the bat. Team Tommy all the way. Let’s list out the things you have not told Tommy, Oliver and we’ll see who has the longer list. YOU HID YOUR SECRET SUPERHERO LAIR IN THE CLUB YOU OPENED WITH TOMMY AND NEVER TOLD HIM ABOUT IT. A bribe is chump change in comparison to that lie.

Tommy: Let me ask you a question, pal. What have I done in the last six months since you’ve been home that would lead you to believe that I would sell drugs?

Oliver: In the last six months? Nothing. But before I left you played hard. You played with bad people who were into bad stuff.

Tommy: So, did you Oliver. But I changed just like you did. Now you put arrows in people who do bad things.

Oliver gets owned in this argument, because Tommy is right. He refuses to see that Tommy has truly changed, but still expects Tommy to understand he has.

Source: @htbthomas

Oliver’s changes are a tougher pill to swallow. Tommy cannot understand how Oliver can kill people so easily and, quite frankly, wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t end up with an arrow in him if he told Oliver about the bribe.

Is this insane for Tommy to be wondering? No, I don’t think so. We know Oliver doesn’t kill easily. We know he’s fighting a nightly war and there is a steep cost to this mission.

However, Oliver has not opened up to Tommy about what happened the five years he was away and he’s not Mr. Joe Here’s What I’m Thinking about being The Hood today. Killing is something Tommy cannot understand, but Oliver expects him to accept it with little to no explanation. Then he has the nerve not to trust Tommy? Seriously?

Source: @htbthomas

What Tommy thinks of him is a verbal gut punch to Oliver, but he deserved it. Unfortunately, this fight is not one Oliver can fix with a simple apology. Tommy has reached his limit and who can blame him.

Tommy: This club is important to me, but to you it’s just a front. You want me to keep your secret, help you be this thing you’ve become, but you refuse to see me for what I’ve become. I’ve got just a bit too much self-respect for that. I quit.

BOOM. YASSS MY SON!!! Way to stand up for yourself Thomas. I was so proud of him telling Oliver where to stick it.

Tommy: I’d prefer we skip the I-told-you-so’s, but the nightclub wasn’t really working out. I guess I need something more boring, stable… I guess what I’m saying is - I need a job.

TOMMY WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!! WORST. DECISION. EVER.

Tommy is back in the arms of the Big Bad Malcom Merlyn. For one brief shining moment, Tommy stood tall on the moral high ground, but not five seconds later comes plummeting back down to work with the sludge of the earth.

Source: @fogsblue

Tommy has every right to be pissed at Oliver, but his father is not the answer. That man is a hellscape. Whatever positive changes Tommy has made he is in real danger of a serious backslide. Now that Tommy is on the outs with Oliver, Merlyn can lead his son right to his very own villain origin story. And Tommy may lose sight of who he really is.

Oliver and Diggle (Felicity)

Oliver is firing on all cylinders tonight with his bros. After accusing his best friend of being a drug dealer, Oliver pitches a hissy fit over Diggle not being available the second he’s needed.

John is distracted because he’s consumed with avenging his brother’s death and killing Deadshot. While Oliver was trying to stop a hostage situation with a man high on Vertigo, Diggle was handing over information on Deadshot to a friend from ARGUS.

Hello Lyla! This is her very first Arrow appearance. These two had more chemistry in this single scene than any scene with Diggle and Carly. I don’t know what obsession this show has about siblings dating the same people, but it’s enough already. I have to deal with this crap on The Vampire Diaries.

Oliver is furious Diggle ignored Felicity’s phone call. John hilariously tells Oliver not to get his panties in a twist. He’s completely fine. Oliver pretty much puts his hands on his hips and says, “You couldn’t have known that!” They sound like an old married couple.

John is a little put out Oliver is not more understanding. He thought Oliver would understand his vendetta against Deadshot, since Oliver is walking around with a whole damn list of names from his father! But that’s right. It’s a mission. Not a vendetta. Where’s Helena? We need her around if we’re debating this again.

Diggle chooses to be more specific and reminds Oliver The Count almost killed Thea, so his fervor over getting this drug and criminal off the streets may be a little personal too. Oliver says nothing because it’s true.

Diggle: I can’t move on with my life knowing that he’s still out there. I thought if anybody got that it’d be you.

Oliver doesn’t say anything here either because that’s true too. #TeamDiggle.

Felicity and Oliver discover there’s a new antipsychotic drug added to Vertigo, which makes Oliver believe The Count didn’t break out of the asylum like he thought. Maybe he faked his escape like he faked the crazy.

Close, but no. The Count really is three paper plates short of a picnic. It’s his DOCTOR and a very burly orderly who are manufacturing Vertigo. Honestly, I did not see that one coming.

It’s a Vertigo episode, so Oliver is getting drugged, but this time Diggle does show up to save him. He takes out the horse sized orderly, and Oliver kills the doctor with three arrows. It’s not often The Hood requires more than one to get the job done, but his vision was a bit wonky, so he used three just to be on the safe side.

Both the orderly and the doctor had to die because they knew Oliver Queen was The Hood. Those are the rules. The interesting choice Oliver made was not to kill the Count, who is babbling like a toddler on a telephone.

Arrow uses this moment to draw a very important distinction between Diggle and Tommy. After the boys return home, Oliver wants to know if Diggle is ok. He’s the killer in this family, not John.

Diggle: I’ve killed before Oliver. It’s just been a while.

There is no judgment from either man. It’s just quiet acknowledgement that killing is necessary sometimes. But that doesn’t make it easy.

Tommy’s anger towards Oliver makes him blind to his humanity. Oliver is not a psychopath. He does not kill for the enjoyment of it. He is doing what is necessary to save the city from some really bad people. Tommy takes it too far believing killing is easy for Oliver. He’s furious Oliver doesn’t see the change in him, but the truth is Tommy doesn’t see the change in Oliver either.

This is something Oliver never had to explain to Diggle. John does see the change in Oliver. He stood by quietly as Oliver grappled with killing The Count. Diggle didn’t make any speeches. He simply left space for Oliver to make that decision on his own.

If Oliver chose to kill The Count, John would’ve understood that choice as well. He wouldn’t call him a murderer. John encourages Oliver to make different choices, but he also meets Oliver where he’s at. Maybe Oliver would open up more to Tommy if he offered less judgment like John Diggle.

Diggle is curious why Oliver didn’t kill The Count and he tells him the truth. There just didn’t seem to be a point with the Count chained up and lost to madness.

There are two things Oliver is not saying. He was convinced earlier in the episode that he made the wrong decision allowing The Count to live and was just a teensy bit mad.

Source: @lucyyh

But he couldn’t fire the arrow in the end.

Felicity’s gentle reassurance that locking The Count up was the right call hit her intended mark. If killing is truly a last resort, then Oliver has to utilize other methods of dealing with criminals. Oliver has shown more restraint ever since Felicity joined the team. He hasn’t stopped killing, but he does listen to her.

Source: @lucyyh

The second is Oliver believes killing an unarmed man in that condition would be wrong – like stabbing someone in the back. He’s not a threat in that condition and The Count truly didn’t have anything to do with the Vertigo being unleashed on the city again. There are rules to war and those rules keep his humanity intact.

John Diggle has Oliver’s back, so in return Oliver will have his and is making Deadshot a top priority. Couldn’t we have just done that from the beginning and skipped their couples fight?

Neither Oliver or Tommy can see the other for who they truly are. Yet, people Oliver met barely a year ago have more faith in him than his childhood best friend and vice versus. Sometimes history stops us from allowing change in the people we love.

You can see why Oliver is keeping his identity secret from his family and L*urel. It's not just about their safety. He's afraid they will all react like Tommy.

But there's no baggage with Diggle and Felicity, so Oliver has a clean slate. They can see Oliver for who he truly is. It's becoming clearer with every episode that Diggle (and Felicity) are Oliver's best friends.

Shado

Like Felicity, Shado is a breath of fresh air to Team Island. She is beautiful, kicks ass and knows a thing or two about a bow. Oliver has been helpless majority of the time. I am not expecting him to become a super secret agent man like Slade Wilson in a couple of months, but he does need to perform a function on this team other than dead weight.

Shado takes it upon herself to teach Oliver how to shoot, but she does not start with the bow. She begins by telling Oliver to slap a bowl of water. Like the idiotic American he is, Oliver is annoyed, but doesn’t really have anything better to do, so he slaps the water in the bowl. By episode end, his hand is strong enough to pull the bow string. This woman accomplished more in a day than Slade Wilson did in months.

She also provides some much-needed Yao Fei backstory. He was general in the People’s Liberation Army (the Chinese communist army). The military committed a massacre and chose Yao Fei to take the blame. They sent him to Lian Yu for the rest of his life. Fryers knows this and wants Yao Fei to take the fall for whatever he’s going to do.

And we thought The Count was nuts.

Source: thearrowgifs

As for Shado, she spent years searching for her father. A man told her he knew where Yao Fei was, but kidnapped her instead and brought her to Lian Yu as leverage over Yao Fei. It took nineteen episodes to get that information. Yeesh.

Shado: I’m worried, this island, what he must have had to do to survive. That it changed him.

If this sounds ominous it’s supposed to. Not all change is good. That’s true for all of us - even Oliver Queen.

Stray Thoughts

“You could’ve just said he was nuts.” I like sassy Quentin.

Maybe it’s my whole Buffy history, but Shado and Slade sparring felt very sexually charged.

Budget cuts and the CAMERAS are the first to go in jail?!!!

This will always be one of Diggle's best lines.

TOMMY HAS FELICITY’S PHONE NUMBER. Oh, the fics this detail launched.

What did we ever do in the bunker without this perfect gumdrop of a human being?

“What’s happening now isn’t your fault.” Felicity should’ve tattooed this on Oliver’s arm. It would save a whole lot of time.

“My mom does yoga.” Ollie is just so… Ollie.

1141 is the passcode to the bunker. The Green Arrow was created November 1941 (11/41).

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x19!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me

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lord0f · 11 months ago

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My art vs artist this year! Its honestly been a…really rough year. I moved, I got covid (on my BIRTHDAY), I lost my car…Every time I thought things were going to finally calm down and level out they just, didn’t. I’ve been almost constantly overwhelmed, stuck, and feeling like I’m not moving fast enough to keep up with anything. I’m honestly not very happy with where my art is at right now. I feel stagnated and frustrated and the Big Seasonal Sad is hitting especially hard this year, which is not making me feel very positive or hopeful about improving in the next year.

But I know that I will. It was, frankly, a kind of terrible year. But good things happened as well. I am studying a new language and have been regularly attending lessons, the new place I moved has a balcony I enjoy sitting on when the weather is nice, I know I genuinely have experienced a lot of Art Growth this year (even if it doesn’t feel like I have) and there will always be more of that as long as I don’t Stop.

All this to say, I know this year has kind of been rough for everyone, and I really hope everyone is doing okay and doing what they need to to take care of themselves and each other while times are tough. Things will change. And I’m looking forward to seeing what they become next.

A huge thanks to my amazing commissioners this year, yall have really helped me out when money has been tight and I always appreciate your amazing generosity, patience, and kindness. I am so lucky to truly have the best clients ever, I am brewing you all a hot cozy beverage of your choice. Take care of yourselves through this winter season. May your holidays be as stress-free as they can be. And may you have a wonderful new year.

#yugioh #ygo #my art #art vs artist #i hope yall are doin well #its been a doozy of a year

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starfall-spirit · 1 year ago

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The Little Prima Donna

For @shallyne

Read on Ao3

One shot inspired by the art above of Feyre and her future daughter. Artist: rosebuds.arts on Instagram Commissioner: Shallyne

AN: This is a spot the easter egg (movie quote) fic. My only hint is to think about the art pose if you can't pick it up from the lines alone. Feyre's Court Discord is not allowed to spoil it.

Also, while my next-gen daughter is normally named Roxanna, this is a gift fic, so I will be using Shallyne's preferred name for her, Nemesis.

Reach out in the comments, reblogs, or my asks if you recognize the art pose or the movie I quote. Fic starts below the cut. ☺

It had been weeks since the skies of Velaris had been so sunny and clear. Summer storms had been constant this year and if rain wasn't pouring down then it was disgustingly humid outside. But just this morning the cloud coverage had finally broken, the sky opening to a beautiful blue as the sun's rays danced over the water and land that made their city. The moment Nyx and Nemesis had dressed themselves and cleaned their breakfast plates they had bolted from the table to play on the open front lawn. Feyre and Rhys had followed them out a moment later, Rhys with leisure reading for once and Feyre with her travel paints and a canvas.

She hadn't updated their family portrait since Nemesis was barely old enough to crawl. Here they were, already eight and five, tussling like a couple of wild animals half the time. What happened to the tenderness Nyx showed his infant sister once upon a time, Feyre didn't know. "Careful, running," she called setting her outdoor easel where she wanted it. Though the ground was mostly dry, her children were quite talented at finding whatever mud remained, taking a few nasty falls and ruining their clothes. Some mudstains of the past had been too severe for laundry soap or magic to get out. Those became their painting outfits on the days they joined Feyre in her studio. Rhys mumbled something from the chair beside her, a smirk on his lips even with his nose in his book. "What?"

"Eight years, Feyre. Clothes are replaceable and fae children are next to invincible."

He was assuming her reaction was still about some deep-rooted instincts about human weakness and poverty. Not so long ago he may have been right. And she still had moments she had to remind herself she could eat her fill or spend money more freely. But not this time. This time was the simple matter of their second child taking after Rhys and being a little prima donna. "You deal with the diva when Nyx kicks up mud on her dress then. She refused to let me pick out old play clothes this morning."

"It's her birthday. You like looking nice on your birthday, don't you?" Unfolding his glasses, he pointedly turned back to his book, long legs stretching out in front of him. She let her gaze linger on certain features on the way back up. The scrawl of ink marking their death bargain, the strong muscles there leading up the rest of his body, the last of his tattoos just peeking past his unbuttoned collar. Every inch of him had been well explored after a near decade together, and yet Feyre still never tired of the sight. "You're checking me out. Again."

"Seeing as you're still the most beautiful male I've ever met, it's a privilege I'll continue utilizing as your mate."

He hummed. "Even with my old man readers?"

"Especially with your old man readers." She leaned over to kiss him before turning her attention to her pallet so she could begin her underpainting.

He paused his reading for a moment, closing the book over his hand to mark his place. "Do you think they'll find this one day? A mate they'll truly love?" She furrowed her brow. They'd touched upon this discussion in ways, casually noting that both their children were bound to break hearts, but they hadn't gone to the depth of a healthy mating bond. Or an unhealthy one for that matter. "You and I have the best kind of bond. If we set that expectation... I don't want to see my parents' fate for anyone, especially not my children."

She took his hand. "Rhys, you're asking a pretty big question, regarding a pair of younglings." The look he gave her begged her to humor him. She sighed. "I don't know if they'll find a bond and be happy, or if they'll struggle, or if they'll be so hopelessly in love with someone else they never find their mate. What I do now is that major conflict is behind us now and we have all the time in the world to let them find out."

"I just—"

A shrill scream had them both standing, only to find Nemesis flying toward them. "Hey, hey, hey. What's going on?"

Just as Feyre had predicted this morning, her daughter's pink birthday dress was splattered with mud and grass from the hem up to half of the skirt, her carefully pinned hair and bow askew. "Mother, he pulled my hair and kicked mud up on me!"

"Well, she started it!" Nyx huffed, always quick to defend himself, whether he was in the right or wrong.

Nose scrunched and hands on her hips, Nemesis raised her chin, her posture nearly perfect. "Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them," she said haughtily.

Rhys' hand flew up to his mouth, muffling a laugh no doubt. Don't you dare encourage that, Rhysand.

Me? Never, darling.

Both of you need to play kindly," he admonished. "Nyx, it's your job to set an example for your sister." A wave of his free hand and the fresh mud was gone, the birthday dress a pristine pink once again. "How's that, little star?"

"Better. Thank you, Daddy." Nyx crossed his arms, glaring daggers at his sister as she flounced over to Feyre. "Will you fix my hair again? Please?"

Feyre shook her head, eyeing the lopsided half-part and the pathetic bow attached. "Turn around." Retying the small ponytail and sliding the bow in place, Feyre leaned forward to kiss her daughter's cheek. "There you are, my love. Now, be nice to your brother. Nyx, you be nice too. I'm sure whatever happened was an accident. Both of you try to have fun with each other until your cousin comes over." They exchanged a look, and like every other disagreement, this one melted away, right back into a fresh game of tag. "That was your diva."

Rhys chuckled. "Of course, Feyre darling."

For a long while they sat in a content silence, Rhys reading, Feyre painting. "I don't think there’s anything to fear. I think we've both spent so long seeing the worst of the world the doubt always comes first. That may always be the case. But for them, I want to believe there's something—someone perfect for them and what they need—waiting to be found. Isn't that all we can do?"

"Someone waiting," he repeated. "I think you just might be onto something there."

~~~~~

Taglist:

@goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @the-lost-changeling // @darling-archeron // @faeriequeensuriel // @gwynkyrie // @pandavelaris // @corcracrow // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn

#acotar #feysand #fanfiction #next gen #read on ao3 #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyx #nemesis #she's only five and already has that haughty high lady energy #gift fic #rhys is wearing glasses again #dilf energy and im here for it #you should be too

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