#I'm so upset at those people that don't get her character

[demiaroacejadeharley]

I'm appalled by the way Vivziepop stans are treating Octavia for setting boundaries between her and Stolas. What really upsets me the most about it, I was in a similar situation as Octavia when I was younger. My father acted the same way Stolas did (minus the cheating) and put his girlfriend and her kids over my brother and I. He would do everything he could to not see my brother and I on the days that were supposed to be his visitation days.

The misogyny radiating from both Vivziepop and her fans makes me extremely uncomfortable. And it doesn't help that there have been instances on here where stans are invading the anti and critical tags just to harass anyone who makes one small criticism about Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, and Vivziepop as a person and content creator.

I've said this before in another post, and I will say this again in case stans see this post, but I don't care if people watch Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. And I don't have an issue with people watching the shows. My only concern is those people who take any criticisms about both shows and the creator to heart and attacking anyone who makes those critiques. You could literally say that you wish that certain characters weren't drawn using too many shades of red, and you'll get shit on for it.

The whole "don't like, don't look" mentality needs to be normalized. If stans don't like people critiquing Vivziepop and her work, then they shouldn't be going through the anti and critical tags. They can easily just block antis/critics that come onto their feed and filter out the anti and critical tags. It's so easy to avoid any anti and critical content. But they instead decided to bully and harass anyone who says anything remotely critical.

To end this post (and in case any stan sees this post), I don't go into the regular tags and harass stans. As a matter of fact, I'm not on here often due to my mental health and other offline stuff. I'm also in the process of trying to find a full-time job because working part-time isn't financially supporting me anymore. People watching Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss isn't my main issue. My issue is stans harassing anyone that doesn't like the shows and Vivziepop.

[noridoorman]

"Uzi acts like an attention starved 14-year-old who thinks they are depressed while they have no idea what hardships can happen in life" (rough paraphrase)

Did we watch the same show? No, seriously, did we watch the same show?!

Oh yeah, I guess Uzi only THINKS she is depressed and SOOOO naive about REAL hardships in life, like having a dead mother, a neglectful dad, being a victim of bullying, getting infected with eldritch monster genetics, getting posessed against your will several time, killing all your classmates WHILE posessed and also fighting and emotionally manipulating your crush STILL WHILE POSESSED, sacrificing yourself because you think it is the only way to save said crush, watching your home planet get torn into pieces as the no-more-little-sister of your crush tries to eat the planet, see the LITERAL HEART of your crush-turned-boyfriend pulled out his chest and swallowing a weird black hole even though you have no idea what it could do to you. But ya'll, she's just an edgy 14-year-old that has no idea

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

lot of ppl upset abt the lack of. Any Real Acknowledgement of Gojo dying and I'm not saying they're wrong but I did realize that I think that's pretty much just how JJK is. Like Riko died. Anyway. Kuroi maybe? We don't know. Haibara died. Ok. Geto died. Like that's a big part of the plot but Gojo doesn't tell the first years SHIT about him. They just know there's a weird monk fucking everything up (and that's fucking Kenjaku lmao). Nanako and Mimiko. Nanako and fucking Mimiko. Like I'm not saying this is... Okay I'm mad about Riko bc like. She's a big part of the reason Geto BECAME A MASS MURDERER I'd enjoy if he mourned her more. I JUST REMEBERED THAT YUKI DIED. And Choso. ANYWAY I don't think this is Terrible Storytelling bc it does feel indicative of the way Jujutsu Society treats sorcerers (and potentialy civilians) where you're just expected to fucking Move Along. And I think there might be something genuine in Gojo, being a part of that system, still feeling like what he wants is to fade away after he dies, arguably showing that in the end he is the same as everyone else, he's human, he's mortal. And that being both a genuine desire and warped coping mechanism, and the way that's hard to truly parse. But also it does kinda sucks when the characters seem to straight up Forget the ppl who died... Like. Sorry I just got so mad Abt Larue and Miguel and THEY DONT EVEN TALK ABOUT NANAKO AND MIMIKO? TBEY TALK ABOUU MISSING GETO BUT WE CANT GET A SINGLE FUCKING MENTION OF HIS GOD DAMN DAUGHTERS? anyway the treatment of death in JJK is a good Foundation for themes and emotional resonance but uhhh Gege kinda sucks at writing so it's. It's eh

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[kg-day]

I'm so tired of people telling those of us who are upset about the LA atla remake that we are "being too dramatic" or are just "finding things to be upset about". We are allowed to be upset that something that we love so dearly has been butchered, AGAIN. If you liked it, then that's your personal opinion, but don't sit here and tell those of us who didn't that we're the problem.

I personally think the CGI, costumes, and sets all look terrible. None of it is immersive. Sure, it LOOKS like atla, but it doesn't FEEL like atla. The heart of the og is gone, and people are allowed to be upset about this. They've altered characters to the point that they aren't the character anymore (looking at you Aang and Katara), which is a huge upset for me personally because Katara is one of my favorite characters ever. So watching her be turned into someone meek and docile is more than a slap to the face. Not to mention them removing her as the narrator as if Bryke themselves didn't state that Katara is the person the story is being told through. And before you start telling me that Aang is the same. No, he isn't. Major parts of his development through season 1 (him coming to terms with the fact that he's the avatar and embracing that role, and him also accepting the fact that he RAN AWAY and how he is never going to do that again, which is also pivotal to his character later on) are completely removed. And don't even get me started on what they did to Kataang. Regardless of whether you ship them or not, those 2 are deeply connected to one another from the start, and their relationship is a big part of the show, so to see that butchered is heartbreaking for me.

This isn't just about them "making some changes" or it not being a 1:1 adaptation. I'm fine with adaptations that aren't 1:1. What I'm upset about is that the changes they are making are VITAL changes to characters and dynamics between characters. They're rushing through the plot and condensing the story (and I will scream if I hear one more person say that it's because they couldn't fit it all in with their runtime. The runtime is an HOUR LONGER than the og, so yes, they did have the time). The changes they are making make it evident that they do not understand the og show, and if you don't feel like that, fine, once again, that's YOUR opinion, just as this is MY opinion. So stop telling us we have no right to be upset and that we just want to hate everything. That's not true. What is true is that we are expressing valid complaints about another bad adaptation of something dear to us.

Edit: If you also come at people who are upset bc they were expecting a faithful adaptation and didn't get it bc "its not supposed to be the cartoon," you're missing the whole point. An adaptation is ADAPTING SOMETHING from one medium to the other, not rewriting it. "Yall expected it to be just like the cartoon." No, I expected a FAITHFUL ADAPTATION and was met with poorly written fanfiction.

[snickerdoodlles]

one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

[saphiccarma]

Can you make a plot where fem!reader is in a relationship with Rio and Agatha, and throughout all these centuries, when Agatha and Rio were at odds after Nicholas's death, reader tries to support both of them, and tries to bring them together so that everything would be as before? And like, then we get to the end of the show, and reader can't stand watching her two loves fight all the time. Especially if Agatha might die. So the reader sort of sacrifices herself, allowing Rio to take her body instead of Billy's or Agatha's, even though both Agatha and Rio beg her very hard not to do this.

- Two sides, same coin

Relationships: Agatha Harkeness x Reader, Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: After Nicky, it was never the same. Both of your lovers were at odds, and finally you had enough.

Warnings: Major Character death, angst, kissing.

Agatha was smiling wickedly as power surged through her. You frowned slightly, upset at the way she seemed content with killing people, but you had grown used to it over the years. Nicky had broken her, and you were doing your best to pick up the pieces, but she tried to push you away with all the death. Considering you were also seeing Death; it was hard to scare you off using it.

"Feel better?" You raised a brow as she snapped her gaze towards you, totally unaware you had been standing there. Leaning against a tree with your arms crossed, you pushed off, making your way towards her. You were grateful to stop leaning against the harsh material.

The minute you were close enough Agatha pulled you in for a harsh kiss, her lips claiming yours and hands roaming over your body. You gasped into her mouth and she only deepened it further, her tongue exploring your mouth, her touch hungry and need apparent.  

"Now that you're here," her lips moved down your neck as she whispered the words.

As much as you loved her, you knew where this would head if you didn't stop it, and currently the two of you were in the middle of a field with the ankle high grass gently swaying against your skin. Gently, you cupped her face and brought it so that she was eye-level with you.

"I like this," you hummed, and clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth, "But maybe not right now?"

Pointedly, you glanced at your surroundings. Anyone could stumble upon the two of you at any moment. Not only the two of you, but also the half a dozen bodies that laid, pale and wrinkled on the floor. Agatha grumbled but took settled her hands on her lips and pecked your lips gently.

"I missed you," she mumbled, pout evident in her tone.

You smiled at her, "I missed you too."

Some days, Agatha was closed off. She wanted nothing to do with you on those days, always trying to scare you off and act as if it was normal for her to be like that. Those were the times where you just had to ride it out, be there for her with soft assurances and patient smiles.

Other days, like this one, Agatha was a bit softer. There was still her usual roughness, that was how she showed affection, but she accepted your warmth with a smile. These days were your favorite.

Agatha's thumbs rubbed soft circles onto your hips, and she bit her lip. Patiently, you waited for whatever she had to say. Eventually, her head fell to rest on yours, her eyes meeting yours and only now did you realize they were filled with tears.

You cooed softly, a sound that made her crinkle her nose slightly, but you pressed a soft kiss to her nose.

"What's wrong?"

Agatha scowled, but not in an angry way, more so in an 'I'm upset and don't know how/want to tell you.' It was a look you were familiar with.

"I miss him," she whispered quietly, pain lacing her words as she sniffled slightly, "He- I want him back. She had no right to take him."

You sighed - Rio had every right. It was her job; it was the only reason that Rio was born. Deep down, Agatha knew that, but she didn't want to accept that her son was fated to die from the start. There was nothing she could do to save him. You always struggled to come up with a good response when Agatha said something like that.

"I know," is what you settled on, "I know."

"I want him back," she repeated, her icy blue eyes were filled with tears and yet not one fell. You don't think Agatha has shed a tear since the day Nicholas died. Not once.

You swallowed thickly and rubbed your thumbs over her sharp cheekbones - she hadn't been eating much lately and that made them all the more prominent - and offered a sad smile. Moving your arms down, you pulled her into a hug. She clutched the fabric of your dress tightly and buried her head in your neck with a small sniffle.

Surrounded by bodies, knowing Rio would show up soon, you held onto Agatha, letting her relax in your arms. It was easy to ignore the bodies littered around you, knowing their souls would be collected soon. Besides, all that mattered at that moment was Agatha.

^____________^

You lounged casually on the couch, twirling a flower between your fingers as you stared at the ceiling. Rio sat in a chair, scribbling on a piece of paper, and growling in frustration when whatever she was working on didn't work. Once again, she crumpled the piece of paper in her hands and tossed it away, joining the pile.

"At this rate you're going to go through all my paper," you remarked. The flower in your finger wrinkled slightly and you glared at Rio. It was probably unintentional, but it was her flower, so her emotions were probably affecting it.

Rio didn't glance at you as she muttered, "Shut up."

She grabbed another piece of paper, setting it in front of her with more force than necessary. You snorted a small laugh, and she glanced at you with a raised brow.

"That's not what you were saying last night."

Rio sighed at that and rolled her eyes, but you could see a small smirk curling at the corners of her lips and amusement glittering in her eyes.

"Do you need something?"

"You're in my house," you reminded her, "Using up all of my paper."

Almost guiltily, Rio glanced at the pile of paper that had completely missed the trashcan she was aiming for, but she didn't say sorry. Instead, she just sighed, stood from her chair, and walked over to you. She plopped down right on top of you, straddling your hips with a wicked grin. You pretended to be crushed under her weight, gasping dramatically.

"You don't mind," she said lowly, leaning down, "You like it when I visit."

You couldn't deny that "Only when I know what you're working on." At that, Rio bit her lip, looking away. Sighing, you tapped her cheek and brought her eyes back to yours. "I'm only kidding, you don't have to tell me."

"You're insufferable," she muttered, getting closer until her lips were pressed against yours.

"So are you," you countered when she pulled away.

Rio smirked wickedly, "You love me."

Her lips crashed back onto yours and you melted into her touch.

^_________________^

You played with Agatha’s fingers, twisting them together with your own and pulling at them softly. It kept you pacified as you tried to formulate the words you wanted to say.

“I invited Rio over,” you whispered softly. Her shoulder stiffened from where you rested against it, and she exhaled sharply.

“You what?”

Her words were dripping with a warning, a silent threat that she would try and rip Rio’s throat out the moment she showed up.

“I invited Rio over,” you repeated slowly, firmly. It had been years, hundreds of them, since both of your lovers had been together. You wanted nothing more than for it to be like before. You wanted to spend the evenings curled between them as you watched the sun set. To present freshly baked bread to them when they returned from whatever they were doing during the day.

Agatha stood abruptly, turning and storming out without a word. You sat on the floor, staring at your hands as silence encompassed the room. Tears filled your eyes and you felt something wet trickle down your cheek.

You were stupid for believing that Agatha would have forgiven Rio – It had been forever and you were fucking sick of playing both sides.

There was a flash, and you hastily wiped away your tears with the back of your sleeve, painting a coy smile onto your smile as Rio appeared. She carried a bouquet of flowers, purple azaleas and other assortments of purple flowers. Your heart warmed.

The other woman glanced around, her eyes completely skipping over you, “Is she here?”

You shook your head with a sigh. Rio nodded sadly, dropping her flowers onto the desk behind her and marching towards you. She took your face into her hands and kissed you roughly. You let out a muffled squeak as she pushed you back until you hit the wall.

“At least I have you,” she murmured against your skin, her hands roaming over your body. You tried to let her distract you from the lingering pain in your heart.

^________________^

"Enough!" You screamed, magic blasting from your fingertips as you threw your lovers back. Agatha crashed into the fence and Rio fell into the house. A flicker of guilt passed through you, but you hardly noticed it, too focused on getting them to stop fighting, "Stop it, both of you."

You used your magic to bind Agatha, keeping her tied up and unable to move, and walked over to Rio.

"Take me, if you need a soul so badly, take mine."

It could work like that; you knew it could. That was how long Nicky lived, Rio took souls in exchange for his. Rio blinked up at you, unsure and concerned.

"Darling, I know you want to be with me forever, but this is really not that way to do it."

You shrugged, uncaring for her term of endearment. When you sensed Agatha stop struggling, you let her free. She wasted no time grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you to face her.

"Don't," She whispered harshly, "I can't lose you too."

Licking your lips, you smiled at her softly, "You won't be losing me, you'll see me again." She leaned into your touch as you held her face between your hands, "I can't stand to see you two fight, all these years. I love you both oh so very much and it hurt me to see you fight."

A brief expression of guilt crossed Agatha's face and tears filled her eyes. You pulled her in for a kiss, pressing your lips onto hers for one last time. It took her a second, but Agatha reincorporated it, kissing you back harshly and pulling you in closer by your hips. You whined at the bruising grip she had. Not that you minded.

"I'll see you again," you whispered once she pulled away, breathless.

Agatha shook her head, desperate, but there was nothing she could do when you removed yourself from your grip and turned to face Rio. The woman was standing now, her brow furrowed and lips downturned.

"You don't have to do this," she said, and you could see the underlying concern in her voice, the plead for you not to, "I can hunt down the boy, take him instead."

"I know, but he deserves to live a long life," You turned your head back towards Agatha, "I lived a good life with the two of you. It's my time, not his." And maybe you should have done this years ago when Nicky was alive, but you don't think there was anything you could do to save the son of Death, "Besides, I can see Nicky again."

Pain flickered in Agatha's eyes, but you took Rio's hands in your own. Death herself looked hesitant to do her job. Her brown eyes were wide with trepidation and saw the slightest gleam of tears, just barely noticeable.

"I'll be alright," you told her, "I want this."

Those were the words of confirmation Death needed to do her job, but it was not what Rio wanted to hear. The witch bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. She was so different from the usual snarky Rio who took what she wanted and was constantly teasing you.

"Rio, I'll be with you forever."

She sighed, "But I don't want to take more from her."

Her words were quiet enough that you hardly heard them, even though you had stepped close, and they hit you hard. Rio had lost as much as Agatha. When Agatha lost Nicky, Rio lost both of them in a way. Losing you would mean losing Agatha again. At least in Rio's mind.

"It's not your fault," you said, loud enough for Agatha to hear, "This is my choice. Not yours, you are only doing what I ask of you."

Faintly, you could hear an anguished sound leave Agatha, as if she had realized that it was never Rio's fault all along, but you kept your eyes trained onto Rio. Death herself had a tear trail down her cheek. You reached up, brushing it away with a soft smile. Leaning forward, you pressed the softest kiss to Rio's lips.

Her power surged through you as her fingers found your wrists, feeling your pulse as it slowly dimmed. You felt life leaving you as Rio's energy stole your life force. Shutting your eyes, you welcomed death with open arms, happy with all you had done on earth with your lovers.

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

The fact that they killed off silco at the end of season 1 and STILL managed to completely butcher his character in s2 irks me so much. And it got worse with every scene like

The burial and the sucker montage was perfectly fine, though they forgot silco can't close both eyes and had a bullet wound in his chest

The way he is still encouraging Jinx to be Jinx in her ep4 hallucination is a little odd since he died accepting her before she truly chose Jinx but overall it was good

Warwicks hallucination was neat but Silco's hair is completely inconsistent with what we see in s1 (and just looks trash imo)

The letter was a disaster because it is such a cheap reason for the betrayal

The Felicia thing made their reasoning so much worse, they don't need to be godfathers to adopt those kids and the scene was just so pointless

The au scene- I don't even know what to say. Vander literally tried to murder Silco but it's OK because aw forgiveness and they are back together?! If Vander tried to kill Silco because he genuinely believed he was protecting his people from further bloodshed maybe I could get behind it but no, he tried to kill Silco because his friend died (which wasn't even Silco's fault) and he just 'lost his head'? And does Silco just not develop trust issues after that in the au? How is his scar somehow less bad if he doesn't have shimmer to heal it? It literally makes zero sense.

And the thing with Silco telling Jinx to 'break the cycle' was just an absolute insult to his character. He literally died choosing war/violence rather than giving up Jinx. His whole goal was to keep fighting for what he believed in. And is he seriously encouraging Jinx to kill herself? The man who chose to keep fighting rather than give in to the 'peace in water'? The man who would do anything to keep Jinx alive, even when death was the kinder option? The man who gave up his dream, everything he'd ever been fighting for, just to keep her safe?

They messed up so bad that the only flawless scene of him was a one second shot of him sitting in a chair 💀

The only good thing about what happened in this season is I'm genuinely not even upset that he is a minor character in season 2 anymore. I can't believe I'm saying this but I genuinely can't be mad about it. Because if they can ruin his character this much with his little screentime I can't even imagine the harm they would have done if he were still a main character.

Sometimes death is a mercy after all.

[housederiva]

so now that veilguard is out and digested, what would you say the best place for a complete newcomer to get into dragon age is? does origins still hold up as a fun opening game fifteen years later?

Dear listener my advice is to play Veilguard before the first 3 installments. I genuinely believe that it would be enjoyed more if you don't know what has been lost/what has been taken from you cut beforehand. The only thing from the first 3 installments that matter in Veilguard is one possible choice your Inquisitor makes, romancing Solas (If you don't have a previous inquisitor I highly recommend making her a Lavellan who was/is in love with him in Veilguard's cc, they have a beautiful story)

While Veilguard is a good RPG, it is not a good Dragon Age game. If you know what shoulders it's standing on, the luster will wear off very quickly. I love it for what it is and I will mourn it for what it is not - and that's okay in a sad, almost bitter way. Inquisition was game of the year for a reason and subsequently Veilguard wasn't mentioned at all for another

On the flip side though (and please keep in mind I'm saying this as someone who played origins in 2009) Origins, Awakening, 2, Inquisition, and most of their DLC's are a branching, beautiful story that will leave a permanent mark on your heart And you can choose what those marks are because your actions in origins ripple out into Inquisition (some more so than others). It will echo out through any other media you love in the future and depending on how old you are it will rewire bits of your brain because let me tell you playing Inquisition at 15 did something to me. Yes, the combat mechanics aren't the greatest in Origins and 2 is a little annoying to play on PC but their stories are wonderful...

What is it like to be thrust into a position of importance and did it stem from choice or survival? Is conscription liberating or a chain of resentment? What is it like to lose your home only to slowly build another that you love and cherish just to watch it crumble away? To know that no matter what you do, it was for nothing? What does it mean when you are suddenly a beacon of hope for a people that possibly are not even your own? What does it feel like to be held in such a regard that you are seen as the voice of a god and no longer a person? Are you afraid that your name will be erased - your culture will be erased, and you will just remain your title just like the one that came before you?

If you have no prior experience with Dragon Age play Veilguard first. That way you won't be upset about what has happened to [redacted's] character or the fact that tranquility is never mentioned and several other things that I don't need to go into here. But without playing the others first, you won't understand the severity of the Blight, your tether Varric won't be as strong, the injustice done to the elves and dalish will go unnoticed. You won't know what it means to be a mage in southern Thedas. You won't know what it means to be castless or saarebas, you won't know what vallaslin is.

If Veilguard is the first experience you have with Dragon Age then you won't know the teeth the series used to have, you'll only have what they're passing off as a growl and you'll be satisfied with that

Also yes, origin still does hold up 15 years later. It of course has the standard graphics of its time and the battle mechanics are a little clunky. But the story will wrap itself inside your mind and you will never be able to get it out

[meanbossart]

What do you mean with 'an incident he just kind of stumbled onto' referring to Du drow's loss of virginity? I don't recall you talking about his first time with sex so sorry if you've already addressed the topic

Hm I'm honestly not sure if I have! I'm just doing to assume not.

A bit of context: DU drow operated as a vagrant between the ages of 12 through 18. He resided and sustained himself mostly in the woods between cities and occasionally stopped by towns to take odd-gigs and supplies he might be in need of. While he did know how to speak and act around people to at LEAST not be considered a complete lunatic, he definitely came off as a major odd-ball and probably became a bit of a character wherever he went.

Most people were not interested in becoming acquaintances with him, let alone friends or lovers. It's also worth remembering that he looked vastly different back then - he was a 6'5" lanky young man with a gaunt face, sinewy body and almost hip-length hair that he didn't comb and barely washed, not to mention assumed to be a drow of some sort by most and hence, stigmatized and avoided wherever he went. This was the one exception:

He met an elven woman in the outskirts of town who offered him shelter for a night, a bath and cooked food. She was a widower and a lonely person in her own right who was probably charmed by his eccentricity and the mystery surrounding him. She wasn't a seductress or with any kind of evil intent - rather, somebody who felt a connection to this man who she assumed to be an ostracized drow just trying to get by, and believed that a little kindness could go a long way. And to emphasize: someone who was very lonely and likely had baggage of her own.

DU drow was socially inept but he still developed as any "normal" man would, he had a vague idea of what sex was even without having ever partaken in it, and he found her attractive. So, when she shyly came onto him during that night he simply went along with it, and they had an encounter that though awkward, was otherwise normal by all intents and purposes.

Afterwards, the elf attempted to get him to open up to her in conversation and in the process, found out that DU drow was only seventeen years old. She became upset and asked him to leave, which DU drow would have done without inflicting any further harm had Sceleritas not stopped him on the way out.

DU drow has always experienced an emotional overlap of sorts between sex, love and violence, and would have had visions and urges around this woman the same as he goes on to have with Astarion, simply choosing to not act upon them because he saw no reason to. Sceleritas told him that those experiences were a sign, and that taking this person's life was now a part of his supposed "trials". Since DU drow had let himself be entirely brainwashed in this pursuit for greatness at that point, he fulfilled the butler's bidding with no questions. Going back into the home, killing the elf in her bedroom, and leaving the town that same night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm feeling very Little Lies about this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So this is the reason you missed Thanksgiving," a butter knife jabs in your direction as you poke at the white turkey meat; this? You look up then at Lloyd as he nearly chokes. 

"Uh, yeah," he coughs behind his fist and swallows, "we were out of the country..." 

"Yes, why would you bother to stay. No use in seeing your mother at the holidays, or the rest of your family," she reproaches. 

"Mom," he groans. 

"For ten years," William adds from his wife's side. "Now you show your face and you look as if you're eating rotten apples." 

"No," Lloyd argues. "It's just... I'm busy and I don't get a lot of time away from work." 

"We all have obligations," Gwenyth argues. 

"Well, I took her away so I could propose," he explains as he presses his fork into the whipped potatoes. "And it worked out perfect, right? Cause now I can bring her to meet everyone." 

Gwenyth hums flatly, "I suppose." She clicks her tongue and takes a healthy gulp of wine. 

"So, Pixie," Lillian drawls from further down, "what do you do for work? Oh let me guess. A librarian?" 

You don't let the suggestion bother you. You don't see it as an insult even if she says it like one. You shake your head. 

"No, I--" you begin and Lloyd stomps your foot so you bite down on your voice.  

"She is a corporate consultant. International corporation," he explains.  

"Oh, wow, sounds busy," Gwenyth remarks. 

"Yes, how will you have time for children?" Lillian challenges. 

"I'm sure they'll find time to make them," Benson chortles over his snifter.  

"Ben, please," William rebukes. 

"We're focusing on the wedding before all that," Lloyd says. 

You peer around as you chew your cheeks in frustration. You're annoyed by how they speak of you as if you're not even there, and so intimately. Yet, you don't have much to say for yourself. This whole facade is tiresome and you really don't care what they think about a made-up job. Or marriage, for that matter. 

"That will be done with quickly," Gwenyth sniffs. "And she will need to quit that job if she wants to do her duty as your wife." 

"I can handle a job and a husband," you blurt out. 

The table quiets as if stunned that you can speak. You blink and Lloyd puts his fork down and touches your arm, "sweet pea--" 

"I highly doubt you'd be marrying him for any other reason than that nest egg promised to him," Lillian scoffs. "You don't need to play a saint with us, darling. Marriage is a transaction in more ways than one; affection, money, sex--" 

"Lilly," William warns and she laughs. 

"Well?" She shrugs. "You do know, the wedding only guarantees a twenty percent payout. He needs an heir to get all of it." She pets her stomach smugly and smiles. "I can assure you it's well worth it. Once you meet Lorelai, you'll see." 

"Oh? Maybe when you meet her, you'll consider being a mother too," Lloyd retorts. 

"Excuse me?" Lillian snarls. "I love my daughter." 

"Of course you so," he sneers. "I'm sure she feels all that love right now as she enjoys her turkey and carrots with the nanny." 

"I can't have her around adults and alcohol. You can't possibly understand," she snaps. "And maybe it's better that you never do. I could never imagine you as a father, especially when you are such a child." 

"Takes one to know one," Lloyd growls. 

"Enough," William barks. "Both of you." 

Ransom laughs loudly at the end of the table. Lloyd shifts and Lillian rolls her eyes. You sigh at your plate. You miss your family. For the first time in years, you truly miss them. 

"What the hell are you laughing at, Hugh? The only reason you're here is because your grandpappy exiled you." 

Linda gasps, "He's not exiled--" 

"Oh, right, of course not, Lin, that's why you're here breaking bread with the peasants. That's what you called us at great grandmother's wake--" 

"Lloyd, watch your mouth," William snarls. "Better yet, shut it." 

Lloyd recoils in his chair and stiffens. His features sharpen then he lowers his chin and picks up his fork. His jaw is stone as he stirs the gravy into his potatoes. You wouldn't call him humbled, more whipped like a dog. These people make you feel something for him you never thought you could; sympathy. 

"I don't care about money that much," you say. "It can't buy respect. Besides, I would never marry a man without a prenup. Whatever Lloyd has will remain his." You push your shoulders back as a yawn tickles in your throat. "At this point, he can keep you lot as well." 

You stand up and take the cloth napkin from your lap. You fold it neatly, "Gwenyth, you can tell whoever cooked dinner that it was delicious. I appreciate you all having me but I'm going to go find a hotel and some peace." You step around the chair and push it into the table, "happy holidays." 

You turn, your insides jittering. What are you doing? Where did that come from? You could say you're tired and not thinking straight, but honestly, you're just so repulsed by these people that your head could explode. They're lucky they only got a a few pieces of shrapnel. 

You march out without looking back. Your cheeks tinge hotly with self-awareness. You've messed it all up. After years of harnessing your emotions under Hansen's thumb, you finally snapped. You blew it all. 

"What she said," another chair scrapes as Lloyd speaks. "Mom, dad, good night." 

You enter the hall and head for the entry way. You hear him beside you. You're still foggy with disbelief. It isn't until you sit to put on your boots that you notice Lloyd. 

"I know, I'm done. Fired." You pull on your leather booties. "I'll take the severance and figure it out." 

"I didn't say so," he says as he grabs a coat from the closet. 

"Um..." 

"You're completely right. We can't stay here. They're all a bunch of pricks and they wonder why I didn't come home for ten years," he pulls on his coat as he speaks. He pushes back his hair then smooths his mustache. "We're better off at the hotel. We'll sleep better there--" 

"We? Lloyd, please. Stay with your family. I need space," you stand and reach past him for your jacket. "Besides, I booked a single queen and it's Christmas Eve." 

"Queen's big enough. You're tiny--" 

"Okay, no, no," you hiss. "It's not happening. Stay--" 

"But I don't want to," he whines. 

"Mr. Hansen," you say. "You're out of your mind." 

"Well, after your blow up, I don't think I'm welcome," he puts his hand on his hip. "So this is your last chance to save your job. You made the mess, you clean it up." 

"Me?" You exclaim. 

He hushes you and step closer, "Pix, you already made a scene, let's not do the encore. I'm gonna grab my bags, alright?" 

"You can't be serious." You say. 

"Hey, I gotta play the loyal husband--" 

"And why exactly is that necessary? Why couldn't you get one of those Tinder girls?" 

"Woah, woah, come on, someone will hear you," he covers your mouth with his hand and you turn your face away with a blech. "Go warm up the car. We'll talk on the ride to the hotel." 

You stare at him. He watches you, as uncertain as you've ever seen him. In the silence, you can hear the din in the other room. 

"Always was such a baby," Lillian laughs venomously. 

"He could've chosen someone without an iron spine," Gwenyth adds. 

You grimace and throw your hands up, "fine, get your things." 

"You're the best," he grabs your shoulders but before he can kiss you, you put your hand up to pinch his nose. He recoils and rubs the tip, "ow." 

"No more of that," you say as you pull your keys out of your pocket. "Thank god I only had one glass of wine." 

You stomp out the front door. The frigid winter air hits you like a bus. Once one even ground, the swirling snow flecks onto your shoulders and hair. Great, now you get to drive in the snow with an unwanted passenger. 

You get in the driver seat and push the ignition. You turn on the heater and the heated seats. At least Hansen pays enough for the add-ons. Still, you’re not sure there’s any compensation equal to what you just went through. 

You look over as the front door opens and closes. Lloyd rolls a giant suitcase with him, another smaller bag strapped on top, and a third in his other hand. You don’t move as you watch him descend the steps, easing the wheels over the edge one-by-one. 

He comes down the long walk and jerks as his loafers slip on the icy pavement. It would be funny if you weren’t so damn exhausted. You steadies himself and continues on. You should get out and help him. You don’t. 

You pop the trunk with the button. He loads in his bags as you check the rear view. He comes around the passenger side and pulls the door open. He lets out an obnoxious ‘brrrr’ as he drops into the seat next to you. You shift gears as he shuts the door. 

“Ugh, I feel so much better getting out of there,” he says as he adjusts the seat, making room for his long legs. 

“Why?” 

“Um, why not? My family is the worst--” 

“No, why did you drag me into this?” You ask as you lean into the wheel and squint over it. The dark, the snow, the unplowed roads, it’s like the universe can’t stop throwing you obstacles. 

“You want the real answer or the nice answer?” He replies. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you growl. 

“Right, I had no other choice.” 

“No other choice?” You repeat. 

“Look, those long-legged beauties back home, they’re fun, but they don’t got much else going on. I needed someone who could play along,” he explains. 

“Play along?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smart so--” 

“I’m smart...” 

“I wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t--” 

“Jeez, wow, Mr. Hansen, thank you so much. You think I’m so smart, so you should know I’m smart enough to know better than to believe you. You think I’m desperate,” you turn slowly onto the next street. “You think I have nothing else going on.” 

“No, that’s not--” he shifts in his seat. 

“It’s exactly what you think,” you huff. “Well, I do. I have a flight in...” you pause and check the time on the dash, “five hours so when we get to the hotel, I’m going to sleep and you’re going to let me. Then I’m going to catch my flight and the curtain can be pulled on this whole theatre.” 

“Your words, not mine. I don’t think you’re desperate.” 

You don’t respond. You’re tired. He just can’t leave things alone. He always has to say something. You wonder if he was truly left to his own thoughts, if his head would combust. 

“I’m actually impressed,” you says, “you held your own.” 

“Sir,” you utter. 

“It was good. Entertaining. I mean, all these years, you never once talked back to me but wow, that was... majestic, really. You didn’t even wait to see my mother’s face. Or my sister’s.” 

“Your family is weird,” you blurt out. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t mean--” 

“I mean, yeah, we probably are but I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” he says. 

You nod. He has a point. Yet, while that horde of entitled brats might explain his personality, it can’t excuse it. 

The hotel’s marquee shines like a beacon as you steer into the lot. You yawn and shut off the engine. You let yourself out and drag your feet around to the trunk. You take out your carry-on as Lloyd hovers at the other side. 

“All of your stuff, out,” you say. “I’m going straight to the airport in the morning. Checkout is ten so as long your gone by then, I don’t care what you do.” 

He’s quiet but he obeys. He takes his bags out and sets them on the ground. He pulls the rolling bag and slings his smallest bag on his shoulder. You snap the trunk shut and turn, shuffling across the icy tarmac. 

You enter through the automatic doors and cross the desolate lobby. You check in with your ID but as you look for your credit card, Lloyd flicks his between his fingers and offers it up to the clerk. 

“It’s on me,” he insists. 

You won’t argue. You really don’t trust him to leave by checkout. As you head for the elevators, he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak until you’re behind the sliding doors of the compartment. 

“You know, I’m still your boss so you can’t just order me around,” he says. 

You glance over at him. “Right, won’t happen again, sir.” 

“It could have been worse, you know? I could’ve actually had you come all the way out here just to drop off some gifts. If you think about it, you got a free dinner and some wine--” 

“Yeah, it was a great time,” you say dryly. “Mr. Hansen, I’m too tired to lie any more. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life so no, I don’t think it could be worse.” 

The doors open and you stride out. You swipe the card at the door corresponding to the number written in the folio and let yourself in. He follows closely, nearly running over your heels with his suitcase. 

You take your bag to the bed and take out the cotton pajamas stuffed inside just for tonight. You bring them with you into the bedroom, doing your best to ignore your guest. Lloyd wanders along the wall and finds his way to the mini fridge. 

You’re in no rush to change, only to get to bed. You trade your dress and stockings for the cotton two-piece and emerge. You shove your bag and clothes beside the night table and slide under the blankets. You pull them up to your shoulders. 

“They got wine, tequila, beer--” 

“I’m going to sleep,” you insist. 

“The alcohol will help.” 

“No, it will make waking up even harder.” 

“After tonight, I think you need a shot.” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you grumble and cover your head. 

“Fine, more for me.” He snickers. 

You’re happy he can’t see the irritation on your face. You might just be better off to let him drink whatever. Eventually, he’ll have to pass out. At least, you can only hope he does. 

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

A slightly slow plot but I prefer it that way, that the obsessed characters appear little by little

Chapter 2

Damian Wayne... he was an enigmatic child for you.

The truth is that you still don't understand how you managed to get along with the boy, his curt, unfriendly and arrogant personality was difficult to deal with, if not impossible.

After his first visit you didn't expect to see him again, his upset face with a curt goodbye was the last thing you expected to see from the boy, not receiving another visit from him a few days later.

You would be lying if you said that your life became more miserable with the child, even with his witty hurtful comments they made you smile, perhaps because you did not take the child's words seriously, because you did not feel familiar with him, or because after being bothered he an adorable scene with your baby that took away his threatening appearance.

You compared him to a chihuahua, those adorable little dogs that tried to look brave and like a big threat, but they were just adorable little creatures.

You also attributed your great attitude towards the child's visits in large part to the fact that you had matured, you were already a responsible adult with a daughter who sweetened your life even more, you became one of those television mothers who was positive, above all, wearing a big smile with an air of friendliness.

“Because you smile like a fool,” the boy commented, annoyed when he saw the attitude his sister was wearing.

You snapped out of your thoughts and paid attention to your surroundings again.

“Ahhh.. it's just that you two look so adorable playing around” you defended yourself.

In a way it was true, seeing the child sitting on a puzzle-style rug that you put together in the living room, playing with some baby toys, with your little daughter, while the little girl tried to play with the child and moved her hands with excitement, It was something that warmed your heart.

You received a displeased grimace from Damian at your words, he stopped paying attention to you and looked back at Alice.

“Hey, don't bother about that, if you keep making faces you'll get old.”

“I'm not the one who should worry about getting old you know” the boy responded, but this time without paying much attention to you.

“Am I getting older, can I tell?” You worried about his words, it was a valid worry, at least for you.

This time you did not receive any attention, neither from the child, nor from your baby, great, now I will exchange you for that bad excuse of a refined child, you noticed his taste for being from a wealthy family, something that you never liked very much, although Having money and having no limit to spend it was fantastic, having many gossip about your life, seeing how luxury and money controlled people, the carelessness of some parents and others who put pressure on their children to make them their perfect puppets, no. It was something very nice.

“Well men still flirt with me, so I guess I shouldn't worry about my appearance until they stop” you joked, you were going to leave aside the fact that you were getting older with each passing day, month and year, forget that Time was still ticking for almost everyone in the world, worrying about it was stupid and a martyrdom, it caused nothing but depressive and anxious feelings.

“Who went and where?” The boy got up from the ground in a hurry and faced you.

Damian got upset when he heard that, dogs trying to seduce you for their dirty desires, he wouldn't allow it, that would affect his little niece, if his niece, it's not that he cared about you, that's clear, although you were kind to him and You treated him like a member of your family, he didn't feel anything for you…. TRUE? You were just a woman who shared blood with him, his sister, he wasn't going to admit it.

“Uggg, you sound like a protective father” you made a disgusted face.

“That your useless husband wasn't taking care of you” he ignored your mockery and continued with his interrogation.

“whaaat?” His words surprised you “Haha, I'm married, I think you hit your head.”

“What about that man who was at your house when I met you?” he asked you again, this time you could see that his calm temperament changed to an aggressive one.

“The man we had dinner with?” Damian nodded “yes that man, Alice's father?”

"Hahaha he's not Alice's father, where did you get that idea from?"

The boy didn't answer you, he just looked at you questioningly, waiting for you to continue talking.

“That man you met was Nick, Alice's godfather,” you explained, “and as for this little girl's father, he is not part of our lives.”

.

Thanksgiving was a very lively date in your home, your friends visited your house and had a delicious dinner, it was one of those days where the whole house became full of life and there was laughter in every corner, there were small arguments, but They all revolved around who gained little Alice's favor. Although she reacted well to Damian's company, she was not the same with your friends. It means that the little baby develops a demanding side with the people around her except for her family.

Today your younger brother did not attend the party, even though you invited him, it was something you expected, unfortunately, he had a family to celebrate with, his father and brothers, you assume, in his conversations he never mentioned his mother, so you assume that she It was not listed in its current home.

The surprise was pleasant, when you found the child visiting you in the early morning of the new day, although you wanted to sleep, seeing the child visiting you so late at your invitation, you suppose, warmed your heart and you accepted that the child came in. your house.

The nagging doubt of how it was possible for him to come from so far away in the middle of the night unaccompanied to your house was in your head, naaa... you would let him get away with it, he is not your son after all, and knowing the story familiar, Damian is also supposed to play superheroes like the others.

You watched as Damián devoured the food left over from the party, for some reason he decided to go out to the balcony of the house to eat and you followed him so as not to leave him alone. Yes, you were saying goodbye to the food you planned to eat the following week. At least you could save breakfast by reheating the little leftovers.

“You know you look like dad” you said looking at the child, maybe it was the dream or the silent atmosphere, between you and the child, but seeing him made you a little nostalgic.

It's funny, because even though that man never did a well-deserved action to receive such a title, you still called him your father, you hated yourself for that, you wanted to stop being stuck in a place where you were still deep inside yourself expecting something from your paternal family.

Dad... oh dad, why did you never give me such an opportunity to call you that, that man, even without effort or interest in your life, took an undeserved title.

You realized that the boy had stopped eating, to pay attention to you and your words. He didn't say anything which is a surprise, given his defensive attitude every time they spoke.

“Don't look at me like that, it's true... you look like him in many ways” you looked Damián in the eyes, you were lying with your head on the bars of the balcony without wanting to move it, with a face empty of emotions.

“I remember seeing him eat just the way you do, I never forget it, him eating with a stoic face and an air of superiority surrounding him, as if he were royalty” you did not move your eyes, always on a fixed point, observing the child who He was the exact copy of the first man who broke your heart “They are the same when eating, even if you don't believe it.”

Do you remember well when you would sneak out of your room or the kitchen where you spent your time with Alfred, just to see your father for a moment, there was something that stopped you from facing the man, sometimes he looked very tired, he was talking on the phone or someone She accompanied him at his dinner, like the women who visited the mansion with Bruce and stayed the night with him.

“Your appearance also reveals you as his son, after all you are his spitting image” you finished your ramblings, you looked away from the boy, it was better not to say anything else to him, you didn't want to bother him anymore, if he took your words the wrong way. You blame your lack of sleep for causing an impending disaster.

You'd better concentrate on observing the dark landscape full of lights that the balcony offers.

“You look like Bruce too,” Damian comments as he composes himself after being surprised by your words.

"..." You were left speechless by his sentence, how come you two looked alike and never noticed it? They had to change what made them similar to their father or treasure it with all their hearts.

You waited to hear the boy as you climbed onto the bars of the balcony and sat down, needing to clear your mind of the next words that would come out of the boy's mouth.

“You and Bruce… you are not careful in your romantic adventures and you end up with unexpected children,” he said without mincing words.

“Ahhh how embarrassing you don't say that” you tried to hide your face from the child's sight, you didn't expect him to digest something similar.

You laughed a little at what he said, in a way it was true, you didn't see it, but Damián also smiled when he saw your reaction and your smile, you didn't get angry or say anything bad against him because of his words.

He followed your steps and also sat on the bars of the balcony.

Although the adrenaline surged through your body from hanging at a high altitude above the ground, you left your worries behind and enjoyed the moment. You still kept your hands on the bars, to avoid incidents.

“Yeah, I'm sorry if what sounded bad before, the truth is that seeing you here makes me happy, I've never done something like that with dad and seeing you doesn't… wakes up emotions in me” you apologized, although the words you said were unintentional. you threw at him, you know very well that they had a bit of resentment in them.

“You are... you are the family I never had.”

Oh how stupid you were to say that, if only you knew that that closed your destiny, if you knew that by saying that, the boy whom you just started to consider a brother would see you as a valuable person in his life that he would not have the luxury of losing. , using methods at any cost to have his sister and niece by his side.

.

In another place very far from your house and the family scene you had.

Another great scene broke out, all because the "eldest" of the Wayne children went to look for his younger brother after their family dinner, but when he got to his room he noticed his absence.

This worried him, even more so knowing that he wasn't even sneaking around the city in his vigilante form.

Where had the little demon of the family gone? He scanned the boy's room, trying to find a clue to his whereabouts.

Even though he meticulously searched the entire large room, he found nothing, and about to give up, a book caught his attention.

An art book, it was rare that Damian left something visible, Dick took the moment to review his brother's art, upon seeing his few projects before he noticed that he had great talent.

He scanned the pages slowly, capturing every detail of the drawings and paintings, his brother was undoubtedly talented, but there was something, some leaves in particular, that stopped him from thinking about them.

A woman was drawn on it, a woman that he vaguely remembered, she was very familiar, but no matter how much he searched his memory he couldn't remember who she was.

When he was finally able to change the page, he noticed that all the other pages contained more drawings of the woman, or of a baby.

He took a photo of the drawings, something told him that this woman was important, he had to remember who she was.

It's time to add more characters, the good thing is that we already have a yandere.

Reader never specified that it was the paternal family that she never had, because although with Damian now they are more like brothers, she had her friends and her mother as family, may she rest in peace.

tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog

[fizzy-blood]

Okay but how would the creeps react to a like feral s/o (biting scratching growling barking meowing) the whole nine yards?

(sfw and nsfw plz)

Creeps with a Feral!S/O🦷🥩

Hi! I didn't really know which creeps you wanted me to write so I just wrote for all the characters I've written for before (not Ben though because I don't write smut for him and not Tim/Masky bc MH and Creepypasta are different) I also wrote for Jane bc I love her and I just want to start writing things for her ^_^ (also Fem!S/O for Jane but the rest are Gn!S/O)

WARNING:18+/NSFW content ahead!! If you are a minor and want to read the SFW content then go ahead but please do not read through the NSFW headcanons. I know I can't stop you but please-

[Biting, scratching, bondage, I think that's all?]

Ticci Toby🪓🌲

(SFW)

HE'S GONNA MATCH YOUR FREAK /hj

But seriously, he really won't mind how you act...

Actually least likely to get upset with you over it!

He can't feel pain so biting and scratching is fine with him (he thinks it's cute when you bite him and will probably bite you back)

And with any weird sounds like hissing or barking or meowing.. Whatever you do... He's fine with it.. (Unless he's overstimulated, he won't be able to handle it so... 😞)

He might end up with those sounds as some form of tic... (That's actually kinda cute wait-)

Overall I'd give it an 8/10.

(NSFW)

REMEMBER HOW I SAID HE LIKES BITING AND SCRATCHING YOU??

PLEASE DO THE SAME TO HIM. DO IT.

He likes it when you leave marks on his body..

Actually... Likes is an understatement...

HE NEEDS YOU DO BITE HIM.

It's actually kinda cute how pathetic it is

I also feel like he'd be more submissive with someone more feral... Have fun!!

Eyeless Jack🫘🩻

(SFW)

Finds it a bit odd at first but gets used to it after a while..

But please give him a heads up before you bite him, he doesn't like it when you do it out of nowhere..

But he does find it cute when you make weird sounds (just please don't be too loud)

Probably won't bite you back if you're human.. But if you're some sort of creature? Probably will...

Like... 7/10? It has its ups and downs but it's still nice 🥰

(NSFW)

NGH- I WANT HIM...

OMG WHO SAID THAT⁉️

But if you being feral makes you bratty with him? He'll get you to shut up soon...

He'll also probably cover your mouth (if you try to bite his hand he'll just ignore it)

But if he doesn't ignore it he'll probably just briefly mention it.

Just kinda... Makes you go mindless (BTW I'M GONNA RE-WRITE MY GENERAL NSFW HEADCANONS FOR HIM AT SOME POINT SO-)

Laughing Jack🍬🎪

(SFW)

I think he'd actually be good at dealing with any bullshit-

Like... He does get bothered sometimes but he does know how to entertain you so you stop what you're doing..

Also if you bark at him he'll just bark back.

It's just normal to him??

I dunno man, the way he acts is just odd in general so 🤷‍♂️

Anyways... 8/10. Actually knows how to deal with everything pretty effectively and is fine with you biting or scratching him up (it really doesn't do anything to him, not even leaving a mark)

(NSFW)

My LJ doesn't really feel sexual attraction and I doubt he feels any sexual desires (he doesn't even have a dick so...)

I dunno what to write about this.. Like.. He's fine with sex if you want it but it wouldn't be much different from my normal NSFW headcanons for him..

Jeff the Killer🔪🩸

(SFW)

You know how middle school boys bark at people? He does that to you.

Is it meant to be affectionate? Who knows... But he does it if you meow or bark at him.

He just thinks it's weird tbh.

He also pushes you off of him or away from him if you try to bite him.

You hiss every time and he just makes fun of you for it (that part is sorta meant to be lovingly but it can come across as just plain mean).

6/10 in my opinion!

(NSFW)

He actually likes it when you bite or scratch him during sex?

I think he might have that masochistic sadist mix in him (HE GOT THAT DAWG IN HIM‼️🗣️💥💥/j)

But go crazy! He's fine with it during this time so feel free to do whatever.

Nina the Killer🔪💖

(SFW)

She thinks it's really funny, also kinda cute!

She isn't a huge fan of the scratching though...

Biting is fine but please give her a heads up (like with EJ)

She does really like the meowing and barking, also finds the hissing to be funny most of the time!

But the hissing can also tell her if she's aggravating you (she sucks with boundaries, please be patient with her😣)

ALSO IF YOU LIKE BEING PET SHE'D PROBABLY DO THAT WHILE YOU SLEEP SO-

Mmmmm.... 8.5/10

(NSFW)

I actually don't have a lot of NSFW related headcanons for her in general so... Oops?

I'll probably come back and post some general headcanons when I'm done but... Idk🤷‍♂️

But.... I think she'd be really sweet and loving, like?

The thing with the petting, she'd do that to keep you calm during sex (AGAIN, WHY IS THAT ACTUALLY ADORABLE TO ME??)

I'll get back to you when I figure out more stuff.

Jane the Killer🔪🖤

(SFW)

She found it so annoying when you first met, but she's just used to it now... She actually kinda finds it endearing now!

Specific things like more soft meowing or just generally softer and quieter sounds-

(It makes her experience cuteness aggression)

She doesn't really like scratching or biting in any context so...

But she'd probably find something for you to chew on or maybe make you some sort of scratching post.

Sometimes she feels like you're just a big fucking cat... (She's a cat person so it doesn't bother her that much)

9/10 (I want to be held by her)

(NSFW)

She puts a gag in your mouth and will probably tie you up... This is probably so you won't scratch or bite her-

(But let's be real here... You both kinda got a bit too into it)

Like Nina, she's normally pretty sweet and is also normally very gentle...

But other days?... I'll just say that she gets kinda... Intense? I'll probably go more in depth in a separate post but you get the general idea (I think)

BUT MMM

She's good at making sure you don't slip out of your restraints... very good.

DONE! YAY! YIPPEE! I hope you enjoyed this and I hope this is what you asked for? If you want more of this feel free to send another ask with some different characters or even just ask for more stuff with a character I already wrote for. My ask box is open so feel free to send some requests if you want! Again, I hope you enjoyed it!

-Fizz

(Cryptidcore dividers are by @sister-lucifer)

[fayes-fics]

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[elinoracia]

⁑ They see you cry for the first time// Hogwarts legacy characters reactions x reader ⁑

~ Hogwarts Legacy headcanons ~

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, use of Y/N, mention of death and blood, swearing (censored), Leander jumpscare. Pairings: Sebastian x reader, Ominis x reader, Garreth x reader, Amit x reader, Poppy x reader, Natty x reader, Imelda x reader, Leander x reader.

Feel free to request anything!

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

Context: Even after Professor Fig's death, even under great pressure and no matter the situation, you never let your friends saw you crack. Not even a single tear. You were trying really hard to hide your pain and sadness. But it had to come out one day... After fighting against some poachers with your companion, they almost killed him/her. After you saved him/her, you finally broke down. You thought you lost him/her too. You couldn't control your tears. (Pre-relationship)

THEIR REACTION :

Sebastian:

He gets up and dusts himself off without noticing how devasted you were at first.

"It seems like I'm the one who's in your debt now. I owe you- Y/N? Are you crying?"

He almost runs to you the moment he notices.

"What is wrong? Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Tell me!"

He is extremely worried. He doesn't know why you're crying. When you explain to him you were really afraid of losing him like you lost so many people in your life, he got really quiet for a moment.

"You'll never lose me. We're a team, the best team even. If we stick together and protect eachother, nothing could ever happen to one of us. Besides, I am an excellent duellist!... Look at me Y/N..."

He lifts your chin up to make you meet his gaze. You could see how concerned he was. He wipes away some of your tears with his fingers.

"I'll be the one protecting you next time." You could feel he wasn't only talking about duels or battles...

He is not really good with words so he will go out of his way to try to cheer you up for the rest of the day. He will pick little flowers for you and bring you sweets.

"I'm not great with words but I surely can listen! Please come to me if you want to talk..or if you need a big bear hug! I'm also good with those."

Would hug you very tightly for as long as you need.

Ominis:

He will notice almost immediately when you start crying. He felt your breath pattern change and he heard you slightly sniffle.

"Y/N, may I ask what's troubling you? It's very unlike you to be this upset. I'm worried. Are you hurt perhaps?"

You then explain how scared you were. You feel like you almost lost him too.

He stays silent. He goes to reach for your hand and holds it.

He usually never lets anyone holds his hand because he doesn't feel like he is in need of any guidance and doesn't think it is ever necessary. But he is making an exception to comfort you.

"I appologize for making you worry that much about my safety. But I am still here...thanks to you."

You both make it back to Howarts and he refuses to let go of your hand.

"As you may already know, I am a great listener. I am always available if you feel the need to talk about anything."

"Your safety is also truly important to me. I just want to make sure you do not feel like what happened to you or anyone is your fault."

He really wants to make sure you're feeling better before letting your hand go.

He doesn't care if people can see him holding your hand. All that matters at this moment is you.

"Take your time Y/N. I'll stay for as long as you need me to."

Garreth:

He is very oblivious about the situation. You turn your head to not face him so he couldn't see your tears. But you feel your shoulders shake.

When he notices how your demeanor changed, he just wonders if you were tired or maybe hurt.

"Y/N? Are you alright? I have some Wiggenweld potions if you need any. I even brew them myself."

You try to explain to him how you felt. You couldn't contain your tears. Those poachers almost killed him in front of your eyes... You see his eyes widen.

"Y/N...Please don't cry. I'm fine, look! Please... I hate when I can't see your pretty smile."

He will almost instantly take you in his arms and give you a hug. He will also gently carress your head as he tries to make you smile or laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you usually always laugh at that joke! Smile for your best bud...please."

He will not leave you alone until you feel better.

"Trust me, I think you might need some of that famous Gryffindor courage, chivalry, and determination to make you feel better! You're in luck, I have all of the above!"

He will not leave you for the rest of the day. And if anyone tries to talk to you, he will tell them you need to rest. He wouldn't want you to feel too overwhelmed.

"There it is! There is your pretty smile. Do you feel a bit better now?"

Amit:

After the battle against the poachers, his first instinct will be to check on you, even he was the one who almost died. He'll quickly notice you feel upset.

"Y/N what is wrong? Please don't cry...I'm here for you."

You explained how unbearable the thought of almost losing him too was. You explained how much it breaks you.

"I-I'm sorry...I didn't know how much that impacted you. I should have known. But I'm here for you now. Don't be ashamed to cry in front of me. I'm here..."

As you're crying, he gently rubs your back and hands you his handkerchief. He stays next to you until you finish crying. Then he will talk to you for a while.

"I hope you know you don't have to hide your emotions from me anymore. I still think you're incredibly strong. You're so wonderful Y/N, truly."

He'll almost force you to go get some rest for the rest of the day.

"Please, let me bring you back to your dorms. You need to rest. I'll warn your teachers about your absence, they'll understand. I'll give you the notes I took during class, I insist on that."

He'll walk you back to your dorms like the gentleman he is. He'll make sure you don't have to worry about anything else for the rest of the day.

He will bring some food to you so you don't forget to eat. It's not just an excuse to come to see you and check on you, not at all really

He will try to be more careful about what he does. He doesn't want to worry you.

Poppy:

She almost cries first. The situation really shook her. But when she notices you crying, she focuses all her attention on you.

"Y/N! Please tell me you're not hurt! I'm here, I'm okay, you're okay. Take a deep breath."

You try explaining to her through your heavy sobs how afraid you were to lose her too.

"Don't be silly, I'll always be right next to you, no matter how annoying it can be. They can't possibly get rid of me that easily when you're with me Y/N. That's what makes you such an amazing person... You're always so selfless."

She takes you in her arms. Nobody can possibly make her let go of you.

"I'm so sorry you went through all of that... but you will never lose me."

She makes you take deep breaths and do breathing exercises until you calm down a little.

"Do you feel better? Do you need me to bring you something? Water? Food? Anything? Let me go get that for you!"

You could ask her for anything and she'll RUN to get them for you.

"Don't worry, it's okay to cry. Sometimes I cry too! It doesn't make you weak or anything of the sort! Your tears mean you feel deeply and that's a good thing!"

She'll make sure that you're not alone, not a single second, for the rest of the day. She has to make sure you feel supported.

Natty:

She is very attentive to what is happening around her. So it doesn't take her long to notice your muffled sobs you were trying to hide.

"Y/N, what's wrong? I'm here with you, you can tell me about it."

She tries to stay very calm. She wouldn't want to stress you out more than you already are.

As you explain to her how you felt about losing her too and the fear of her being killed, you can notice how concerned she looks. She sadly knows that feeling all too well.

"I want to support you in any way you need. You are not alone. I...I know how you feel."

She'll make you sit next to her. She will let you cry it out while she hold your hand and softly rubs it with her thumb.

"This is really hard for you, I understand. I will help you work it out. I'll never leave you Y/N. You'll never lose me, I hope you know that."

She'll hand you tissues as she listens to you attentively.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I would do anything to help you feel better."

She is ready to do anything you want. It really hurts her to see you go through what she went through.

Following this incident, you can be sure she will regularly check on you.

Imelda:

She is panting as she tries to get up. She is just glad she didn't die. It was a close-call. When she turns to look at you, she is surprised to see you so upset.

"Y/N? Why are you crying? We won! You beat them all! It could be so much worse, I almost died."

You explain how the though of losing her the way you lost so many people scares you. Your tears are flowing on your cheeks.

"I'm not...that big of a deal. If I knew you were going to cry over me, I would have been more careful... Please...Y/N..."

She slowly pats your back, not really knowing what to do or what to say.

"Hey Y/N, it's okay, I'm still here. And even if one day I die, I'm sure you'll figure out something crazy like usual and resurrect me or something like that. You're that powerful, I'm sure of it. But let's not think about it just yet!"

She usually would NEVER hug anyone but she'll hug you if you ask her. She will complain but she'll still do it for you.

"Hugh! So needy! Just don't hold me too tight, I can't escape death twice in a row. There there, I'm here."

Deep down she enjoys being the one you're worried about. She would never admit it though.

"Don't tell anyone we hugged or I'll never hug you again."

Leander:

He only thinks about himself at first. He almost died and couldn't believe he was still here.

"Holy sh*t you saved me! Y/N... it was crazy. I-... Are you crying?"

You tell him how afraid you were about losing him too. You couldn't bear the thought of him dying.

"Oh...I- hum..."

He doesn't have a single clue how to comfort you. He is very ankward and clumsy with his words. He means well though.

He's the kind of person to not think before he talks.

"Y/N...look at me. I...hum...your tears are beautiful...S-Sorry I just blurt out random things when I'm nervous. But I'm here..."

He'll ankwardly hug you and pat your head.

"It's alright Y/N...Do you want my scarf? You're always begging me to give it to you so you can wear it. Here, take it."

He gives you his scarf you puts it around your neck. It feels strangely comforting.

"You can wipe your tears with it if you want. It's yours now. Red suits you much better anyway."

You burry your face in his chest and hug him tighter.

"I hope it's not just an excuse because you don't need to do that if you really needed a hug from me that bad. I'll hug you everyday if you insist."

In a weird way, his teasing makes you feel a bit better.

[tealvenetianmask]

Hell's Belles and who Millie is in her relationships:

Hell’s Belles is light and cute, and the reaction I saw the most was people getting all heart-eyed over Sallie Mae, and she deserved all the love. But I think the short also gives us some real insights into Millie that people tend to overlook. And I think that’s relevant with Ghostfuckers coming up, where presumably (hopefully!) we'll learn more about her internal world and her friendship with Blitz. 

So what new information did we learn about our girl?

For one thing, it's clear that Millie and Sallie Mae are very close in age and their brothers are significantly younger. 

They ran things around the farm together and hung out all the time, probably throughout their childhoods. But I also have a hunch that Millie is the oldest- it’s just a hunch- no proof.

I think it’s because Sallie is so shaken up by her absence . . .

And also because of what we know about Millie's relationship with Moxxie. During most of the M&M centric arcs, she plays a supportive or protective role, rescuing her husband when he's in danger, comforting him when he's upset, and yes, giving him a reality check when he needs it.

In Unhappy Campers, we see that Millie believes her needs (to be supported in turn and celebrated for being her fantastic self) are neglected. A lot of youtube reactors were surprised, but I think it makes perfect sense.

This is a character with "eldest daughter syndrome," which means that she was raised to take on responsibility for others. She instinctively puts herself second and rarely thinks about it, until she realizes that her own needs are being neglected.

I think that even if Millie is the second-oldest, this still stands- I think she was the caretaker sibling, the most supportive, empathetic, and self-assured one. This is a good thing. Maybe she supported Sallie Mae through her transition. Maybe she made sure that the younger kids were taken care of and that all of the work around the farm was complete. I picture her doing all of this with the enthusiasm and joy that she brings to . . . you know . . . slaughtering dozens of enemies in one go.

I think we're seeing growth in Millie with regard to prioritizing her own needs in her relationships, even if a lot of that growth is happening in the background. In Hell's Belles, she tells Sallie Mae that their relationship is a priority without taking on all of the responsibility for that relationship herself.

So . . . we don't know much about how the friendship between Millie and Blitz started, but here's what I think based on what we know about their characters individually and the interactions we've seen.

Millie is super easygoing around Blitz and pretty tolerant of his quirky *cough- super invasive* behavior. She even plays into/encourages his sillier antics pretty often, and just generally seems to trust him as a leader/friend, and he admires her work in turn.

I think there's more to it. I think she's seen Blitz in some really dark places- did they meet in their early assassin days? Like, when Blitz was right out of his relationship with Verosika and reinventing himself?

I think that from what we know about the role Millie plays in her relationships, she was probably supportive at a time when Blitz really needed someone to be. (As for how this works with the timeline of when they each met Moxxie, maybe we'll find out!)

Anyway, I'm excited for Ghostfuckers and wish it weren't so far away. I like that it looks like there'll be some focus on Millie, and I hope we see her strengths on display (because that's always great) but also see some more of her depth. I don't think it's bad at all for her to be a caretaking/supportive friend, sister, and partner. But I guess my main message is- even though those are great things about her, she's more than that, so let's not overlook this awesome lady.