#i really do need to put aside some time to JUST write out a solid backstory for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wafflefries13 · 6 months ago

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Rose With(out) Thorns (Riddle x Reader)

Summary: Riddle needs help putting off his mother's plans to set him up for an engagement, so what better way than to fake date NRC's favorite magicless prefect? Things can only go well. (No, they can't.)

AN: Fake dating, yay! Had the idea for this a long while back, finally got around to writing it. And, like most of my fics I'm finding out, it kind of got away from me. I hope at some point, probably some time in book 7 here, we finally get a confrontation with Riddle's mom. I hate Riddle's mom, all the cool bitches I know hate Riddle's mom.

Warnings: Depictions of a toxic family environment, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

When Riddle had pulled (Y/N) aside after classes, she didn’t expect to be sitting in one of Heartstabuyl’s tea rooms, a cooling cup of herbal tea placed in front of her. (Y/N) sipped the tea, observing Riddle. His mouth was pulled into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed in determined concentration. His hands were clasped behind him and he was pacing so much (Y/N) was worried about him wearing a hole in the rug. It had almost seemed like he had forgotten she was there.

“Riddle?” She prompted gently.

Riddle jumped, startled. (Y/N) really did think he had forgotten about her. His face turned pink, blushing up to his ears. He cleared his throat, promptly sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” He said, swirling a spoonful of honey into his tea. She tried to not take it personally that he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Something going on with Ace and Deuce?” She asked, jumping to the most logical conclusion. “I don’t mind meditating.”

“No, thankfully, both of them have actually been rather pleasant as of late. This is of a more… personal nature.”

“Oh? Are you doing okay?” She set her cup down, leaning forward.

His blush went from gentle pink to strawberry red. “I - ahem, yes, no, I’m fine, it’s not that I don’t - what I mean to say is, ah, well…” Deciding there was no elegant way to put it, Riddle’s shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly into his tea. “It’s my mother.”

(Y/N) immediately tensed. “Oh.”

The last time (Y/N) had thought about Riddle’s mother was when he was about to leave for winter break. She remembered how quiet he had been, not even bothering to reprimand the excited first years running around the mirror chamber like excited kids. (Y/N) had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch his phone from his dazed hands and entered her number.

“In case you need anything,” She had said. “Or, you know, you just miss me too much and want to say hi.”

He really did blush way too easily.

Of course, any plans for talking on the phone were quickly eliminated by the events at Scarabia. When (Y/N) finally did get her phone back, she found a couple of missed calls and overly formal texts from Riddle’s number, buried in between the frantic messages from Ace and Deuce responding to her SOS.

Back in the tea room, (Y/N) set her cup down, leaning forward to meet Riddle’s eyes. “Hey,” She said gently. “You know if I can do anything for you I will.”

“It’s not that easy,” He said. “My mother asked me to come home for the long weekend coming up. And I highly suspect she wants me there to… try and arrange a match.”

“A match? Wait, like getting engaged? Aren’t you kind of young for that?”

Riddle shrugged. “It would definitely be a long engagement, but it’s not uncommon to have a match set up years in advance, especially between prominent families like mine.”

“How very Jane Austen.”

“Sorry?”

“An author from my world, she wrote romances. Anyway, sorry, keep going.”

“Well, I agree that it seems soon. To be fair, Mother was trying to set something up before I came to Night Raven College as well. Being accepted to such a prestigious magic school only elevated my prospects, as she put it. She wants to establish a solid match with another high ranking family, setting my future in stone. Especially after everything that happened at the beginning of the year.” They were both quiet for a moment, fighting off memories of Riddle’s Overblot. “I…” Riddle continued. “I don’t think anyone back home knows.”

“Oh. Well, it’s like personal medical information, right? Even if it’s magical or whatever it’s still your mental health. You don’t owe anyone that.”

“I don’t think that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. I know it might be hard for you to believe after everything that’s happened this year, but Overblots are still considered rare. Not many survive the process. And those that do, well, they aren’t looked upon as kindly as you’ve looked upon us.”

(Y/N) set her cup down hard. “That’s not fair! It’s not some moral failing. You and everyone else were - are - dealing with really tough emotions! It’s not right to just ignore trauma and your feelings, that’s what led to everything happening in the first place!”

“I’m glad you see it that way. And, if I’m being honest, public perception of the emotional stress that can lead to an Overblot and those who make it through the process are gradually being seen with more sympathy. Like you said, it’s a mental health issue at the core. But older communities like the one I grew up in are slower to accept new social views.”

(Y/N) sat back. “I’m sorry, Riddle. That sounds really hard.”

“Thank you,” Riddle breathed. He cleared his throat. “Well, that sort of awkwardly leads to what I was wanting to ask you in the first place.” He cleared his throat again, nervously looking around the room. Finally, steadying himself, he forced himself to meet (Y/N) eyes. “I would like you to come with me and act as my partner.”

(Y/N) felt her head go light and heart jump. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Riddle’s confidence cracked as he looked away again. “In so many words, yes.”

“Wow. Forget Jane Austen, this is more Meg Ryan territory.” Riddle blinked. “Never mind, forget it. I mean, not what you’re talking about, just, it’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“It’s not the most conventional request, to be fair. But I’ve turned this over in my head for days and I can’t see any way out of it. My plan is to show I’m taken, dissuade the marriage market. It will be one less thing for Mother to hold over my head. I’ll probably have to deal with it eventually when I graduate but I don’t even want to consider getting engaged right now, for economic, political, or whatever other reason. I’ve never been overly fond of the prospects my mother has introduced anyway. Not that I want to pressure you or anything! I completely understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable for any reason and I completely respect your decision-”

“Well, hey, don’t answer for me, now.” (Y/N) reached forward and touched the back of Riddle’s hand, jolting him out of the spiral he was throwing himself in. He jumped at the contact. “It’s unorthodox, but since when has anything here been orthodox? Of course I’ll help, Riddle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be very good at it, but I’ll do my best.”

Riddle blinked at her for a moment, registering her words, then the tension practically floated off his shoulders. “That’s - that’s great, thank you.”

“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, this will make a great story to tell the guys later.”

Riddle scowled, blushing again. “Don’t.”

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) and Riddle stood in the mirror chamber. They had come up with a cover to tell everyone while they were gone. Since (Y/N) technically didn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, not having any government papers or even a birth certificate, Riddle suggested they visit Dinah, the capital city of the Queendom of Roses and his home city, to petition at an official government building for temporary citizenship. It was really only a half truth. If they had time between the deception, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try.

Grim was staying at Heartstabuyl with Ace and Deuce, although it would be more accurate to say with Trey, since he was clearly the one in charge while the House Warden was away.

“And make sure to do that reading for History of Magic,” (Y/N) was saying, fiddling with Grim’s bow and magestone. “I marked the pages and put highlight tabs on the parts you need to take notes on. And don’t eat too many sweets, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache again. And don’t stay up too late or else you won’t have the energy to do anything during the day and you’ll throw off your whole sleep schedule. And-”

“Mrow!” Grim cried, batting her hands away. “I get it, I get it! I’m not a little kid, you know!”

(Y/N) smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. “Of course I know. You’re a big full grown dire beast who doesn't need anyone to take care of you. Why, I bet when I come back you won’t need me to cook for you anymore or make sure you wake up on time. You probably don’t even want a souvenir!”

“No, no! I like your cooking! And you better bring me something back, henchhuman!”

“Of course, Grim.”

Like a parent sending their child to school for the first time, (Y/N) and Grim detangled themselves from each other. Grim floated back with Ace and Deuce, who also required promises of souvenirs, and gave a final wave. (Y/N) waved back before stepping through the mirror portal after Riddle, luggage in hand.

There was always a strange feeling when going through the mirror, far spaces being squished together in a more convenient and transversable state. If (Y/N) hadn’t already been dragged underwater to swim through the depths unbothered, she would have compared it to being surrounded by water. Instead, she would more closely compare it the moments after a fall or jump, when totally suspended in the air with no tether. A slight jolt of the stomach at first, a feeling of weightlessness, a rush of cold along the spine, and then they were there.

(Y/N) still wasn’t completely sure how the mirror portal worked, or how it chose where to deposit someone, considering there wasn’t always a mirror on the other end. She knew it had something to do with the magestones NRC students wore on their armband, and that it helped to leave and come back from the same place, but other than that it was just another magic mystery she didn’t want to think too hard about.

(Y/N) shook her head as she stepped from the portal back on solid ground. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as she blinked and looked around. (Y/N)’s first impression of Dinah was a memory of a picturesque depiction of Victorian London. The street in front of them was wide, paved in even brick. There were store fronts painted in bright warm colors with big display windows, buildings stacked high with higher chimneys on top. Men and women strolled along the street, seemingly dressed to the nines for a perfectly ordinary outing, with top hats and long coats, bustled dresses in fanciful colors and feather hats.

A pair of horses pulled a dark blue omnibus carriage down the street, hooves making a pleasant ‘clip-clop’ sound as they meandered. It made (Y/N) wonder about the technological advancements of Twisted Wonderland, not for the first time. She had remembered how surprised she had been to see that cars existed in Sunrise City, when previously the only methods of transportation she had seen had been brooms, ghostly carriages, boats, and mirror portals. She frowned at the memory of Leona teasing her about her surprise.

“We have our own carriage,” Riddle told her, mistaking her expression as she watched the omnibus. “Mother sent it to collect us. It should be here - ah, there.” Riddle lifted his hand in greeting to the approaching carriage.

A white horse pulled a ruby carriage with a stenciled rose against a six-pointed starburst emblazoned on the doors. There were two men in stately red velvet livery on the carriage, one at the front, flicking the reins and lazily holding a horse whip, and the other holding on the back above the wheels. As they pulled along the sidewalk, the driver nodded and the footman jumped down to formally bow. He lugged their luggage atop the carriage, a barely noticeable judgmental sneer pulling at his mouth as he handled (Y/N)’s. While Riddle’s bag was neat and new, as beautiful as it was practical, (Y/N) had foraged hers from somewhere deep in the depths of Ramshackle dorm, among the abandoned rooms and chests and closets with all manner of ragged treasures. The carriage rocked as they climbed in, sitting on soft overstuffed bench seats facing each other. Riddle knocked against the roof when they were settled and the carriage rumbled forward.

(Y/N) stared out the window, marveling at everything they passed. “Hey, how far is Trey’s family bakery from here?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh, not far, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to go by. I’m not sure Mother would approve of it.”

(Y/N) turned back to Riddle, noticing how he gazed out the window without really seeing anything. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knee jittering with nerves.

She reached a hand forward and touched his jumping knee, causing him to startle. “Hey,” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You got me here with you, right? And-” She rummaged through the pocket on her NRC uniform, the most formal attire she had for making a good impression. She pulled out a small Moleskine notebook, proudly displaying it. “I’ve been taking notes! I have a bunch of the Queen of Heart’s rules here. I don’t have nearly as many memorized as you do but I figured a cheat sheet wouldn’t hurt.”

Riddle looked at the notebook for a second before smiling in relief. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host so far, have I? Especially considering what you’re doing for me.”

(Y/N) switched sides, landing heavily next to Riddle as the carriage went over a bump. She lightly knocked his arm with the back of her fist. “I told you it’s fine. I’m happy to help out. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uptight before, and that’s saying something.”

Riddle frowned. “I’m not uptight.”

“Sure you’re not, teapot tyrant.” Riddle huffed and turned away. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, are you doing okay?”

Riddle fiddled with his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “The last time I came home, over winter break, my mother and I… well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly. An argument. That just so happened to lead to raised voices. And some harsh words. And maybe some things that are hard to take back.”

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what to say to that. She sat back, focusing on the rumbling of the carriage beneath her. She noticed Riddle fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails. She slid her hand into his, holding it tight between them. She stared straight ahead, ignoring Riddle’s look of shock, no matter how cute his rising blush made him look. She squeezed his hand once, looking out her window. Riddle watched her face in profile, feeling the warmth of her hand in his, their shoulders occasionally bumping each other with the rocking of the carriage. He turned back to his own window, squeezing back.

A short while later, the carriage pulled in front of an elaborate townhouse. It had a beautiful red brick facade with white trimming around the windows and door. Ivy climbed elegantly up one side of the building There was a waist high black wrought iron fence around the perimeter, and the small yard in front was studded with blooming red rose bushes with butterflies elegantly flitting from flower to flower. And, while it was undoubtedly beautiful and picture perfect, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a little put off by the whole image. It seemed too perfect, not a blade of grass out of place or a bruised petal. Even the butterflies felt like they were on a preapproved flight path. Despite the fresh air outside, it was stifling.

As the footman on the carriage unloaded their bags, (Y/N) made a move to pick hers up, only for a valet to swoop in and effortlessly scoop up both bags. He turned and marched back through a door that seemed to shimmer out of nowhere, disappearing behind the ivy when he went through it.

“A servant’s entrance,” Riddle told her. “There are several through the house. It helps keep everyone separated.”

“I could have gotten my stuff,” She said. “It’s heavy.”

“You’re a guest. It would be impolite to expect you to carry your own things.”

A man in a crisp black suit with a gold pocket watch dangling from the front breast pocket opened the door, bowing low with a hand on his chest. “Welcome back, Master Riddle.” He said. The man looked up, sweeping a quick but appraising look over (Y/N). “And this is Miss (Y/N)?”

“Yes, hello!” (Y/N) greeted, smiling brightly. She walked forward, taking hold of the man’s hand and with both of hers and shaking it. She missed the choking gasp Riddle let out behind her. “Just (Y/N) is fine. It’s so nice to meet you! This is a lovely home. I’ve never been to Dinah before, everything is so beautiful! I’ve only been to the Queendom of Roses once before, in this place called Clocktown for a festival, but it’s so much different here.”

The butler nearly reared back at her greeting, going stiff as a board, but too polite to all together flinch and snatch his hand back. He merely retracted his hand, looked once at Riddle, then gazed straight ahead impassively. “Yes, well, welcome to the Rosehearts townhome. I hope you… enjoy your stay, Miss (Y/N).”

(Y/N), determined to push through the awkwardness she could sense building, replied chipperly, “Thanks!” And strode inside without looking back.

“Thank you, Edgar,” Riddle said as the butter closed the door behind them. “Do you know when Mother and Father will be home?”

“Dr. Rosehearts was called in for a last minute surgery and I believe Mr. Rosehearts is at his club. They both planned to be home for dinner to meet you and your… guest.”

The only way (Y/N) could think to describe the townhouse was grand. A grand sweeping staircase to the second floor, marble flooring of black and white checkered tile, two rooms on either side of the entrance hall stuffed with comfortable furniture with lace, one room farther to the back half-hidden behind the staircase, and decorative oil paintings.

“Wow,” She said. “This is where you grew up?”

“Partially, yes,” Riddle said. “We have a country estate as well, but the hospital is in town and Mother always wanted to be present for the social season.”

“Ooh, a country estate and the social season. Look at you, sounding all fancy.”

“Well, excuse me for being raised in polite society, unlike some people.”

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed, playfully shoving him as he grinned back.

Riddle’s eyes cut back to Edgar the butler, watching the two of them with a critical eye and raised eyebrow. Riddle cleared his throat and schooled his face back to a serious expression. “I’ll show you your room, (Y/N). It’s upstairs.”

“Was it too much?” (Y/N) asked as they ascended the staircase, out of ear shot from Edgar. “I was trying to make a good impression.”

“People don’t tend to be as friendly with strangers here,” He said. “When you meet my parents it would be better to wait for them to act first.”

“So no big hug?” She laughed at Riddle’s glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll be picture perfect polite tonight. I know it’s important to you.”

“Thank you. To be honest I still feel awkward about all of this.” “I could say ‘what are friends for’ but I think we’re a little past that. It’s not like I’m getting nothing out of this. This place is like a fancy hotel!” She pushed open the door to her room, bright with the sunlight streaming in across a bed with a large fluffy white duvet across it. (Y/N) spun around, falling against the bed with a ‘poof’ of the down feather pillows. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft,” She sighed. Suddenly she sat straight up. “Oh, oh! Show me your room!”

“What?”

She jumped up, taking his hand and pulling him back down the hall. “Come on, let me see your room! I want to see what you’re like when you're not at school.”

“Much the same, I promise.”

His eyes cut to a door down the hall and (Y/N) grinned wickedly. Ignoring Riddle’s sound of protest, she threw open his door.

She faltered a bit as she looked inside, stomach squeezing with that same unease she felt from outside. Spartan wouldn’t be the right way to describe Riddle’s childhood bedroom. Sure, there was plenty of stuff in it, a neatly made bed, an expensive looking desk with a glass hooded reading lamp, plenty of books filling shelves, and a polished wardrobe. But it felt so bare. It felt more like a catalog picture than someone’s own bedroom they had grown up in. (Y/N) looked back to Riddle, who was looking down as if ashamed, like his room was full of trash rather than uninspiringly neat.

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face, closing the door. “Well, show me around. Back in my world, houses like these would have a bunch of secret passages, maybe a couple of ghosts. But I guess ghosts aren’t all that unusual here.”

“I think your home has more ghosts than mine,” Riddle said. “As for secret passages…”

(Y/N) clapped her hands together. “Yeah?”

Riddle smiled slyly. “Sorry, none of those either. Unless you’re thinking of servant’s doors, but I don’t think they would appreciate us meddling.”

“Aw, boo.”

“No pun intended, I’m sure.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“How about the garden? It’s out back. I’ll have someone bring us tea. It’ll give us a chance to strategize.”

The garden was nestled in the backyard of the townhome, bordered by high fences separating it from the other townhomes. There were, unsurprisingly, rose bushes in raised wooden boxes. White gravel pathways cut through each of the boxes, strolling under a trellis wound with flowers. To the back of the garden was a small glass greenhouse, filled with different medical herbs and plants along with scientific equipment for study. There was a small table on the back porch underneath a pergola wrapped with ivy. After Riddle gave (Y/N) a tour of the gardens they sat down and a maid brought out a white China teapot, pouring tea into delicate blue and white tea cups. (Y/N) inhaled the steam, letting the warmth and sweet notes of the tea fill her lungs before taking a sip.

“Thanks!” (Y/N) said to the maid who blinked before bobbing a nod and rushing off. (Y/N) made a note to herself that the servants here had a habit of avoiding eye contact. “Okay,” She said, taking a blueberry scone from a plate the maid brought with the tea. “What’s our game plan?”

“Well, my mother is obviously the one to impress. I don’t believe Father will have much to say, he usually defers to her. That’s usually a good plan with anything, deferring to her, I mean. Safe topics of conversation include the weather, recent medical innovations, and the health and travel of neighbors. It’s best to avoid personal topics like parliament, gossip, or personal questions. It’s also best to avoid discussing novels, Mother says they fill one’s head with fanciful ideas and nonsense.”

“Okay, so when would be the best time to brag about you?”

Riddle’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?”

“Well, you’re my fake boyfriend and I’m trying to look good in front of your mom, so it makes sense if I talk you up, right? Like how you’re a great dorm leader, that dressage stuff you’ve been doing in the equestrian club, how you’ve been helping other students study. Cater told me about how you set up a Magicam account just to help him study, that was super cute.”

“I’m, ah, not actually supposed to have a Magicam account, educational or otherwise, so it’s probably best not to bring that up. Mother says social media rots your brain.”

“I mean, sometimes, yeah, but it can be fun too. And I know you still post sometimes. I follow you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! Those study tips didn’t just help Cater. Plus I like to see what’s going on with you. Not that you post stuff very often or anything, but I did like that picture from the last Unbirthday Party with those cupcakes you made.”

Riddle waved her praise off. “They weren’t anything special. Most of the frosting was smudged all together anyway.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, especially the first time around. And I thought they were cute.” She fished her phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the picture they were talking about on Magicam. It was a close up of Riddle, smiling, face smeared with red frosting. Trey was caught mid-laugh, handing him a napkin. Ace’s hand was blurred with movement in the lower right edge, having snagged a cupcake from the tray Riddle was holding, covered with cartoon rose dotting liners. It was obvious that the red and white frosting on top was meant to replicate delicate rose petals, and while some of them looked presentable, most had been piped with a shaky hand, leaving too much or too little frosting for the petals. “See? Cute.”

Riddle’s hand darted forward to push the phone down. “Yes, sure, fine, you made your point! I knew I should have taken that down.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Riddle sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine, yes, just don’t bring it up at dinner.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of wiggle room for conversation here. What do you usually talk about when you come home?”

Riddle took another sip of tea. “My studies, mostly. Class rankings, the local social season, applying for medical colleges, that sort of thing.”

“What about your friends at NRC? Or all the weird and exciting stuff that happens? Like when we all went to the ghost realm at Halloween, or Fluer City at Halloween? Wow, a lot of crazy stuff happens around Halloween, huh?”

“That’s all superfluous. My grades and plans for the internship fourth year are more important.”

“Riddle.” (Y/N) reached across the table, taking Riddle’s hand. “That stuff is still important, you know. We’ve gone through a lot of crazy stuff, a lot of it dangerous and scary. It’s okay to talk about that. There’s life outside of classrooms.”

Riddle looked away but squeezed her hand. “I know. And I’m getting there, with priorities and understanding others. But this sort of thing is important to her. And I still want to impress her, to have her be proud of me. Despite everything.”

(Y/N) pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something supportive, something wise, something to make everything better. But nothing seemed right, nothing to encapsulate the pity and support (Y/N) felt all at once. In the movies or on TV, there was always some sort of all encompassing resolution, a final speech to make everything better. But she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t seem to express exactly how she felt. That Riddle didn’t need to constantly try so hard, to always make himself a perfect image for others to view. That he was allowed to like the things he liked, no matter how trivial or silly they seemed. Make bad frosted cupcakes, learn dressage, play games, be a teenager like everyone else for once. That she had such strong feelings for him, faults included. But nothing seems right. So she just squeezed his hand back.

“Master Riddle,” A voice said, startling them both. Edgar stood at the door, casting a permanently judging look at the two of them. “Doctor and Mr. Rosehearts have returned. They have requested your presence in the dining room.”

Riddle jumped up, smoothing his outfit even though it was spotless. “Right, well, (Y/N), I suppose it’s time you meet my parents.”

Now that the time was actually here, (Y/N) didn’t expect to feel so nervous. Well, maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was anxious, hoping to make a good impression and help Riddle with their plot, but there was something else mixed with it. A kind of dread at coming face to face with a woman she had only ever heard bad things about. This woman, whether intentional or not, set the ground for Riddle’s Overblot. She was not an insignificant part of his emotional distress, his stress, the walls he put up around himself. How were you supposed to feel about a person like that? Especially when the object of that stress still so strongly wanted her approval?

Edgar escorted them to the dining room where the table was already set and a maid and footman were starting to set out the first course. (Y/N) felt her heart jump unpleasantly in her chest as she came face to face with Dr. Rosehearts. The older woman’s steely gray eyes locked on to (Y/N)’s directly as she stepped in the room. She felt like her skin had been peeled back and every dark and unpleasant thought she had ever had had been thrown on the table for everyone to inspect. Dr. Rosehearts’ otherwise perfect cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into a tight frown. Her red hair, matching perfectly to her son’s, was pulled back in a tight bun clasped at her neck, a deadly looking sharp hairpin keeping it together. She looked elegant and flawless, more like an expensive bone China doll than an actual living breathing person in front of her. (Y/N) almost jumped in surprise when she finally noticed Riddle’s father. He was reading a newspaper, sharp cheekbones and tired, watery eyes under wavy mousy brown hair. Other than a brief flit of his eyes as the two of them entered, it was almost like he didn’t notice them at all.

“Riddle,” His mother said, standing and turning to her son. (Y/N) felt like a stone had been removed from her chest as Dr. Rosehearts’ eyes finally left hers. “Welcome home. Take a seat.”

Riddle marched over to his seat opposite his father, sitting with a ramrod straight back, looking straight ahead. (Y/N) faltered for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Riddle or Mr. Rosehearts. The second of hesitation was noticed by Dr. Rosehearts, whose mouth ticked in annoyance. Riddle subtly nodded his head to the chair across from him, next to his father. (Y/N) scuttled over, pulling the chair out with an undignified squeak against the floor. Mr. Rosehearts looked up at her as she sat down, blinking like she had materialized out of thin air.

“Mother, Father,” Riddle said, voice stiff. “Allow me to introduce my partner, (Y/N) (L/N), Ramshackle Dorm Prefect at Night Raven College. (Y/N), this is my mother, Dr. Victoria Rosehearts, and my father, Mr. Albert Rosehearts.”

“Please to meet you,” (Y/N) said, giving what she hoped was a bright and welcoming smile. “Thank you for having me.”

“Yes, well,” Dr. Rosehearts said. “I must admit it was a surprise when Riddle told me he was bringing a guest home for the holiday.”

“Well, Riddle always talks so fondly about Dinah and I haven’t traveled too much, so I couldn’t help but impose. You have a lovely home, by the way.”

“I do wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, ignoring (Y/N)’s attempted start at conversation. “How a young girl such as yourself comes to attend an all boys school?”

“To be totally honest I’m not really sure myself,” (Y/N) said, laughing through the awkwardness of Dr. Rosehearts intense direct gaze. “We’ve been trying to figure that out since I first got here. It’s been kind of a struggle getting a hang of everything, considering I can’t even use magic, but I-”

(Y/N) was interrupted by the clatter of Dr. Rosehearts’ spoon clattering against her soup bowl. Even Mr. Rosehearts looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Did you say you can’t use magic?” Mr. Rosehearts said.

(Y/N) gulped, looking quickly at Riddle who was going pale. “Well, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I’m not even from this world. Dimension? Anyway, magic doesn't exist in my world. Somehow one of the black carriages swept me up and brought me here. No one can figure out how or why yet, not even our Magic Mirror. Our headmage has been trying to research it but I guess there’s not a lot of studies on interdimensional travel.” She tried to laugh off the heavy atmosphere. “But no, no magic. Can’t even ride a broom, which is a shame because that’s the one thing I would really love to do.”

Dr. Rosehearts cleared her throat, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. A maid hastily rushed in to clear her soup. “Well, I suppose Night Raven College’s admission requirements have become quite lacks as of late, having common folk mingling with upper crust society and nobles, not to mention allowing fae folk. I suppose anything is possible at this rate.”

(Y/N) scowled, finding herself blurting out her next statement despite Riddle’s miniscule shake of the head. “Hey, everyone works really hard at NRC. Where they’re from or their family doesn't matter, they’re all great mages. Besies, it’s the Magic Mirror that chooses people. It’s able to see everyone’s potential. And with everything that’s been going on this year everyone’s only gotten better. It’s amazing some of the stuff I’ve seen them do.”

“Oh?” Mr. Rosehearts said, folding his paper closed and leaning forward. “Has it been an interesting year?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what a typical year at a magic school is like, but to me it’s been insane! There was one time where one of our dorm heads got kidnapped by a ghost bride to marry him, and everyone got together to try to woo her away. She ended up slapping half of them and freezing them in place. Oh, Riddle was here, he had this amazing red velvet suit. Or one of our magestones got stolen by a fairy queen and we had to stage a whole heist to get it back. Our coach, Coach Vargas, had these camps to test people’s abilities and survival instinct when they couldn’t use magic. But then he dressed up as a monster and ‘kidnapped’ a bunch of students so everyone else had to come rescue them. The next camping trip he got one of our other professors in on it too. And every once and a while we’ll have this Culinary Crucible that they had to change the judging for because everyone kept cheating, but-”

“My!” Dr. Rosehearts suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe I remember the last time we had so much chatter at a mealtime.”

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.

Mr. Rosehearts, who had been nodding along to (Y/N) recollection of events with rapt attention, cleared his throat with a cough, leaning back in his chair and taking up his newspaper again. “Yes, well, youth these days,” He said, noncommittal.

Despite the fact that a maid had just brought out the next course, Dr. Rosehearts stood. “I find I’ve lost my appetite,” She announced. “I will be retiring early tonight. Riddle, we have an appointment at the Lorina Hotel tomorrow for high tea. Make sure you and your guest wear something presentable.” With that, she swept from the room without another word. The silence that followed was brittle, like ice on a lake right before someone plummets through it.

“Well,” (Y/N) said, breaking the quiet. She stood, walking over to Dr. Rosehearts abandoned plate and picking it up, dumping the roasted chicken and vegetable onto her own plate. “More for me then.”

~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) had apologized to Riddle no less than twelve times. She tried to defend herself, that she was taken by surprise that his parents didn’t know about her unique circumstances, that she was annoyed how dismissive Dr. Rosehearts had been, that she just started talking and couldn’t figure out how to stop. Not that any of it really excused her behavior, she knew. She felt like she had let Riddle down, ruining whatever chance, no matter how slim, of this being a peaceful visit home. And, while Riddle had repeated every time that it was fine, that she was okay, that he should have prepared her better, she still felt bad.

(Y/N) had never been to a high tea before. She wasn’t 100% sure what to wear, especially with Dr. Rosehearts’ comment from the night before. And it wasn’t like she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from in the first place. Thankfully, their alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion design had somehow grown fond of her during the school year, providing her with a few outfits to help her fit in better outside of school. The next morning, she pulled a dusty blue sundress with little white buttons out of her luggage. She had a pair of sandals more suited to the beach than a hotel, but they fit the theme better than her school loafers. She slipped them on and hoped no one would look down.

Tea was scheduled for 11 so (Y/N) decided to find Riddle and try to get a better lay of the land before they headed out. He didn’t answer her knock, which she thought was strange as Riddle wasn’t the type to sleep in, even if he was home on break. She felt strange wandering through the house. Every once and a while she would see a maid or footman dart out of one of the hidden servant’s doors, but before she could start a conversation or ask where her hosts were they would duck their heads and disappear.

She eventually found Mr. Rosehearts in the breakfast room, which was the same as the dinning room but with a changed name for some reason. The thick curtains had been thrown open letting light pour in across the spread on the table. Despite the fact that there was enough food to feed at least ten people, Mr. Rosehearts was the only one present, absentmindedly nibbling on some jam slathered toast.

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face. She might have ruined her first impression with Dr. Rosehearts last night, but Mr. Rosehearts had at least seemed intrigued by what she had to say. “Good morning!”

Mr. Rosehearts jumped, dropping his toast jam side down on the spotless table cloth. “Oh! Good morning.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The last thing she needed right now was to turn both of Riddle’s parents against her.

Mr. Rosehearts waved her off, gingerly picking up the toast and plopping it on his plate. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to company in the morning, is all. Not that I mind it. Please, sit.”

“Is everyone else still asleep?” (Y/N) asked, scooping up some chive studded scrambled eggs on her plate.

“Oh, no, Victoria doesn't believe in sleeping in. It disrupts the normal circadian rhythms, you know, especially for teenagers like you and Riddle. No, she and Riddle were speaking in her office.”

“Oh.” (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “I think I need to apologize.” Mr. Rosehearts looked up, blinking owlishly. “I was rambling last night, at dinner. I shouldn’t have been so argumentative, especially since I’m a guest in your home. I’ll be putting a better foot forward from now on, promise.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no, please, think nothing of it. Actually,” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was hoping you could expand on some of those stories you started last night. Just between you and me, I happen to have a penchant for gossip.” He patted the newspaper beside him. Now that (Y/N) got a closer look, she realized it was a society gossip column. She smiled, getting Bridgerton flashbacks.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. Do you want to start with Fleur City almost burning down or Magicam Monsters taking over NRC?”

Meanwhile, Riddle sat in an uncomfortable straight backed chair in his mother’s office. Various papers floated around the room, magically organizing themselves in various case files. A free-standing pen signed Dr. Rosehearts’ signature across multiple forms. Despite the warm morning light filling the room, Riddle felt chilled.

“I wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of her. “About the company you have chosen to keep while away at school.”

“(Y/N) is a respectable person,” Riddle said. “She was just thrown off last night. She’s still not used to many of our customs. She’s a fast learner, however, she’s acclimated remarkably quickly to life here. Given that she has no base of knowledge for many of the classes at Night Raven College she has good grades and-”

Dr. Rosehearts held up a hand, stopping Riddle with the words of praise in his throat. “The way the ones you associate with act reflects on you, Riddle. It also reflects upon me and the whole Rosehearts household. You should know better by now.”

Riddle felt his face flush, looking down. “Yes, Mother.”

“Really, Riddle, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for any pretty face. And how much do you actually know about her background, anyway? You said yourself she’s not from here. Who knows what kind of manipulation she might be playing at, using our good name against us?” Riddle bit his tongue, your defense springing into his mouth. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Yes, Mother, I know.”

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosehearts stood, Riddle following. “We’ll continue to house Miss (Y/N) here during the break, it would be bad form to throw her out at this point, but as soon as you return to school I expect you to end this frivolous excursion.”

Riddle felt his heart drop into his stomach. “But, Mother, I-”

“No buts, Riddle,” She said sternly. Riddle immediately looked down, avoiding her cold iron gaze. “I know best for you. You’ll do as I say. We have a plan for you, remember? There’s no use upending your future over some fleeting fancy. And besides, there are many wonderful eligible ladies here in town. We’ll be meeting a few of my top choices for you at the hotel. And we’ll be attending a ball tomorrow night. Your friend is not invited, by the way.��

Riddle drew in a sharp breath, a million things he wanted to say racing through his mind. His mother had arranged a meeting with bachelorettes when he had told her he already had a girlfriend? He realized with a sinking sensation that no plan he and (Y/N) would have come up with would have been good enough for his mother. She had her plan and nothing would be able to change it. He suddenly had the sensation of floating, no, falling, with no anchor or safety net. His stomach flipped and a rush of cold descended over his body.

“Yes, Mother,” He only said.

Dr. Rosehearts nodded definitively. She swept from the office, Riddle following close behind with downcast eyes. They both paused on the stairway, startled by the sound of laughter floating out from the breakfast room. Riddle pushed past his mother into the room. (Y/N) and his father sat at the table across from each other. His father’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a raucous laugh. Riddle couldn’t remember the last time he heard his father laugh like that, or even laugh at all. (Y/N) was in the middle of a story, hands animated.

“So of course the referee asked who he is, because their team didn’t have anyone signed up for an alternate, and Leona goes and uses my name! Like no one would recognize the second prince of the Sunset Savannah. And you know what, no one did!”

Mr. Rosehearts put his hand against his chest, trying to regain his composure. “And then? Did you at least win?”

“Oh, of course, yeah! And then we all had to run away in this jeep Leona was driving right when it started to rain. I’ve heard Checka still calls him ‘Unca (Y/N)’ sometimes.”

Mr. Rosehearts looked up, noticing Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts standing in the doorway. “Oh, Victoria! (Y/N) was just telling me the most wonderful story. Did you know she’s friends with Prince Leona of the Sunset Savannah? And the Asim heir, they donated at the last charity gala you attended, didn’t they? It’s amazing the adventures children can get up to now a days-”

“You’re very chatty this morning, Albert,” Dr. Rosehearts cut him off. “This much noise in the morning is quite unusual, don’t you agree?”

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped and he squirmed in his chair. He picked up his newspaper, flipping it so a person couldn’t see what he was reading.

(Y/N) frowned at the sudden change of mood, but gave Riddle a warm smile when she saw him. It was amazing how he almost immediately felt lighter. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing again. “Hi!” She chirped, standing. Riddle felt a rush of mixed emotions. Part fluff at (Y/N) smiling at him, beautiful in her sundress, part embarrassment knowing it was exactly the wrong thing to wear, and no doubt his mother had clocked that immediately.

Riddle reached for a cheese danish. His mother’s hand snapped out, swatting his hand away. “You’ll have sweets at the hotel,” She said, sniffing. “You don’t need the extra sugar, especially this early in the morning.”

‘Then why have it on the table?’ (Y/N) thought uncharitably. She went over to Riddle, linking her arm through his, pulling him away from Dr. Rosehearts. “You’re sweet enough already, Riddle. When do we head out?”

Later, as they were waiting for the carriages to head to the hotel, Riddle pulled out and quickly ate the danish (Y/N) had slipped in his pocket.

~~~

The Lorina Hotel stretched high above their heads. (Y/N) leaned back to take in the full scope of it. The facade was clean white bricks with dozens of windows glinting in the sunlight. Each story was capped by marble carvings of lions with wings, jumping fish, and flowers.

“No time for gawking,” Dr. Rosehearts said, straightening her gloves. “We have people waiting for us.”

“We do?” (Y/N) asked, purposefully ignoring Dr. Rosehearts thorny glare. “Are they your friends, Riddle?”

“Not in so many words,” He replied.

A finely dressed doorman opened the door to a lavish lobby. Before (Y/N) had a chance to ‘gawk’ again, Dr. Rosehearts swept them off to a side room. She gave their name to a waiter at a podium. The man skimmed the list of reservations in front of him, looking down his nose at (Y/N) and her uncovered shoulders. While (Y/N) was too enamored observing her surroundings, Riddle noticed. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and brought it around her shoulders. The man sniffed. He led them through the tea room to two tables situated against a large window. They sat by a large window opening onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Guests strolled across the green lawn, admiring flowers. Dr. and Mr. Rosehearts sat at their own small table while Riddle and (Y/N) were directed to one that had three other residents already.

“Riddle!” One of them called, smiling up at him. “How lovely to see you again.”

(Y/N) felt Riddle stiffen beside her. “Hello, Lily, Rose, Violet. It’s nice to see you all as well.”

(Y/N) slipped her hand into Riddle’s, who jumped in surprise, before inserting herself in the girls’ line of sight. “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Riddle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet some of his friends from home!”

All three girls, in Victorian inspired puffed up dresses with more lace and tulle than (Y/N) had ever seen before and large elaborate sun hats to match, startled, blinking at her as if she had appeared out of thin air.

Almost in sync, the three of them whipped out decorated fans. “Oh, hello,” Violet said. “We weren’t aware Riddle was bringing a guest.”

“You’ll just have to put up with me then, I guess.” Riddle pulled out her chair and, with a surge of confidence and a sideways glance at the three girls, (Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek. (Y/N) smiled at the shocked gasp they let out as Riddle’s face turned red. She couldn’t help but reveal in Dr. Rosehearts’ glower as Mr. Rosehearts discreetly smiled into his tea. “So, how close is this to the unbirthday parties at school?”

“An unbirthday party?” Lily said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a bit juvenile?”

“If by juvenile you mean really fun and a great excuse to dress up then yes, I suppose it is.” Under the table, Riddle squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, in warning or thankfulness she wasn’t sure. The three girls looked at eachother, flicking and fluttering their fans with precise motions.

A waiter brought a pot of tea to the table which he dutifully poured in everyone’s delicate tea cups. Another waiter brought a high stacked tower with tiny cakes and sandwiches. (Y/N) tried to cut down on her abrasiveness for the rest of the tea, not wanting to make Riddle uncomfortable. Although, to her it seemed the three other girls were doing a great job of that on their own. When they weren’t speaking to each other about him without his input, they chatted about things that had been happening in Dinah during the social season, then acted surprised when neither (Y/N) or Riddle could contribute to the conversation.

After a while, and two pots of tea, Riddle excused himself. A tense silence dropped over the table like a heavy curtain. The three girls continued casting knowing glances at each other, snapping and waving their fans.

(Y/N) spread her hands on the table. “Look, I know just enough about fan language to know you’re talking about me, but not enough to know what you’re saying. So if you have something you want to say you might as well come out and say it.”

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?” Rose said with a sniff.

“Among many other things.”

“We were just wondering,” Violet said smoothly. “About your pedigree. It’s unusual enough to have a girl attending an all boys school, so we surmised you must have a particular magical talent.”

“We all attend Lady Dormouse’s Finishing School, you see,” Lily said with a saccharine smile. “It’s a far more… elegant education.”

“Well, I don’t know about elegant,” (Y/N) said, pointedly ignoring Rose’s smirk when she said under her breath, “Clearly.” “But Night Raven College is a great place. Sure, it’s a minefield half the time and considering I can’t do any magic so half of the assignments are almost impossible, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made amazing friends there, and, of course, I got to meet Riddle. That’s the best part.” (Y/N) smiled wistfully.

The girls across from her all dropped their jaws at once. “You can’t use magic?” Violet gasped.

“Surely you know a simple zephyr spell? Or can light a candle?” Lily asked.

“Nope, not a thing. Don’t have one drop of magic in my whole body.” At this point it almost felt like a mark of pride. And she was beginning to relish the shocked expressions people made.

Violet reached forward and gently touched the back of (Y/N)’s hand. “You poor thing,” She said, voice breaking. Rose had pushed herself as far back in her chair as she could, as if magiclessness was contagious. (Y/N) could practically see the gears turning in Lily’s head as she considered such a thing being possible.

(Y/N) looked out the window to the courtyard, trying to avoid Violet’s overly sympathetic gaze. She perked up when she saw a few uniformed staff members setting up small white arches in the grass. A flock of pink flamingos waddled on tall, thin legs around the fountain. One of the staff members gently cradled a small wooden box where a hedgehog poked its nose out.

“Hey, Riddle!” She called as Riddle walked back to their table. “Check it out, they’re setting up croquet! We should see if we can play.”

Riddle’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, craning his neck to look out the window as the first round of players took their marks. He quickly looked back at his mother and schooled his face to a more serious expression. “That is, I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, I’d love a good game of croquet!” Rose said, clapping her hands. She stood, going over to Riddle and touching his shoulder in a way that made (Y/N) grit her teeth in annoyance. “I was the undisputed champion at Dormouse. You will play with us, won’t you, Riddle?”

The group exited to the courtyard, Mr. Rosehearts quickly arranging for a game with the attendants. The girls had huddled around the green, watching the previous game. Riddle was looking down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers, pulling at the skin around his nails.

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slinging her arm around Riddle’s shoulders. “I am here to make sure you have fun, fake relationship or not. So come on, let’s have fun! Plus, I have no idea how to play this game.”

“Well,” Riddle said. “The first thing is to choose your flamingo mallet.” He effortlessly snatched a flamingo by the neck, turning it so he held the legs. The flamingo immediately went ramrod straight.

“That doesn't bother them or anything, right?” (Y/N) asked, looking dubiously at the remaining flamingos.

“Not at all. They’re specifically trained for this. Go on, try one.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) tried to replicate the quick movements Riddle had made when grabbing his flamingo. The bird she was aiming for dodged her hand. She grabbed again. Another miss. She heard the girls tittering with laughter. (Y/N) huffed, trying to snatch at the flamingo with both hands this time. The large bird squealed, flapping its large wings as (Y/N) wrestled it. The flamingo squawked and (Y/N) squawked back in defiance. Riddle quickly came to her rescue, grabbing the flamingo and performing the same practiced motion. The flamingo immediately went rigged, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the defiant glint in its eye.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) mumbled, plucking stray feathers out of her hair.

Riddle stifled a laugh behind his fist. “Not a problem. The rest of the game is pretty simple. You want to hit the hedgehog through the white pickets to the end of the lawn, then again on the way back. The fewest hits win.”

“Right, sure. Sounds easy enough.” When Riddle went to take his first hit, (Y/N) whispered harshly to her flamingo mallet, “Don’t mess this up for me.”

After the others had taken their turn, (Y/N) stepped up to the first hoop, her hedgehog rolled into a ball in front of her. She carefully angled her flamingo down, tapping the head against the small animal. ‘Just like mini-golf,’ She thought to herself and swung gently. She heard giggling from the spectators. She looked down, seeing her hedgehog in the exact same place. Only, no, it was about an inch to the left, away from where she had hit. She tapped her foot, swinging again, this time keeping her eye on the spiky ball. Yup, there, again, it rolled ever so slightly the other way.

“My ball is cheating,” (Y/N) said, pointing at the innocent-looking hedgehog.

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames their tools,” Dr. Rosehearts replied from the sidelines.

“I don’t think that applies here, but sure,” (Y/N) mumbled.

She squared her feet, tightening her grip on the flamingo’s legs. She tried a harder swing this time. It connected, sending the tiny hedgehog tumbling. Before (Y/N) could celebrate her victory, the animal swung out in a large arc away from the pickets, slowing to a stop right by Dr. Rosehearts’ feet. (Y/N) scowled, going over to stand by Riddle’s parents while the rest of the group took their turns for the second round.

“You know,” Dr. Rosehearts said softly to (Y/N) when Mr. Rosehearts walked off to get some tea. “Lily’s father is a minister in parliament. She’s an especially accomplished pianist and frequently has requests from the royal theater company to play.”

“MmHmm,” (Y/N) hummed.

“Violet recently won first place in a national equestrian show jumping competition. Her father is a colleague of mine, an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother is a most accomplished florist.”

“Neat.”

“Rose is an absolute gem, of course. Extremely high marks with practical magic, and her embroidery has been displayed as far as the Sunshine Lands. She’s also wonderfully organized and an exemplary hostess. I can see her managing a fine house one day.”

“Maybe, but Rose Rosehearts is kind of clunky, don’t you think? Or redundant? One of those.”

Dr. Roshearts sniffed. “She also has a firm grasp on language and elegance.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something she knew she would probably regret when the referee called for her turn. Dr. Rosehearts inclined her head and took a step back, giving (Y/N) room to swing.

“Alright,” (Y/N) said softly to the ball and mallet. “The arch this time.”

She aimed, taking in a deep breath as she swung. She looked around the green, not seeing her hedgehog rolling towards or away. It also wasn’t stuck in its place at her feet. Suddenly, the flamingo began to writhe in her hands, flapping its large wings to bat fiercely at her face. She coughed on feathers, trying to hold the distressed animal as far away as possible. Peaking out from one eye, she saw the hedgehog clinging to the flamingo’s neck, climbing up and down while the bird desperately tried to escape its tiny claws. (Y/N) shook the bird, reaching out to try and dislodge the hedgehog. That only seemed to make it worse as both animals began to panic. The flamingo kicked out causing (Y/N) to drop it. With an unholy squawk, it leapt out of her hands, flapping and dancing, colliding right into the gawking Dr. Rosehearts. The red-haired woman shrieked, several hotel attendants coming to her rescue, trying to grab the flamingo. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Mr. Rosehearts watching the whole spectacle with fascination from the tea cart.

As the attendants apologized profusely to a fuming Dr. Rosehearts, (Y/N) made her way over to Riddle and the three gasping girls. “Well,” She said. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game.”

~~~

When they got back to the townhouse, (Y/N) had another round of apologizing to Riddle.

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” She said. She didn’t say she felt somewhat satisfied to see Dr. Rosehearts in distress, plucking stray feathers out of her hair and clothes the whole ride home. “I don’t know what I was doing wrong. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” Riddle said, pulling off his tie. (Y/N) was sitting on the bed in his room as he watched her in the mirror on his bureau. “The hotel should have vetted their animals better.”

(Y/N) bit her lip. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan isn't going very well, is it?” Riddle faltered, dropping his tie. He turned around to look at (Y/N). Her mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, her eyes misty, and she clutched the duvet tightly. “Sorry. I really wanted to make you look good. I wanted to try and seem like the perfect girlfriend, but I just kind of made everything worse. I wanted to show you that I-” She suddenly cut herself off, looking up and meeting Riddle’s eyes. Her face grew hot and she looked away. “Sorry, don’t listen to me, I’m rambling.”

More than anything, Riddle wanted to ask her what she was going to say. More than anything, he wanted to say something back, something that had been stuck in his mind well before he asked for her help in their plot. Something that made his heart speed up with her every kind word and action, that made him feel pleasantly light-headed whenever they were close, that caused his chest to fill with pride as she worked tirelessly to defend him during the trip. But his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He could still feel the iron-hot glare from his mother on the carriage ride back from the hotel. And, beneath it all, a simmering fear that their ploy was really just a ploy, that (Y/N) was just an exceptionally good actor, that there was no way she could feel the same way about him that he was realizing he felt about her.

He tapped his foot, coming over to sit next to (Y/N) on his bed. “There’s a ball tomorrow night,” He said, not looking at her. “Mother, Father, and I are invited. Mother… asked if you would be alright remaining at home.”

“Oh,” She said, and Riddle tried not to flinch back at her tone of voice. “No, yeah, I get it. Hey, I don’t even have anything to wear. So, yeah, it’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Riddle said, his harshness even startling himself. He cleared his throat, starting again. “It’s unfair to you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here. This whole thing was a bad idea to begin with.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) said again, another fractured syllable. She stood. “Well, yeah, fine. I guess the idea of us being together is a bad idea.”

Riddle felt a jolt in his chest. “No, wait, (Y/N), that’s not what I-”

“No, I get it. Why would someone like you want to be with someone like me in the first place? You’ve got a plan all figured out, right? NRC then internships then becoming a world famous doctor. And what do I have to offer you? I can’t do magic, I don’t have any family, I definitely don’t have any money, I have no idea what I’m even going to do over the summer break. And it’s not like I fit in with your world, anyway. Not just Twisted Wonderland, but the whole life you want for yourself. It’s fine, I get it.” She stood, pacing, hot and angry tears pricking her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath to steady herself before turning to Riddle face to face. “I won’t get in your way anymore. But I do want to say that you deserve better than how you’ve been treated. You’re not your mother. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are by yourself, not some mold other people try to put you in. You’ve worked so hard these past few months to be a better person and I- I just hope you find someone who recognizes that.” Without another word, (Y/N) rushed out of the room. She nearly collided with Dr. Rosehearts in the hall before muttering an “excuse me” before throwing herself in her room, locking the door.

Dr. Rosehearts lifted her chin, walking the few steps forward to Riddle’s room. She didn’t bother knocking and just stepped inside. Riddle was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands.

“I’m glad you’ve come to see reason, Riddle,” She vaguely praised. Riddle looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, checks flushed. “We’ll leave for your suit fitting in the morning. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Mother,” Riddle mumbled. The sound of his door clicking shut ricocheted around his ears.

~~~

“I messed up,” (Y/N) said. “I really messed this whole thing up.”

It was the next day. She’d barely slept the night before, not bothering to go down to dinner last night or breakfast this morning. Eventually, she heard the front door open and close, watching Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts board a carriage to go out. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and called Cater.

“I mean,” He said. “It’s not the best, that’s for sure.”

(Y/N) had called Cater after a moment of desperation, eager for someone to talk to and express her frustrations. She trusted Cater enough to know he wouldn’t immediately run off and tell everyone about the plan and would be patient enough to listen to her vent. He had also lent a sympathetic ear in the past when she had gotten overwhelmed by the strangeness of her new world and missing her old one. She could practically see him twist a lock of hair around his finger as he talked to her. “But it’s not all your fault. Riddle could have stepped in to help, you know.”

“He’s just… under a lot of pressure here,” She said. “I guess I had this idea in my head of what it would be like. But, man, do I hate his mom.”

“We all do, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I kind of abandoned him, though. But he basically disinvited me from my last night here so how am I supposed to feel?”

“Hmm. Do you know where the party is supposed to be tonight?”

“At Rose’s place, bleh.”

“Well, you could always crash it.”

(Y/N) sat up. “Crash? I can’t do that, I’ve embarrassed him enough already.”

Cater huffed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re both so blind I don’t know how you stand it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said the reason you went there in the first place was to help Riddle.”

“I did - I am - but-”

“And what? You’re just going to let one bad game of croquet take that from you?”

“It wasn’t just that game, I-”

“And we both know Riddle’s blind spots. Sure, he’s been better about all that rule stuff and chilling out here at school, but being back in the middle of all his trauma is different, you know?”

“I - You know what? You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, I usually am.”

“Riddle acts like he’s in charge all the time, I forget that we’re practically the same age. And everyone needs help, even when they’re too stubborn to admit it.”

“Yes, exactly! Stubborn is practically Riddle’s middle name!”

“Which means,” (Y/N) stood. “I’ve got to be stubborn back! If Riddle can’t ask for help then I need to be a good girlfriend and recognize he needs it and do my part!”

(Y/N) could feel Cater’s smirk in his next words. “Ooh, his girlfriend, huh? I thought you were just pretending?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Thanks, Cater. I’ve got to go get ready. I have a party to crash!”

“I’m going to need every detail when you get back!”

(Y/N) quickly hung up, dialing another number. “Hi, Vil? It’s (Y/N). I have a really big favor to ask.”

~~~

Riddle stared into his flute of sparkling wine, watching the few remaining bubbles rise and pop. It was flat by now and he hadn’t taken a single sip. The last rays of sunlight glowed gently against the surrounding townhouses that Riddle could see out the large bay windows of the ballroom. Couples twirled together along the floor to the elegant music from a string band. A long table was precisely set with way too much food, even given the substantial size of the party. His father mingled across the room with several other gentlemen from his club, doing his best to blend into the curtains. Riddle stood dutifully next to his mother who was speaking to Rose’s mother. Rose herself hovered next to him. He floated in and out of their conversation, only picking up about every fourth word. He wore a dark red velvet coat with a tight white starched collar that he kept tugging at to keep from strangling him.

“And then,” Rose was saying. “Betty walks in with a yellow checkered parasol! Can you imagine? For an autumn leaf viewing picnic? Honestly, I’m surprised she had the nerve to stay around for as long as she did with that sort of faux pa.”

“MmHm,” Riddle replied, swirling his glass causing a few errant bubbles to meander to the surface.

“Really, the only thing that might have been more embarrassing is if she brought a chestnut tart! Oh, are you alright, Riddle?”

Riddle coughed, clearing his throat as his face turned red. “Yes, fine, just remembering something unpleasant.”

“Well, I’m not sure how you could think of anything unpleasant with me around,” She said, clutching his arm to pull him closer to her, batting her eyes. Her eyelashes were so long Riddle had a single terrifying impression of spider legs.

Riddle cleared his throat again, more uncomfortable this time. “Yes, I can’t imagine.”

Rose pouted and opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the round of gasps and murmurs that swelled from around the room. At the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, a footman was taking a dark traveling cloak from a newcomer. The cloak fell away to reveal the elaborate dress underneath it. The bodice was a rich crimson red with puffed sleeves at the shoulders, leading down to illusion sheer sleeves with tiny intricate beading twinkling down to the tight clasps at the wrists. The skirt bloomed out from the waist, layers upon layers of fabric resembling a large upside down rose. The red from the top continued down the skirt in an almost dripping effect, the rose petals turning white at the bottom as if they were being painted. The rose parted just at the knees to allow the wearer more freedom of movement, revealing sheer stockings with the same bead work.

Riddle shoved his glass into Rose’s hands, ignoring her shocked look. He strode forward, cutting through the crowd. As the new figure descended the stairs, he met her, extending his hand to take hers.

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, smiling gently at him. “I’m not too late, am I?”

“No,” Riddle breathed. “You’re here just in time.”

“Excuse me!” They both turned to see Rose and her mother coming over, frustration on Rose’s face and confusion on her mother’s.

“I’m sorry,” Rose’s mother said, eyes darting to (Y/N)’s and Riddle’s held hand. “This is a closed party.”

“She’s with me,” Riddle quickly said. He saw his mother furrow her brow and press her lips together. He continued, meeting her gaze. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. She’s my guest.”

There was another small round of exclamations around the room. Rose crossed her arms while her mother blinked in confusion. “Oh, well, then please, by all means, welcome.”

(Y/N) bobbed a curtsy, “Thank you.”

“Would you like to dance?” Riddle asked.

(Y/N) smiled and Riddle felt like his heart would explode. “I’d love to.” He led her to the dance floor. The band, which had paused at her entrance, started up again with a waltz.“I should warn you,” (Y/N) whispered to him as they took their place. “I have no idea how to do any of this.”

“That’s alright. Just follow my lead.”

“Riddle, I’d follow you through the Land of Ghosts and back if you asked me to.” Riddle tripped over his own feet, (Y/N) catching him in a spin and laughing.

“I like your dress,” Riddle said, trying to regain his composure. “I didn’t see it before.”

“Thanks, it’s a loner. I have friends in high places. Vil, I mean Vil.”

Spectators watched the couple in a not at all elegant dance across the floor. “Oh, Victoria,” Another socialite's mother said, coming up to her. “You must be so proud. She seems like such a lovely girl. And Riddle looks so happy!”

“Indeed,” Dr. Rosehearts replied with a steely stare at the couple. She noticed the flush on Riddle’s cheeks, his eyes closed as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said. (Y/N) took a wrong step back, bumping into another couple dancing behind them. She watched them apologize, (Y/N) saying something to the other couple that made them laugh and wave a pleasant goodbye. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth, nose screwing up in frustration.

The song ended and Riddle and (Y/N) exited the dance floor. They’re faces were both flushed, glowing underneath the chandelier lights. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she watched Riddle, a rare genuine smile across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always tell when it was a sincere smile whenever a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows leaning to his left eye. She wondered what it meant that she had studied his face so intently to notice that.

Dr. Rosehearts interrupted the conversations happening around her by walking away, striding with her head held high to Riddle and (Y/N). (Y/N) noticed her first, taking a side step closer to Riddle and meeting the older woman’s stare with unabashed defiance. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth again.

“Riddle,” Dr. Rosehearts said. Riddle jumped, just now noticing his mother’s presence. His body immediately stiffened, shoulders going back to make a conscious effort to stand straighter. “Lewis and Carol were looking for you.” She waved her hand over to the other side of the ballroom. “I thought I might have a chat with (Y/N).”

Riddle started to stutter a response before (Y/N) laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” She said. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.” Riddle looked between the two women, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, before nodding hesitantly and going over to see his old middle school classmates.

(Y/N) plucked a glass of cider from a passing waiter. She wondered briefly what the drinking laws were here.

“Well,” Dr. Rosehearts said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance to an event you weren’t invited to.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” (Y/N) said, swirling her glass. “I’m Riddle’s plus one. He wanted me here.”

“Yes, I suppose it is very kind of him to humor you.”

“Well, someone in your family needs to have a sense of humor, right?”

“Hmph. Riddle has a plan, you know. He can’t be distracted by frivolities.”

“You have a plan, you mean. Riddle can do whatever he wants. He’s exceedingly capable, smart, and an amazing mage.”

“Thanks to my careful tutelage.”

“Despite your ‘careful tutelage’ I’d say.”

Dr. Rosehearts eyes flared. “You know nothing about my relationship with my son. My son.”

“Oh, I know plenty.”

“And I know my son. Believe me, your relationship, or whatever you want to call this, is just some passing fancy. He’ll get over it soon and come back to me with his senses intact.”

“At least my relationship with him didn’t lead to his Overblot.”

There was a snapping sound, a shatter of glass, and a gasp from across the ballroom. Riddle whirled around. His mother stood over (Y/N), her hand raised. (Y/N) clutched her cheek, already turning red from Dr. Rosehearts’ slap.

“How dare you?” She shouted, now drawing every eye around the room. “My Riddle was perfectly fine until the moment you showed up at that school. He was obedient until you started influencing him!”

“And that’s all that matters, right? That he is obedient to you. That he does whatever you say. He’s not your doll for you to play with, he’s a living breathing amazing person you just refuse to recognize has his own thoughts and life outside of you!”

“I won’t take criticism from some magicless interloper who cavorts with fae and meddles with every aspect of a world she doesn't understand!”

“Well, that’s just the beginning of your issues, isn’t it? You’re so stuck in your own head you refuse to recognize when you’re in the wrong and actively hurting the people around you!”

Dr. Rosehearts took in a sharp inhale, raising her hand again.

“Mother!” Both women turned to see Riddle rushing over to them.

(Y/N) immediately blanched. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I-”

“Riddle!” Dr. Rosehearts cut her off, jabbing a finger at (Y/N). “Control this wretched girl!”

“I will do no such thing,” Riddle said defiantly, putting himself between his mother and (Y/N). He turned to her, lowering his voice. “Are you alright?”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

He gave a decisive nod and turned back to Dr. Rosehearts. “Mother, you need to apologize.”

Dr. Rosehearts gaped at him. “Me? Apologize to her?”

“You’ve been nothing but hateful since (Y/N)’s arrived. She’s our guest and someone extremely important to me. You could at least have the common courtesy to be polite.”

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was cherry red. “How dare you speak to me like this! I’m your mother!”

“And nothing she said was untrue!” Dr. Rosehearts flinched back. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to please you, to make you proud of me. I worked so, so hard. It crushed me, it destroyed me, that I couldn’t meet your impossible expectations! And I just thought that was how the world was, set in rigid rules, and anyone who couldn’t follow every last one was a bad person. I ruined friendships, I ruined myself, I almost ruined everything when I Overblot!” Another round of gasps rang from around the room. (Y/N) slipped her hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. He squeezed back, soldiering on. “I’m not a son to you, I’m a project! I’m some doll you parade around and pose however you want without any actual care for the damage you might do! (Y/N) has shown me I can be a better person, that I can be who I actually want to be! Except I have no idea who that person is because you’ve broken me into your specific mold for so long. She’s stayed by me, my friends have stayed by me, no matter what. For the first time in my life I feel content with myself, like I can actually breathe. And you act like that’s a bad thing.” Riddle was breathing hard, hot tears starting to spill from eyes. “Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to please you. I’ll never be good enough for you. And that’s fine. I don’t want to be. Now I just want to be good enough for myself. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Still holding hands, the two swept from the ballroom, the party goers parting for them like the Red Sea.

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was red with rage, eyes darting around the room from each pitying, concerned, and judging face of the attendants to her son’s retreating back. She was breathing hard, head fuzzy, vision going blurry around the edges. Stepping forward, she slid her hairpin from her perfectly maintained bun, a magestone embedded at one end. She took a solid step forward, pointing it at Riddle. “Riddle-!”

“Victoria!” She froze at the sudden exclamation. She turned, seeing Mr. Rosehearts staring steadfastly at her. “That’s enough.”

She stopped, looking down at her hand, at her wand, at what she was about to do. She gasped, dropping the wand so it clattered against the marble flooring. The sound echoed in her ears.

~~~

It was starting to rain outside. Riddle shrugged off his jacket, holding it above the two of them to huddle beneath it.

“I don’t think we would be able to take the carriage back,” He said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the townhouse anyway.”

“No problem,” (Y/N) said, pulling her phone out of an invisible pocket. “Give me a second. Hi, Hornton? It’s (Y/N).” Minutes later, a private carriage from the Lorina Hotel was pulled alongside the cafe’s outside seating where Riddle and (Y/N) had taken up temporary shelter. “Friends in high places,” She said as they climbed inside.

The two were quiet as the carriage rumbled on. They sat next to each other on the bench seats. Riddle leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as she rubbed circles in the back of his hand. They exited soon after at the hotel, a doorman holding an umbrella over their heads as they rushed inside.

At the front desk, the concierge and manager were talking in animated whispers, jolting up to paste on bright smiles as the two approached the desk. “Hello!” The manager said, a little too enthusiastically. “Checking in under Draconia?”

“Yup, that’s us,” (Y/N) said, holding Riddle close. “Two rooms, please.”

“Ah, well, of course, you see,” The manager stuttered. (Y/N) suspected they didn’t often get calls from foreign royalty as it was throwing the poor man off this game. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned to his majesty on the phone, we only have one room left available.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s a double that will work fine, too.”

The manager cringed. “It’s a single bed, Miss.”

“Ah.” (Y/N) said, head starting to spin. She tried to quickly problem solve in her head. Could she call Horton back and ask him to make reservations somewhere else? Or would that be rude? Just the thought of going back to the Rosehearts townhome made her skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” Riddle said. “We’ll take it.” The manager looked relieved as he handed over the keys. “I’ll need to make a phone call as well, to have our things brought here in the morning. Do you have anything we could use for the night?”

“Of course, sir! Please, take it with our compliments.”

They handed over two sets of monogrammed gray pajamas. A bellhop led them to the elevator, pushing the button to their floor.

“I guess you’re right,” Riddle said. “It does pay to have friends in high places.”

For some reason, that comment, along with the building stress of the night, broke the tight bundle of nerves (Y/N) had lodged in her chest. She started giggling, not being able to stop or catch her breath. Riddle soon followed, both of them almost doubled over with impractical laughter. They continued to their room, a patron from next door sticking his head out at the noise. Their laughter died down when they came into the room, both setting eyes on the single bed at the center.

“I’m going to take a shower,” (Y/N) said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. Riddle just nodded, tearing is eyes from the bed and trying very hard to look anywhere else.

In the bathroom, (Y/N) peeled off her dress, feeling kind of bad about haphazardly throwing it over the towel rack to hang. She turned the water on to almost scalding, letting it rush over her in an attempt to beat the chill that had settled in her bones, only partially from the rain. After her shower, she changed into the provided pajamas. They were warm and soft against her skin. She hesitated before exiting the bathroom.

Riddle jumped when she came out, and she wondered if she should have knocked first. She saw he had pulled the duvet and one of the massive pillows off the bed, laying them out on the floor. “You can take the bed tonight,” He said. “I’ll sleep here.” Without waiting for her protest, Riddle went into the bathroom locking it behind him. She soon heard the sound of rushing water from the shower.

‘Well, that’s not very fair,’ She thought. She drug off the remaining blanket from the bed and the other pillow, creating her own spot on the opposite side on the floor. Riddle was the one who just had his whole world tossed around. It was only fair if he got the bed for the night. A few minutes later, Riddle left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked confused at (Y/N) on the floor on her side of the bed.

“I’d say you can take the bed,” (Y/N) said. “But I know you’re too stubborn and chivalrous for that. So I’ll stay down here too. That way we’re even.”

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Riddle said.

“I want to.”

Riddle stared at her. (Y/N) could almost see the thoughts turning in his head. He nodded once, going over to his side of the bed and laying down on the improv sleeping mat. (Y/N) reached up and switched off the light. A soft glow from the street lamps came in through the window, the rain softly padding against the glass. (Y/N) could see Riddle through the space under the bed. He was staring straight up, hands clasped tightly against his stomach.

“Riddle-,” She started.

“I’m glad I said it. I think I’ve been wanting to say all of that for a long time now. And I don’t think I would have been able to if you weren’t there, if I didn’t know I had your support. So thank you.”

(Y/N) thought hard, turning his words over in her head. ‘Screw it,’ She thought. She got up, dragging her blanket and pillow with her. She went over to Riddle’s side of the floor/bed, dropping her stuff next to him and laying back down. She turned on her side to look at him, meeting his wide confused eyes.

“Riddle, I think I’m in love with you.” Riddle sputtered, choking on air, but now that she had started, (Y/N) knew she had to power through. “I mean, I’ve never really been in love with someone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. My feelings for you, I mean. It started off with just really admiring you. I know the beginning of the year was really tough and I can’t imagine what it was like to go through all of that. But ever since you’ve been working so hard, and I can see that, everyone can see that. You’re smart and brave and stubborn as hell, which I got to admit I kind of like. I love how I can tell when you get genuinely excited about something or that smug grin you get when you’re right about something. You’re a great house warden and a good friend. Not to mention you’re really cute. So, yeah. I just needed to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Or you don’t want to give me an answer right now. I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in her chest. The silence of the room was only broken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.

“(Y/N)?” Riddle said softly. (Y/N) turned on her side so the two of them were facing each other again. “You know I’m not good with talking about my feelings. I still have a hard time deciphering them myself, to be honest. But one thing I’m absolutely certain about is how I feel about you. I love you. I have to admit, I had ulterior motives when I asked you to come with me for this. I thought maybe it would be some sort of test run for an actual relationship, which now, saying it out loud, I realize how awful that sounds, and I’m sorry. I love how I feel around you, like I can be the greatest person in the world. I love how kind you are, how ready to jump into action, how ready you are to help no matter what. I love how steadfast and brave you are in what must be a terrifying situation, not knowing anything about your surroundings or having the same tools as all of us to combat it. And you’ve basically taken on raising Grim by yourself which I know can’t be easy with having that extra responsibility all of a sudden on top of everything else. I know I might not be the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, like you said, and I can get angry easily. Obviously my family is a complete mess. But, I hope, despite everything, you can still accept me for who I am and for who I want to be.”

“Riddle, I already said I love you. Of course I accept you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Despite how flustered it made him, Riddle wouldn’t want to be pried out of each other’s arms as they fell asleep for anything in the world.

~~~

It was sunny the next morning, the rain from the night before lending a pleasant coolness to the air. Staff from the Rosehearts’ townhouse had dropped off Riddle and (Y/N)’s packed bags that morning and the newly formed couple was getting ready to head back to their starting point for the Magic Mirror to bring them back to school. (Y/N) tried to buy some fancy chocolates from the hotel for the boys back at NRC, but the manager and staff had shoved the boxes into her hands at no charge.

“Compliments to friends of the Draconia family!” He had said.

As they got ready to head out, they heard someone call from behind them, “Riddle!”

They turned around, seeing the Rosehearts’ carriage come down the street, Mr. Rosehearts leaning out of the window, waving. He jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop, jogging over.

(Y/N) took a step in front of Riddle. “Do you want me to deal with it?” She asked.

“No, it’s fine,” He said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Riddle left his bags with (Y/N), who watched Mr. Rosehearts’ approach with a critical eye, and walked over to meet his father. “Father. I’ll be heading back to school soon. I don’t want to be late.”

“Right, of course, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He seemed nervous, not meeting his son’s eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, Riddle.”

Riddle blinked. “Apologize?”

“Yes, and it’s a long time coming. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good father to you. I saw the kind of stress your mother put you under, how controlling it could be. And I ignored it. I should have been better for you, stood up for you more. You’re my son, Riddle, and I love you. But I haven’t acted like it for a long time. I hope, one day, we can start again and you can forgive me.”

“I-” Riddle was at a loss for words. “I can’t say it will be soon, but I appreciate you saying that. I hope you can understand.”

Mr. Rosehearts smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll go on your time.”

Riddle looked back at the carriage. “Is Mother here?”

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “No, she’s still at home. We’re actually going to… spend some time apart for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s for the best. I’ll be out at the country estate if you need anything.” He winked and whispered conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get into ornithology. I hear there’s a rare variant of the jubjub bird in the area I’ve been dying to get a look at.”

The two separated, Mr. Rosehearts to his carriage and Riddle to (Y/N). “You okay?” She asked.

“Fine. I think things might be looking up, actually.”

She bumped him with her hip. “Well, you’ve got a super cool new girlfriend now, so I sure hope so.”

Riddle chuckled, linking their arms together. They stepped back through the portal to school, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations would come next, they would face them together.

#wafflefriesfics #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #fanfic #fake dating

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Text

To Be Warm And Comfy

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I was only going to write down this little idea before I took a nap... And then I ended up writing the whole thing

The crochet theme actually came out of nowhere for me. I cannot crochet anything more than a chain to save my life, but I do loom knit from time to time

Warnings: self-deprecation, low self worth

Word Count: 776

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Slotted between his legs, you rested your back against Astarion's chest. His arms coiled around your waist and held you close, while he pressed his nose into your neck and peered over your shoulder. With practiced hands, the yarn slid through your fingers at the perfect tension, hooked and worked together into rows of perfect stitches.

He'd never seen anything quite like it. During his living years, he focused on intellectualism and law, not crafts. And during his servitude, sewing and embroidering came about from necessity, though he did still enjoy them. This was incredible. He couldn't stop watching as you worked in smooth movements to crochet your little project. You wouldn't tell him what it was, but he was content simply to watch.

For several weeks, this became the nightly pattern. You'd lay back in his arms while he held you, watching you work away in silence or with idle chatter. When you finished for the night, you'd set your project aside where it wouldn't get damaged, he'd gingerly bite into your neck and take his share, and he'd lay down with you as you drifted off to sleep. Usually he stayed, if he'd had enough to eat during the day and didn't need to sip on some boar or squirrels. Sometimes he would read while you crocheted, sharing his favorite bits with you. It was nice. Peaceful.

You told him, one night, that you were almost finished. He'd watched with rapt attention then, studying the way you fastened off and weaved the excess yarn back through the stitches. He'd realized almost a week ago that it was a sweater, but it was almost a marvel when you held it up by the shoulders in front of you both to show it off.

He kissed your jaw with a gentle squeeze around your midsection. "It looks wonderful, darling."

You hummed, smiling brightly. "I'm really glad you think so." You sat up and turned in his arms. He didn't fight to keep you where you were, though he certainly missed the solidness and warmth you provided. You held it out to him. "Put it on."

He frowned, confused. "Don't tell me you spent weeks making that just to give it away?"

"Of course I did, now put it on."

"I'm hardly worth the effort," he scoffed. He did not accept the gift. His expressions mixed oddly - light-hearted joy, befuddlement, self-deprecation - all flooding his system and overwhelming him. He simply could not grasp the fact you'd go through all the effort for him. "Surely it would look much nicer on you!"

You sighed, understanding and long-suffering. "Tell you what, if it doesn't fit or you don't like it, I'll keep it. Deal?"

He sighed, too. He'd hardly be able to refuse it once he put it on. But you nudged the sweater in his direction again, and how could he say no?

You watched with a wide grin as he slipped it over his head and slid the sleeves along his arms. It was... really nice, actually. Warm and soft without feeling constricting. It fit him perfectly.

"You're always so cold," you explain, wrapping your arms around his waist and relaxing forward until your chin was against his chest. "So I made you this. You can wear it when touch is too overwhelming, or if you feel too out of it to cuddle. I just want you to be warm and comfy."

He chuckles breathlessly, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "I'm sure I'll be very comfy in this."

His undead heart ached. You went through so much trouble. He'd seen you struggle to find enough of the same yarn, watched you cuss and groan every time a stitch fell or when you had to undo a section because you miscounted. He'd held and massaged your hands when crocheting began to wear them out.

And still you persevered. For him. You even ensured it would fit a little loose, so he wouldn't be claustrophobic. It was... a lot. To have someone go through all this trouble.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up until he could give you a proper hug. He nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, and he sighed. Softly, sweetly - completely relaxed.

"Thank you." He bit his tongue before he could ask if you were sure, if he really was worth the effort. Surely, by making the sweater, you'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was. "I shall cherish it always."

"I love you," you coo sweetly by his ear.

He must look like a fool with how wide he's smiling. "I love you, too, dear."

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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putschki1969 · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Putschki, how are you doing? I was glad to read your post about the concert you attended, it looked fun and the photos you took were so pretty! I have a question for you today that is a little nosy, so don't mind not answering if you don't want to. Have Kalafina ever mentioned the lgbt community/rights? Different Japanese artists have begun to talk about certain issues in the last years, a lot more compared to the past, and I was wondering if they've ever said anything about it 🌈

Hello there!!

I am good, thank you😊

As for your question, don't worry, it's fine. It's just a little complicated to write a comprehensive answer since there's some ambiguity involved.

Generally speaking, I would say, no, they have not really mentioned anything specific regarding the LGBT community/rights. During the Kalafina days, their public image was very well-curated so everything was rather restrained and maybe even a little conservative. Not in a particularly strict manner but there was certainly never any mention of political or social issues or really anything that could be misconstrued in a negative or problematic manner.

Occasionally, they have mentioned things in passing on a superficial level regarding overarching concepts such as same-sex attraction but I don't recall them ever explicitly talking or posting about LGBT issues. While they have a lot more freedom as solo artists (at least Keiko and Hikaru), I also don't remember them ever addressing such topics in recent years. Please keep in mind though that I regularly miss Hikaru's Wednesday broadcasts and I've only recently become a member of Keiko's Yodel app service so it's impossible for me to provide a definitive answer to your question.

I would also be curious to know what those other Japanese artists supposedly talk about... I am not really familiar with Japanese artists aside from Kalafina so I don't know in which capacity they talk about the LGBT community/rights. Is this something they do because of personal interest or is it more along the lines of performative virtue signalling to follow trends? I feel like with celebrities and other people in the public eye it's probably the latter so it's not something I would necessarily want our girls to do. Other people might feel differently about this but I am not a fan of all this performative stuff which has sadly become a common occurrence in today's social media world. If you ask me, it comes across as super disingenuous. I don't need anyone to talk about any issue just because it is a hot topic at the moment.

If it is indeed a matter of personal interest, then yeah, I am all for it and I wouldn't mind if the girls did that. I believe the Japanese Netflix show "The Boyfriend" was a solid step in the right direction of a more authentic representation and examination of selected issues but it still remained quite easy to digest/surface-level (so there's room for improvement).

On that note, I would like to come back to something I mentioned earlier. This is where the "complicated/ambiguous" comes in. Not sure if you are aware of this but since the beginning of time, there have been many rumours of Keiko being a more or less closeted lesbian. Obviously, nothing has ever been confirmed and as a general rule, I do not encourage speculations but there's no denying that there have been countless situations throughout the years where one could easily put two and two together in order to draw some conclusions. I have actually written a long essay on Keiko's rumoured homosexuality so feel free to check it out! While I personally don't feel comfortable labeling anyone as anything, I am not at all surprised that so many people are indulging in this sort of speculation. So yeah, there has not really been any specific talk about the LGBT community but I would say all the hints Keiko has been dropping certainly qualify as something....?

#kalafina #reply #lgbt #keiko #gay keiko #speculation

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mshroom1e · 2 years ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ Trust Fall

type: headcanons

how the twst characters would react to the reader suddenly trying a trust fall on them

1.4k words

Characters: NRC Students

╰┈➤ Riddle

He'd be so caught off guard, he just freezes.

Prolly shreiks too.

You fall on the floor right away.

You get an "off with your head!"

He's just embarrassed and ends up feeling bad for letting you fall.

From then on, he refuses to walk behind you so you don't pull the same stunt again.

╰┈➤ Ace

He let's you fall.

But on purpose.

You fall flat on your back and he just laughs at you.

He helps you up though.

He's still laughing.

╰┈➤ Deuce

Panicks but manages to catch you somehow.

He thought you fell backwards by accident.

Stop you almost gave him a heart attack.

He asks if you're okay afterwards, and you tell him it was just a trust fall, and he's like "oh".

╰┈➤ Trey

He knows what you're up to.

Figures it's one of your usual antics and catches you with a fond chuckle.

Warns you not to try the same thing with Riddle though.

He can't help but to tell you to be careful so you don't get hurt if the person fails to catch you.

He's happy that you trust him enough to try a trust fall, though.

╰┈➤ Cater

He's actually quite quick to catch you.

Like Trey, he knows it's a trust fall.

He laughs and asks you to redo it but this time let him pull out his phone and record you do it.

Posts it under #friendshipgoals

(pls idk how to write this young man)

╰┈➤ Leona

He's like "dafuq" and sidesteps you.

Watches you fall.

It's not out of malicious intent. He just cannot be bothered to use any energy to catch you.

Looks at you on the ground, laughs to himself and walks away.

Calls you an airhead.

Congratulations, you played yourself.

╰┈➤ Ruggie

He's got swift reflexes, so he's another quick one to carry you.

Pay up, since he just saved your life.

You explain it was a trust fall but the cost still stands.

You pull out some madol from your pocket and hand it over to him while grumbling the entire time.

There goes your money for the next month that you managed to scrape together with blood, sweat, and tears. (no thanks to the silly bird man)

He smiles and does his little silly laugh when he gets the money off you, so maybe it was worth it.

╰┈➤ Jack

Goes to catch you but ends up fully lifting you off the ground instead.

He's ended up holding you up like Rafiki and Simba

Like Deuce, he thought you fell over and is hoping you're okay.

He's so nice 💔

You tell him it's a trust fall and he furrows his eyebrows.

Kinda feels embarrassed that he fully lifted you up now.

Awkwardly and silently puts you back on the ground with a straight face.

╰┈➤ Azul

He screams and jumps back

Or am I?

Jokes aside, he's got really good arm strength, so even if he's late to catch you, he still manages to hold you up.

He's so shook his glasses almost fall off and his face is going red from confusion.

Pretty quick to recover and uses it as a business opportunity.

He saved you from falling, so now give him your dorm building.

Theres no friends in the world of business

Sigma grindset haver /j

Mainly uses the businessman front as a cover.

He's still shook but trying to play it off.

Yk how he tries to appear smarter in front of teachers? Well, he's doing the exact same thing but tryna appear calm in front of you.

╰┈➤ Jade

He catches you pretty solid

You hear an ominous "fufufu..." from behind you.

Is disspointed you didn't pass out since now he can't use you as mushroom fertiliser /j

He flashes his usual butler style smile and stands you back on your feet.

Sorry but Jade always seems to be plotting something so I suggest you escape now.

He's already figured it was a trust fall, so no need to explain.

╰┈➤ Floyd

lmao

His reaction depends on his mood ig

If he's default Floyd, he fully picks you up and the next thing you know, you're trapped in a warm but gut crushing squeeze.

Picks you up simba style pt. 2 but it's intentional.

Pls tell me someone else also thinks his hugs would be comfortable.

He laughs with you coz ur so silly.

Puts you on the ground after a bit and ruffles your hair if you're shorter than him (he does that daily and you can't convince me otherwise)

You end up laughing too.

Watch out though, since he might pull the same stunt on you when you least expect it.

Start doing some arm workouts coz he's gonna be a hefty number to lift.

╰┈➤ Kalim

His carpet catches you.

You happen to be in his dorm and its nearby.

His younger siblings do stuff like trust falls all the time so he isn't surprised.

He's also happy you trust him enough to try one with him.

He smiles so brightly it hurts to look at.

After all, it hurts to look at the sun when it's shining.

╰┈➤ Jamil

Is so sick of your bs

Contemplates letting you fall, but he isn't feeling that mean today, so he guesses he can catch you.

Ends up catching you, but it's definitely not willingly.

Don't try it with him again coz next time, you're falling.

╰┈➤ Vil

bombastic side eye

criminal offensive side eye

He gives you the most judgemental, critical look that you even forget why you approached him in the first place.

Bro didn't even give you a chance to test out the fall on him.

Like that one auntie that silently judges you for existing.

He is not wrinkling his perfectly ironed clothes.

You do the walk of shame as you retreat.

Defeat.

╰┈➤ Rook

Man's already caught your before you start to fall.

He chuckles with his usual smile.

"Tres bien, Trickster!"

You tried to catch him off guard (an impossible task), but you're the one who got shocked instead.

╰┈➤ Epel

A quick, confused noise slips out as he catches you.

You almost hit the ground but he tried his best.

Tell him it's a trust fall and you left him so lost he needs the map.

Since there aren't many kids in the place he's from, he'd never heard of a trust fall until now.

He's glad you trust him, though, and has a small smile on his face for the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ Idia

He isn't even there.

You fall with nothing but thin air behind you.

sorry

╰┈➤ Ortho

He catches you right away and it's startling how strong he is.

You knew he'd be pretty strong, but you're still surprised a little.

He also thought you fell by accident but he's happy when you tell him it wad a trust fall.

Watch out though, since there's a close to 40% chance you'll fall on the floor if you tried it on somsone else.

He's just hoping you don't get hurt.

He's such a sweet little gummy worm <3

╰┈➤ Malleus

He instantly catches you with magic.

Genuinely thought you lost your balance.

Well done, now he's walking behind you for the next week to make sure you don't fall and hurt yourself.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he's so lost he needs the map 2.0

But he's intrigued

You're quite strange, Child of Man.

You explain its only done with people you trust (usually) and he's smiling for the rest of the day.

There's no storm clouds for the next week.

You've singlehandedly made his day.

╰┈➤ Lilia

Watches you with a knowing smile.

He knows what you're doing.

Still catches you anyway while chuckling.

Says something about how funny kids are these days and leaves to go do Lilia stuff. (idk I haven't read book 7 yet lmao)

╰┈➤ Silver

You're the one catching him.

He fell asleep mid conversation and now you're left to drag him over to a nearby bench so he can rest comfortably.

bro is majestic

Watching him sleep so peacefully makes you sleepy too and you end up falling asleep as well.

Your trust fall plan ended in a joint napping session.

Idk about you but that sounds like a win to me.

╰┈➤ Sebek

He catches you.

Thinks it would be a disgrace to his training if he didn't.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he gets all smug.

"Ha! You think I can be caught of guard by the ambush of a mere human??" He says but on the inside he's happy you trust him.

Won't say it out loud though so you're left with him talking your ear off about how humans are too reckless.

That's his way of telling you to be more careful next time.

He just didn't want you to get hurt either.

After all, he does care (I hope)

◁--《

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marvelettesassemblenow · 1 year ago

Text

Wrong Number

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female Reader

Summary: When Steve texted the wrong number, he started a friendship with you. Most of your talks are about your Corgi Bella, but then you find out who Steve really is

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: body shaming for Steve (don’t worry, other people make sure to tell Steve how beautiful he is), if you don’t like garlic I’m sorry – just imagine it is something else, some swearing

A/N: Texts in [ . ] are text messages

[I’m just asking because Sam begged me to ask you to bring your garlic dip to the barbeque. He won’t shut up or else I wouldn’t be bothering you.]

[I don’t know a Sam?]

[Haha, I’ll tell him that]

[No, seriously. I don’t know who you’re talking about.]

[Good one, Nat. You could have just said you wouldn’t bring it.]

[I’m not Nat... And tbh I don’t know who you are either. I think you have the wrong number

At least I hope Sam gets the garlic dip, if it helps]

You didn’t hear anything else from the unknown number and it had been a few days. When it was Thursday evening and you were bored and scrolled through your messages you saw the unknown number again and decided to send text.

[I hope Sam got his garlic dip!]

When there was no reply in the next minutes you put your phone aside and put more focus on the show running in the background. Then your phone was illuminated by an incoming text.

[He was very sad he didn’t get it. And he did complain all the time while he was still stuffing his face with my apple pie.]

[Wow, so I guess that dip must be very good then. Any chance I could get the recipe?]

[I doubt it. No one has gotten it out of Nat so far]

[What about your pie recipe?]

[Who knows, I might share one day]

[Well a girl can hope. I hope I didn’t bother you.]

[No bother, I’m glad you’re distracting me from some paperwork]

[Well then here’s something else to distract you]

Steve wasn’t sure if he should open the picture or not. He heard stories, but in the end his curiosity won, and he was rewarded. He looked at the cutest little dog who was sleeping on a rather big pillow.

He couldn’t help but gush about the dog and learned that she was yours, was called Bella and a corgi. You shared stories about her and he couldn’t help but ask more and more until he noticed that he should really finish writing his report. But talking to you was fun and so he decided to go to his room and call it a night. He would get up earlier in the morning to write the report.

He messaged you when you were taking a walk with Bella, telling you to be safe. It became a daily occurrence to talk to each other. He messaged you in the morning asking how Bella was, although he knew that she wasn’t with you. It was easier under the pretend to ask about your dog than to ask directly how you were doing. But it was always the second question he asked.

Talking to you was just easier – it might be because he was just Steve. No Captain America, no solider, just Steve who was talking to a nice woman about her dog. And your job, your family – you had been messaging for weeks now and he still learned something new about you.

You still tried to bribe him with pictures of Bella in exchange for the recipe for the apple pie. It wasn’t like it was a big secret recipe, but he enjoyed the banter and the pictures that came in through the day. The latest one was of the dog with her head turned to the side and a crown that almost fell from her head.

[I saw the crown and thought it was fitting as you always call her princess, but she seems to hate it 🙁] was the caption of the pic.

[She doesn’t need a crown to be my princess. Will you go on your walk soon?]

[Yup, just getting ready]

That was the last message he received. He didn’t like you being out on your own at that time of the evening. You had sent him a picture and it was dark, so he always texted with you. But this evening he didn’t receive an answer so for the first time he did something he had never done before.

The buzzing didn’t stop and you fished the phone out of your jacket, it showed an incoming call from Steve. It took you a second until you finally pressed the green button.

“Hello?” you asked. You hadn’t realized that you had stopped walking until Bella nudged your leg.

“You didn’t reply to my message, I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” you heard his voice – and the sound of it made you wonder - not for the first time - how he looked like.

“Were you worried?”

You didn’t expect him to answer with a clear yes. “I did, I needed to check in on my girls.” That did things to you, you weren’t able to handle yet. You played it off and talked about Bella instead, who was getting restless.

“I guess you can keep us company, Bella just wants to keep going.”

“Of course she is, she wants her mom home safe. She’s my good girl,” he said, and it was as if Bella heard his voice when she starred at you. Steve was on the phone with you until you told him you arrived home safely and put the phone on speaker where he talked to your dog while you took off your jacket.

“I have to go now and play with a grumpy cat,” he told you when you were back on the phone.

“You have a cat?” you asked astonished as he had never mentioned it before and only then did he admit that he had been at his best friend's place. You scolded him for talking to you instead.

“As I said I was worried about you. The punk wouldn’t dare to say anything, but Alpine might bite me if I won’t give her some cuddles now. Have a good night, sweetheart.” Before you could reply anything he had ended the phone call and you could only stare at your dog on shock.

“Well, that’s a new one.”

Tuesdays you helped at your local animal shelter. And that day there was a lot of talking and surprisingly many people.

“What’s happening?” you asked Amy when you signed in.

“A lot of people are here today because of the photo shooting. A few Avengers came by to take some pictures for a campaign to adopt more animals. Pretty good idea, but the day wasn’t as good. The photographer was a bitch. There really isn’t a better word for it. She was complaining the whole time, demanding and then she was a real bitch to Captain America. The man came here to do something good, for free might I add, and she looked him in the eye and said “I thought superheroes were supposed to be perfect. This is going to take so long to photoshop these arms with these stretchmarks all over.”

“She didn’t,” you gasped. “What did he say?”

“That poor man excused himself. He said he was sorry and opted to put on some more clothes. Can you imagine? What a crime!”

“Damn, now I wish I had been here. I would have ripped her a new one, this is no way to talk to other people. And especially not someone who risks his life for us. And who in their right mind would look at him and tell him he’s ugly?” You were getting upset and you weren’t even there. Amy asked you if you could take Daisy for a walk and let that information slip that she had been the dog that had been photographed with Captain America.

Daisy had gotten her name because of a white spot on her butt that looked like the flower and you were surprised that she hadn’t found a forever home yet as she was the sweetest dog you had ever met (but you wouldn’t say that out loud when Bella was near).

“I think I cheated.” Your heart stopped for a second before you remembered that he couldn’t be talking about you – as you weren’t a couple.

“You think you cheated?”

“Today I had – I saw a couple of puppies and I slipped and called the little girl princess and then I felt bad immediately when I noticed, and I just had to call and come clean and apologize to my princess. Of course, she’s the only one, but maybe she’ll understand if she sees her.”

“Did you call to apologize to my dog for calling another dog princess?” you concluded.

“I would have come over and gave her favorite treat and some cuddles if I could, so I hope this will be enough though.” There has never been a conversation about if the two of you should meet. An incoming picture distracted you though.

And this time you were sure that your heart stopped, because there was no way! No way that this picture happened today and that you were staring at the same puppy that had been in your arms not 3 hours ago. And had been in Steve’s too. “I’ll just... I’ll put you on speaker so you can apologize to Bella. I have to use the bathroom, I think.” You put the phone on the floor, told Bella – who let out a whoof when she saw you walking away, but decided to stay near the phone and not move at all from her place.

Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. You felt like a damn fool, but on the other hand – what was he supposed to say? Obviously he wouldn’t introduce himself as Captain America. And then you remembered what Amy had told you about that awful woman and you bet he had an awful day while you just let him alone with your dog on the phone.

“I’m back, sorry for disappearing and leaving you with my dog.”

“That’s alright, are you okay?”

“I am! What about you?” You pressed the phone closer to your ear.

“I’m okay too. Feel a lot better now that I’m talking to you,” he admitted, and you could hear that he really sounded more relaxed. “Okay, so I’m going to suggested something crazy here. How about we switch to a video call? You don’t have to show me yours, but you could see Bella if you want to. And me, if that’s what you want.” You must have been out of your mind to suggest that, but now that you knew who was on the other side of the phone, it just seemed fair.

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.”

“Let me change real quick, so I won’t be in my pj’s anymore. But I’ll put Bella on first.” You placed the phone in front of her dog bed and pushed the call button and when you could hear Steve’s voice again you quickly went to throw on a regular shirt and decided to stick with the pj pants. And you couldn’t do anything to hide the growing pimple on your face, so you wouldn’t be bothering about that either.

When you came back and picked up the phone Bella looked confused, then lost and followed you towards the couch where you were headed. In the end Steve had a good view of your dog and a not flattering angle of you. “So guess this is me then,” you said when the other line went still and you saw the black rectangle in the corner.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d look like that.” You face must have shown you confusion. “It’s nothing bad, its better, but like you imagine how the other person would look like when you’re talking to them and it isn’t that at all, but you’re … beautiful. Seriously, I knew you’d be because of everything you told me, but seeing it with my own eyes. I wish I could show you myself, but today... isn’t a good day.”

“That’s okay, I offered. You don’t have to do that, don’t feel pressured.” Bella made a noise as if she’d agree and a laugh was heard through your speakers in reply.

Minute by minute his mood improved; you could hear it in his voice. He was telling you about the cute dog and you felt like you kept something from him when you didn’t tell him that you knew Daisy. But then you’d give away that you knew who he was and he wasn’t ready to share that. He had only told you he didn’t have a good day and that talking to you had made it better. You noticed that this was the first time he left Bella out.

“So what, you can gush about one corgi all the time, but when I take you to a corgi party, you’re all pouty?” Sam couldn’t believe it. Steve had been in a mood for a few days and Bucky and he thought this would cheer him up.

“Steve, did you see the one dressed up as Captain America?” Bucky was excitingly pointing somewhere in the distance. It seemed like he was having the most fun of the three of them. Steve couldn’t tell his friends that this made him kind of sad, because it made him miss you and your dog. The talking had fizzled out and you almost had no time to call or anything. You still sent him messages when you were on your walk (He just couldn’t reply in that moment because he was on a mission) and you sent him pictures of Bella, but it felt like something was missing since you had your video call.

But how could he tell you that he wasn’t just Steve, he was Captain America too?

“Steve, look at that one at your feet. It’s looking up to you.”

Steve looked down and there sat a Corgi. “Hey there,” he cooed and bend down. “Aren’t you a cute one?” The dog waggled its tail and flopped on its back, so Steve started to rub the belly. “Are you lost?” he asked when he noticed the leash hanging loosely at the dogs side. “What’s your name pr- sweetheart?” He stopped himself, but he noticed the ears standing up when he almost let the petname slip.

Two things happened at the same time: While Steve looked at the name on the dog tag at the collar, someone shouted for Bella and the dog got back on its feet.

“Princess?” Steve asked at the same time you asked “Steve?” and then he said your name or more like breathed it. Bella let out some noises so no one would forget about her, while you and Steve were busy staring at each other, and he had stopped petting her.

The moment was broken by a man approaching. “Sorry, but could I take a picture of you and Oliver? I can’t believe we met the real Captain America!” Steve looked briefly at you, but you offered to take the picture. Bella refused to leave his side and so you took a picture with her at his feet, Steve with a forced smile and a dressed-up Captain America Corgi in its owner arms.

When the man left Steve looked apologetic at you. “I didn’t want you to find out like that!” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, I already knew,” you admitted and looked at the two people standing behind him. After a quick introduction they asked if it would be okay to pet Bella and you told them that she would be disappointed if they didn’t.

“Have you met Winter?” you asked Bucky who gave Bella the pets she so desperately wanted.

“Uh no? I don’t think so?”

“You have to meet her! I just met her and her owner and they are so nice! Winter is actually named after... well I guess you’ll find out. But I bet she would love to meet you! They wanted to get something to eat so you might find them there.”

When it was only the two (three) of you Steve apologized for not telling you sooner about his alter ego.

“It’s not like you need to walk around, telling everyone. I get it, Steve. I’m not mad! You told me about you and your friends, what you like and don’t like. You didn’t need to tell me about your job. And it wasn’t like I told you when I found out who you were either.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked when you stopped so Bella could sniff at a new friend.

“I thought you’d tell me when you’re ready. And I heard about the photo shooting at the shelter, so I thought this wasn’t the day to bring it up. And I want to tell you again,” you stopped and, with a bravery you didn’t know you had, took his hand in yours and only continues when he looked at you: “Don’t listen to that horrible woman. You’re very handsome and you’re such a beautiful person, don’t let other people tell you otherwise!”

A blush started to appear on his face, but he didn’t let go of your hand and in the end the three of you left the park with him texting his friends they shouldn’t wait for him. Talking to each other felt easy and you didn’t even know why you hadn’t really talked in the last weeks. Maybe it was because you felt insecure after that video chat.

But your friendship with Steve grew and now he was even accompanying you on your evening walks, which often ended with late night talks in your apartment. If Steve couldn’t come it was Bucky or Sam and one time Natasha stood in front of your door and introduced herself (That same night you also found a little note with some ingredients on it in your kitchen). Bella loved all of them and especially the one-time Bucky had a little companion with him.

“Interested in talking a walk with us?” he asked.

“Us?” you asked confused as you didn’t see Sam.

“Yeah, Winter and I were about to take a walk.“ Your eyebrows rose when you spotted the three-legged dog next to his side. “Just don’t ask, okay?” You promised but you would be asking Steve as soon as he was back from this mission! Walks with Bucky were kind of different, not as much was said as it would be with the other ones, but you somehow felt that in the non-talking you said a lot to each other.

“So, when are the two of you making it official?” he said randomly. He didn’t look at you and was instead watching Bella and Winter intensely.

“If Steve is interested in something more than friendship, he should make it known. I thought I had made it clear that I’m interested and if he isn’t taking the next step, I’m not pushing it into something it isn’t.”

“I guess I need to have a chat with that punk then.” Winter and Bella were exhausted from the impromptu playdate and while Bella crashed immediately when you opened the door, Bucky picked up Winter without a struggle, told you good night and made his way back out of the building.

The next time your doorbell rang you it was Steve in civilian clothes, but still with dirt in his face and his hair unkempt. “We need to talk!”

You couldn’t help yourself and you had to take a picture! The sight in front of you was just too cute. “Don’t stand there and join us!” Steve’s sleepy voice suddenly said, and you should have expected that he had noticed you lurking in the doorway. You quickly walked over and laid in the arm that your boyfriend held out for you.

“Did you like the picture you took?” he asked.

“Love it, actually.”

A few minutes later a notification popped up on your phone.

[Steve Rogers posted a picture]

This is real and even heroes aren’t perfect was the headline and it showed a picture of a shirtless Steve - stretchmarks and all - in bed with a corgi thrown over him and they looked at each other with love in their eyes.

Steves Instagram post made the internet go mad. Theories about who that dog was, what made him post after such a long time and then something so extremely personal. And no one was prepared for the chain reaction that followed:

Under the hashtag #HeroesAren’tPerfectEither and #AdoptDon’tShop followed pictures of the other Avengers. The Winter Soldier posted a picture of him standing in front of a dog with only three legs – and without his prosthetic arm. Many pictures more followed and the campaign, that wasn’t a campaign, was more successful than any other. More furry friends found their forever home, although Steve felt that in his case it had been Bella who had adopted him and showed him his forever home.

Masterlist | Library Blog

Reblogs, comments, asks or just a ramble mean the world to me <3

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers os #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff

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fozmeadows · 11 months ago

Note

hey. i think i'm going through a phase of self-hatred and… I don't know, of believing I'm not capable of anything. would you have any tips or books that approach this from an AFAB/trans perspective so I can cope? (it's not that I hate myself for being trans. I just have insecurities, anxieties and I don't know what to do to stop most things from seeming so discouraging, for lack of a better word.)

I'm sorry you're having a hard time! I don't have any book recommendations, and I'm not exactly an expert, but:

Where possible, try to focus on what you enjoy about the process of an action instead of worrying about the end result. A lot of anxiety comes from privileging a hypothetical future version of yourself ahead of the person you are in the moment, and while it's still good to have goals and aspirations for the future, that doesn't render your present self irrelevant, because that's who you have to be to achieve them.

To give a personal example: late last year, I was really disappointed with how little reading I'd managed to get done in 2023 particularly, but also over the pandemic. I'd bought all these awesome books that I really wanted to read, but I never seemed to get around to starting most of them, and meanwhile, I was spending hours of my life mindlessly doomscrolling Twitter and TikTok, which regardless of anything else is a really good way to depress yourself about the state of the world. So I sat down and thought about it, and I realized that the problem was how much pressure I was putting on myself about reading. I wanted so badly to finish books that I was psyching myself out of starting them in the first place, because each choice had to be Perfect, lest I pick the wrong book at the wrong time and waste twenty minutes or an hour or three reading something I might later set aside. And because I'd subconsciously set the stakes for starting a book so much higher than they needed to be, I'd end up dithering and scrolling social media to delay having to make a high-pressure choice at all.

In other words: I'd become so concerned about Future Foz's hypothetical dislike of a book I was yet to start reading that Present Foz would be scared to start it in the first place. I was forever privileging a version of myself that didn't exist and likely never would over the person I was now, and it was making me wildly unhappy, because it felt like I was failing at something I loved.

So my single New Years' Resolution became: to value myself and my time in the moment. If I catch myself scrolling for too long, I ask myself: is there literally anything else I'd rather be doing right now? Could I start a TV show, or a book, or a game, or write something, or message a friend, or have a bath? It doesn't matter if the activity goes anywhere long term; what matters is that I inevitably get more pleasure out of doing something than not. My time now matters, because I matter.

And suddenly, just from that one change? For the first time in I couldn't even say how long, I've read something every single day this year. In the whole of 2023, I read just 67 books; it's now the 30th of March 2024, and I've already finished 33. By giving myself permission to start things without the pressure to finish them, I'm suddenly finishing way more than when I was telling myself I had to finish everything, and I am vastly happier for it.

Is the world still a burning hellscape that daily makes me want to yeet a solid 80% of elected politicians globally into the sun? Yes. Am I still working on self-improvement in other areas of my life? Yes. Is it magically any easier being trans and queer in the current moment? No. But it helps to focus on who I am now, in this hour, in this minute, instead of worrying so much about whether some future version of me will think I spent this time badly that I don't use it for anything at all.

I don't know if this is helpful to your situation, and if it's not, I apologize for rambling. But it's a little change I've made lately that's helped me a lot, and I hope it might help you, too.

#foz answers things #self help #anxiety #self improvement #self care #reading

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batsplat · 7 months ago

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if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

#would an insane person write this #//#brr brr #batsplat responds #//st #//curst #//ht #//mt

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crooked-wasteland · 1 year ago

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How would you rank every HB episode from worst to best?

This took me some time to think on, but thank you for the ask.

So all the Helluva Boss episodes ranked worst to best (in my opinion):

The Circus

I have to place the season 2 premiere as the worst episode of the entire series, simply because it cemented the direction the story was going to go with all of the worst ideas floating to the top. The relationship mystery between Stolas and Blitz gets watered down to a childhood crush based on nothing. It is love at first sight, but then the writing performs gymnastics in order to justify Stolas’ attraction after the fact. It’s so painful in Seeing Stars and Oops how the writers really want us to believe that Stolas liked him as a person first and that is supposed to be shown in how Stolas thinks Blitz is funny when no one else does, but the series of events in the Circus will forever undermine that narrative. He finds Blitz funny because he is attracted to him. Not the other way around.

Aside from the issues with the overarching story, the entire structure of the episode fails. The idea of Chekhov’s Gun is one I believe holds merit as a fundamental tool. If you are going to introduce something like theft, acknowledge the danger of the event, repeatedly draw attention to the theft, and then just never mention any sort of natural conclusion to that plot point. If anything, Blitz returning to Stolas’ home 25 years later to do the exact same thing, necessitated a coming full circle moment of that particular plot point. The failure to identify even the most basic of narrative principles that was a solid through line of character, story and themes told me everything I needed to know about how the series was going to be handled.

Stolas’ song is a poorly-performed nonsensical word salad that I found lacked any cohesion to the character in the previous episode or the next. It’s an ugly song with maybe 2 decent verses where Stolas acknowledges that this was all playing pretend, but that eventually goes nowhere.

Additionally, Stella was officially ruined as a character, which ultimately ruined Stolas as a character. By not giving Stella depth, Stolas was also stripped of any depth or complexity. His reason for staying is dumbed down to “for the child”, and Stella’s motivation is thrown out the window in favor of “she’s awful and please don’t try to make her understandable, because then what if Stolas is held accountable for anything?” Stella is too important a character in Stolas’ story, to make her one dimensional is to make Stolas less interesting. Everything is interwoven in a story, pulling a thread in one place unravels the garment elsewhere.

In a single episode, it encompasses everything that is wrong with the series, past and future.

0/10

Seeing Stars

To be honest, I feel Seeing Stars is most people’s worst episode due to some sense of denial when the season premiered and expected the show to at least continue with some kind of coherent story/timeline. I don’t think it would be as hated if Medrano had tightened up the narrative and made Seeing Stars connect to Ozzie’s more.

However, I would still put it at number 2, even if it had. Mainly because Seeing Stars is the worst sense of characterization and dynamics I have ever seen. And when you are trying to sell a character-driven story, some kind of consistency is required. This episode cemented Loona as being an abusive, manipulative, and entitled “bitch” of a person. Octavia is written like she is 13, not 17. Blitz and Stolas have the darkest timeline where Stolas continues to sexualize Blitz after being told off in the last episode and seemingly acknowledging that he defined the dynamic without any input from Blitz. Then forces him on stage despite Blitz being on the verge of a panic attack. But most of all, it has Stolas and Blitz both completely forget why they are even in this situation, because they are supposed to be looking for Octavia.

There was no lesson Blitz needed to learn, if anything he needed to be instilled with more self esteem where possible. And Stolas already had this story arc done much better in Loo Loo Land. His character actively regresses to redo the exact plot thread, but worse. Much like The Circus, Seeing Stars set the stage for what we could look forward to in regards to the series from here on out, and the utter disrespect leveled at the original 6 episodes.

That’s not even counting how the episode is the exact same plot and story beats as Loo Loo Land, highlighting the extent of how creatively bankrupt the series is.

.5/10

Exes and Ohs

If it comes to personal most hated episode, it would be Exes and Ohs for me. The only reason it is number 3 and not number 1 is because it is a narrative cul-de-sac where the larger story is not affected by it at all.

However, it is still an objectively awful episode. Starting with the premise. The whole plot is a stolen South Park joke. It’s the Steal underpants episode, stretched out into something longer, and not nearly as funny. If you are wholesale ripping off another show, that’s plagiarism. This episode is creatively bankrupt, shouldn’t exist, has no purpose and serves no benefit. People try to argue that it has value due to Moxxie’s backstory, but what does it even serve? Sure, I know it now, but not a single character does. Millie doesn’t even find out. Even moreso, Millie’s entire connection to Chaz goes nowhere and is for nothing. We never know how, when or why she dated Chaz, it's shown she hates him, but she doesn’t even kill him. The whole episode would have ended exactly the same with Crim killing Chaz once he realized the shark demon was lying about having money.

It’s not good when the major complaints of the episode are actually what is saving it from being the worst episode.

2/10

Musical Special

The retconning of this episode, changing who Fizz was as a child to try and justify his uselessness in Oops retroactively is beyond frustrating. There is so much I could go on about in terms of character, but just focusing on this episode.

Mainly, the mildly perturbing extent Medrano goes to hetero-normalize her queer relationships. Every single relationship in the series is stereotypically designed as “Protector” and “Protected”. Stolas, Fizzarolli, and Moxxie are all characters who require constant support and protection from other factors in the plot.

Stolas needed to be protected from Striker. Moxxie needs to be protected from most things in his plots. Season 1 it was the fish monster, Striker, the agents, and finally Ozzie and Fizz. Season 2 we have him needing to be defended from his father and Chaz.

This episode it's all about Fizzarolli and him needing to be defended from his crippling low self-esteem that is only relevant to have him needing to be saved from something. The flashback serves to further retcon Fizz’s personality because a strong and confident performer doesn’t need to be saved from anyone, and in order to have the codependent romance where Fizz needs Ozzie, we need to fundamentally weaken him as a person. It’s a special episode, so the argument that it doesn’t need to exist is rather moot. Regardless, the characters and story are worse off for its addition to the narrative.

2/10

Queen Bee

Another special episode, so the argument of narrative value is once again disregarded. I dislike this episode for how one dimensional every female character is in this story. It highlights all the ongoing issues with misogynistic writing. Loona’s character is a wildly swinging pendulum from being antagonistic towards Blitz to being endeared with little motivation and ultimately being reduced to the caretaker of men. When she and Bee get into an argument, she only deescalates when she sees Tex be uncomfortable. The initial hostility itself is founded on nothing, Loona is immediately resentful of Bee because she’s attractive and people like her, specifically Tex. And her being sweet towards Blitz is entirely based on the fact that her relationship to him makes her look good due to his accomplishment of beating Beelzebub in a drink-off. It doesn’t read sincere, but rather she would look bad if she didn’t take care of him after identifying him as her “dad” when it suited her.

This entire episode works to assassinate Loona’s character and any hope of her being likable and growing. Everything about her motivation is purely selfish and consistently reinforced in big ways, so moving forward it will be very hard to realistically prove she does anything for not her own benefit.

The song was nice for about one minute, then it became unbearably repetitive.

1.5/10

Western Energy

This episode was altered and rewritten, which doesn’t inherently make it bad. It’s just that it was changed due to fans pointing out the glaring plot hole that is why Stella would want to kill Stolas when a divorce would benefit her more. Instead of critically assessing that question and focusing more on world building to create a logical justification for Stella’s actions, the writers shrug their shoulders and just can’t think of anything. It’s a special form of fridge horror as a writer to realize the major plot that was intended to push Blitz and Stolas closer together was so underdeveloped that when at all questioned resulted in the entire plot being unwritten. It’s transparently bad writing, but worse yet is that it is lazy.

This episode is what I use to show an example of how fans inject headcannon and plot into the series that the creators have no interest in spending the energy on. This isn’t James Cameron’s Avatar where there is a massively rich world around a lackluster story that has been crafted with such detail that it feels alive. Helluva Boss, and in extension Hazbin Hotel, have no world building and resort to the most superficial answers to any narrative roadblock at the expense of the characters and understanding their motivations. It shows resentment for not just the audience, but writing as an artform.

3/10

Ozzie's (with season 2 context)

I had to put Ozzie’s on the list twice due to this episode in specific having vastly different reads and reception before and after season 2 premiered. After The Circus, the episode loses all continuity with the original season. Stolas is pining and lovesick over Blitz, he doesn’t actually care about his wife and daughter leaving him. He just wishes more than anything to have his rugged peasant return his affections.

It is a plummet of quality and character in this episode that only comes to fruition with the understanding that Stolas has had an unreciprocated crush for two and a half decades.

With the context of season 2, Stolas doesn’t actually care about his daughter and how his affair, the marriage falling apart, their status, etc. affected her and his family. He only cares about the little boy he got a crush on, who his father rented out like a Lexus and then 25 years later Stolas demanded sex from. Stolas has a complete personality change and isn’t at all who he was the entire series to this point. Everything you thought mattered to him doesn’t, the ways we have come to expect this character to react to things is suddenly entirely different. His expectations are unexplainable and so far out to left field than what we previously established. This is one of the worst written episodes based on the major retconning of a keystone character and no effort being made to connect these changes in the narrative.

This was the warning shot we didn’t know we were given.

1/10

Spring Broken

Spring Broken to Unhappy Campers are the range of utterly ambivalence I have.

The song is poorly incorporated into the episode. Verosika isn’t ever fleshed out. Tex and Loona start off cute, and you can see a starting point of a dynamic between Loona and Blitz and you want her to treat him better while also recognizing that he infantalizes her constantly and doesn’t ever treat her like the adult she is. Could have been really good writing if it went anywhere. This episode establishes Loona abuses Blitz and does so intentionally because it gets her her way. It isn’t malicious, but immature and incredibly cruel, and there is a desire to see her become a better person and grow from this point.

Too bad.

4/10

C.H.E.R.U.B

I know this episode gets a ton of criticism for being a joke/filler episode that goes too long. And that is absolutely correct. However it is still better in that being filler, it is not seeking to be anything more than it is. It is just some dumb fun with a few jokes that come anywhere close to landing. But it doesn’t harm the characters or their stories, unlike the rest of the list up to this point

3/10

Oops

This episode is a hard one to place because I consider the first 7 of this list to be bad episodes. Then 8-12 are those that aren’t good with varying scales of enjoyment on my part. However I think Oops is neither good nor enjoyable. But it has some good story ideas that deserve some credit, regardless of how the writing and pacing consistently tries to undermine them.

The scene of Blitz and Fizzarolli in the alleyway is contrived and feels confused, but it does manage to land some points such as Fizz’s insecurity of being owned by his partner (too bad that goes nowhere and is immediately ignored in favor of Fizz NEEDS Ozzie, so essentially ownership is good actually) and Fizz hanging Blitz’s insecurity and guilt over his head.

The forced engagement, rapid fire pacing, and immediate resolution thoroughly dismantles any good points the episode started to set up. I have to admit the animation is pretty solid, people worked very hard on this for less pay than this quality deserves. But this episode struggles to find a place it belongs on my list because. It almost sees the light only to bury its head in the sand writing-wise.

2/10

Unhappy Campers

Unhappy Campers sits in the same pool with Oops and how it is objectively a terrible episode, but the portions involving Blitz and Barbie are genuinely interesting and I think relatively well done when compared to the rest of the season. Millie has some fun moments herself, though the whole portion of the episode surrounding her and Moxxie could have been cut and it would only serve to elevate the material overall. So even if she is the best part of the worst portion of the story, it still isn’t something I deem worth salvaging.

It would have been an excellent 5 minute episode.

2/10

Murder Family

It’s the first episode. It did well reintroducing the characters from the pilot. It had enough intrigue to see where it would go and how it would expand the world and characters. It. Was genuinely fun and impressive for a YouTube animation, with horror notes and black comedy. There was a sense of character that we could maybe get to know over time and see them struggle and change. It started off very superficial, which was fine.

The blank canvas of what could have been.

5/10

Ozzie's (Before season 2)

Having to remember Ozzie’s premiere after an entire season of thinking we were getting to know the characters, their dynamics, personality, wants, etc. So the personality change in Stolas is given more leeway as LooLooLand set up that he really wished he could find love and his wife and daughter leaving has changed his routine to the point he is in a depression. It even seems Stella took the staff with her in the separation and he’s genuinely all alone.

So him sitting in front of a television asking why nobody will love him makes sense and doesn’t feel out of character when given the room to rationalize and try to piece together the character from past instances. Additionally, him becoming overjoyed at Blitz calling him out is just as easy to rationalize away. I recall watching the episode and interpreting that Stolas was needy, desperate and earnest, not for Blitz, but just in general. And Blitz making himself available to Stolas is why Stolas tries so hard to make this pretend date legitimate. It also explains Blitz’s own utter disinterest in the scenario.

Ironically, looking back, Blitz feels like an Audience insert with how utterly confused and dismissive he is of Stolas’ targeted affection. He sees their relationship like the audience does: one of convenience and mutual benefit. Blitz calling Stolas out is him cashin in on this messed up coercive sex deal they have. Him calling Stolas out and using him for his own gains is only seen as fair in his eyes. And Stolas’ attempts to legitimize the date is a continuation of his own hedonistic selfishness. So when Stolas tries to leave Blitz or otherwise removes himself by covering his face, Blitz’s anger and resentment is valid. Because there’s a lot of confusion taking place at the moment, but Stolas is responsible for all of it and instead runs away.

The exact same escapist behavior that ended up with him in bed with Blitz in the first place.

This is all really compelling drama and without the codependent neediness of the second season, it ties together in what feels like a real season finale for the characters. Everything up to now was a prologue, an introduction of the world, characters and conflicts. Ozzie actually took the characters and faced them off against each other directly. Showing all of their worst traits and building more intrigue to Blitz’s past and his relationships. This was an episode of great potential when it was first released.

7/10

Loo Loo Land

I’ll be honest, the more I think on this episode the more I believe its placement is more out of pettiness than actual quality. While a song that made me invested at the time, You Will Be Okay is a poorly written musical song. Specifically in how it fails to actually build on the themes we were having presented. Because if you really listen to it, the song foreshadows how little Stolas actually cares about Octavia.

The only part of the song that builds character is the one when he speaks of how his marriage is cold and loveless and how “all [his] stories have been told, except for one.” Which one would think that untold story has something to do with Octavia. He’s singing the song for her, to her. He’s presumably alluding to the fact that she’s his only joy in life.

But the very next line is talking about Armageddon. Like the end of everything, the death of the universe, some heavenly judgement. That’s why everyone and their off brand YouTube clone was talking about Stolas dying at some point in the series. Because the song fails to adequately communicate the character and his feelings and how that wraps into the plot. It’s a pretty song to the ears, but fails as a musical.

Additionally, I feel I may still have such a soft spot for this episode in how it often contradicts the current direction the story has attempted to go. Details, dialogue, timeline discrepancies, all of that has continued to hinder the second season in trying to retcon the entire story to this lesser version of itself and Loo Loo land as an episode is just so tightly written that it has become a thorn.

All the portions with Blitz and RoboFizz are great. Great character, great foreshadowing (to nothing unfortunately), great pacing. Those scenes have some legitimately funny jokes. Stolas stole the show it seems, much to the series detriment, but the real stellar parts of the episode were for once the actual main character.

6/10

Truth Seekers

This episode would have been my favorite due to Blitz’s bad trip and the animation involved throughout. However, the fact that the show has entirely dropped the relevant and interesting portions of the episode, overused and abused Stolas’ demon design since this episode, and the animators have since been confirmed to not be paid fairly for the work they do, this gets to be number 2.

Like Loo Loo Land, Truth Seekers is a primary source of contradiction in the new direction the story has gone and a constant reminder of how little work has been put into the narrative. It’s one of the strongest episodes of the series as a whole, but it has been almost entirely retconned.

I have seen some mention of the agents returning to the story and if that does come to pass, this will be hilarious in trying to reconcile what parts of Truth Seekers is canon and what isn’t any longer. And the realization that all the best parts are the ones ending up on the cutting room floor.

7/10

Harvest Moon

Striker was an intimidating figure. Genuinely. There was a real sense of weight to this episode in the animation and visual storytelling. It’s a solid episode for what it is and far and above better than even Truth Seekers because it required Medrano and her staff to actually address the episode and make obvious efforts to retcon it. That is how solid an episode this is.

Stolas is not too creepy and dominating, but nor is he seen as the delicate princess who is always crying over some guy who doesn’t return his feelings. He is fun, and it starts the nudge towards maybe something a bit more amicable on Blitz’s end.

Millie absolutely deserved more time for her character seeing as they were staying with her family and she having an episode of standing by her husband and defending her choices in who she loves would have been far more engaging than Murder Family pt. 2, Moxxie lacks confidence and self esteem forever and always.

The song was so inconsequential. It was a funny segue with Striker basically upstaging Moxxie at every turn, but that doesn’t actually go anywhere when in regards to the plot overall.

And Stella putting a hit on her husband, to his face, was hilarious and would have been so interesting to have seen it played more than a joke. Like Stolas knows she wants to kill him, and he is just vaguely fine with that. Maybe thinking his letting her try to kill him would have her stay and not file for divorce. Have it been this macabre comedic sitcom where she’s always trying to kill him and hates his guts for being a subpar husband, but he takes it as some kind of tit-for-tat and plays along with it. She gets to send assassins after him, he gets to have sex with his rugged assassin imp. It’s a ridiculous level of absurdity that still allows for all the characters to be dimensional.

That got a little away from me there. Basically, this episode was the strongest overall. Animation wise, writing wise, story potential wise. This episode is the most solid Helluva Boss episode.

7.8/10

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #vivienne medrano #vivziepop #helluva boss criticism #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism #helluva boss

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lumine-no-hikari · 3 months ago

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #354

I slept through my phone alarm for 23 whole minutes. And since I only gave myself half an hour to get ready to begin with, I ended up needing to get ready for work in record time. I put my hair in a bun and got dressed and got all my stuff together quickly enough that even though I woke at 8:23am, I was out the door and heading to work by 8:40am.

Pretty proud of myself for that, actually. And I made it to work in time, no problem. Still, I wish that the inside of my head didn't look like this for 17 solid minutes:

...Ultimately, no harm done, though.

I guess I must have really been feeling like crud yesterday; it's not like me to sleep through an alarm. Normally, I wake up at least 5 minutes before my alarm goes off. It's very bizarre.

...Oh well.

Aside from doing the usual things like bagging and labeling breads and rolls, I was also tasked with making scones!! Making scones is a lot like making muffins, except you use the big muffin scoop, and kinda just... splorp them onto a baking tray covered in parchment paper. Like this:

...It's harder than it looks. At least for me, anyways. The dough for the scones is kinda tough; even the giant industrial stand mixer has a hard time mixing it together; the dough tends to kinda just clump around the center of the mixing paddle, and you gotta stop the machine and kinda scrumble it around with your hands a little and then restart it. Otherwise, you get a batter that's blue on the outside and not at all mixed on the inside. Funky and unpleasant, for sure.

But still, I try to level off the scoop even with tough dough. It requires a little more strength to do repeatedly than I currently have. But that's all right. Once all the scone dough is plopped onto the baking sheet, you dust the top with sugar...

...The sugar is hard to see, but it's there, I promise! Haha...

I was so tired after filling up a bunch of cookie sheets with these that I didn't even think to take a picture of them after the first set was done baking. I'm sorry about that. But I did remember to grab some salmon after I got done with my shift. I went home and put it away in the fridge for later use; today, I was supposed to meet with a friend that I made on the friend-making app. This will be the second time we've gotten together for bubble tea at Eggcellent! His name is Ja, and he's got a background in psychology and nursing! And he writes books, too!

...I was really glad that he still talks to me and that he still wants to hang out. Most of the people I've met on this app, sadly, decided to bail shortly after figuring out that I have less than zero interest in casual or quick romance or physical intimacy.

...Actually, I feel pretty intense disgust at the idea of getting romantic or sexual with someone I don't know well. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. Like.

...First of all, I'm not entirely sure I even know what romance is. I go watch movies and cuddle and go out to eat with my friends fairly regularly. I'm there to support them and talk to them and help them through their problems. Like... to me, this is all just friend stuff. This isn't reserved for lifepartners, in my head.

As far as physical intimacy goes... I can't do that with someone unless I know them extremely well – well enough to know without a shadow of a doubt that I can accept them for all that they are. It's not about the gratification of the senses, it's not about consuming the other person or about being consumed by them, and it's not about any exchange of power, the way most other people seem to like to do it. In my head, it's a gift – an act of trust, respect, and vulnerability that can only ever be done if I feel 10,000% safe and certain with the other person. It's only after that sense of trust and safety and thorough knowing occurs that I can feel any desire whatsoever to celebrate with worshipful adoration the vessel that allows their soul to hang out with me in this place. And even then, they also have to want that and to want to reciprocate that before I'll want anything to do with it at all.

I have a lot of barriers between me and developing those kinds of feelings for someone. And I like it that way, because it prevents me from getting closely involved with people who seek only to use, exploit, control, or consume, or abuse me. And it prevents me from getting closely involved with people I'm simply not compatible with, too. And both of these are very good things.

Sadly... I've found that I've been being matched with people who seem to think that “polyamorous” is synonymous with “easy to get in the pants of”. And this is despite the disclaimers that I've put up, saying explicitly that it will take at least 6 months of consistent contact with a person (and my mind has to evaluate them as “safe”, “truthful”, and “genuinely kind” by the time those 6 months elapse) before I'll even be vaguely willing to consider the possibility of any kind of close relationship with them. I guess some people consider this boundary as a challenge to be overcome rather than a statement of fact, and it's fucking lame as hell. And as you might surmise, I'm finding that a decent number of people I've “matched” with fall into that category.

This is all just a really long way of saying that, “I'm overjoyed that Ja didn't bail after it became clear that we're definitely not going to boink anytime soon, if ever.” Because literally almost everyone else bailed after they realized that they're not gonna fucking change my mind about the required conditions.

Basically the only way to get into my pants is to begin talking to me and getting to know me without any initial interest in getting in my pants. I feel like if someone is getting to know me while wanting to get into my pants, then they're getting to know me for all the wrong reasons. Their motives become suspect to me, and if their motives are suspect, my brain will immediately evaluate them as “unsafe”, “untruthful”, and “disingenuous”. And once a person gets that evaluation within my head, it's next to impossible to reverse it. I don't trust easily (despite appearances), and once that trust is broken, it's almost impossible to get it back.

Well anyhoot. I got a bubble tea – houjicha with rose syrup, barley bits, tea jelly, sago, and cream cheese foam!! Want some?

We talked about his novel, and his new method of writing it. And we talked about recovery from abuse and the strides we've both made. And then we started talking about the mechanics of cults (abusive family systems and Nazis and the KKK are all cults, or at very least, cult-like). And then J popped by during his break, and we talked some more about cults and possible ways of fostering community for people in cults who wanna not be in cults anymore (lots of humans are literally hard-wired to choose “community” over “morality”, and that's why these things happen...).

Ja does not seem to feel “threatened” by the presence of J in the same way that other friends I've tried to make have. Thank goodness for that. Thank goodness.

J brought me home after Ja had to go to visit another friend, and then J''s break was over and he had to go back to work. I remembered that I hadn't eaten any solid food yet (bubble tea doesn't count), and it was like 3 or 4pm, so I steamed that salmon I got from the grocery store:

...And then I made a bowl of yums while I waited for the salmon to steam!!!

...I wish I could share any of it with you.

Oh!!! And!!! The dirt specifically formulated for pumpkins arrived today!!

...I hope it works really nicely! I think I gotta get some plant gravel before I can transplant it, though; it came with a weird self-watering pot, I guess??? And I guess it needs gravel in order to work, for some reason.

...I have very little experience with growing things. But I still want our pumpkin friend to thrive.

Speaking of which!!! It's getting a 5th leaf!!! Check it out!!!

...I wonder how quickly I'll have to change it to a bigger pot! Hm!!

Oh, and... our garlic friend is really sprouting up nicely, too:

I wonder how they'll look as they get bigger...!!!

...I'm a little worried, though. Apparently, pumpkin roots can get up to 6 feet deep into the ground, and spread out up to 17 feet from the center of the plant. What if I need a really big pot!!! Oh no!!!

...Well. I found this video of a person growing pumpkins in containers outdoors. So maybe it could work indoors, too. Maybe. Here:

youtube

...Maybe it could work. But I'm not sure where in my house I'm gonna put it. And I don't know how I'll prevent my cats from chewing on it...

...Spray the leaves with cayenne pepper, maybe...?

...Sephiroth, I have no idea what I'm doing. So wish me luck, okay...?

Well. I suppose that's about all I've got for today. Thanks for listening to my various prattling, haha...

I love you. And I'm cheering for you to grow and thrive, too. So please stay safe out there. Please make good, kind, and loving choices while you're out and about and doing your things.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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thedeerman · 11 months ago

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Do You Want to Know?

Hey all, I've been writing nonstop because im obsessed with these stupid idiots and im so excited for whats coming up!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Ch5: Realize

Alastor woke up earlier than he’d like. A lot earlier. But… He woke up. Which meant he fell asleep. He tried to think of falling asleep the night before, vaguely remembering tossing and turning late into the night. But at some point, for the first time in days (weeks?), the radio demon had at least a few hours of solid rest. Alastor sighed. A deep, heavy, appreciative sigh. I don’t know how it happened, but bless the sins it did. He had no fretful dreams. No sudden, panicked waking. No feeling like there was still a hole torn into his chest.

The demon shook himself awake, not allowing his little bit of rest to be spoiled by thinking of how unrestful he’d been recently. Don’t ruin a good thing, he thought as he prepared for the day. He picked up the envelope on his desk on his way out and made his way toward the kitchen to make coffee. His shadow followed wordlessly, seeming to smile wider than it had in days. Alastor ignored it, figuring maybe the thing had been tired too. Does it get tired…? He wasn’t sure. He’d never thought about it before.

Coffee was made, and the daily chore board was still out and displayed in the meeting room. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but it looked like the board had been updated. Curiosity led the radio demon into the room to get a closer look. No senseless chores with Lucifer today, thank the stars. Only his regularly scheduled hotel running nonsense. He went to turn away, but his eyes caught something before he could. A name. Lucifer. What’s he going to be doing today…? Alastor stopped himself suddenly. This is enough. This needs to stop. He cringes, remembering the contents of the letter that he had written last night, before getting some well needed rest. Why was his mind so frustratingly stuck on Lucifer recently? Alastor skimmed over the schedule again and decided that the morning meeting wasn’t important today. Nothing was important today. There was one place and one place only that he needed to be if he was to fix this, and it sure as shit wasn’t under the same roof as Lucifer.

Alastor waited until Charlie made herself known to excuse himself for the day. The princess seemed disappointed but understanding, as always. He patted the girl on the head before handing her his daily envelope and taking his leave.

Lucifer’s morning was uneventful. Really uneventful. As in, out of the two most noticeable beings in the building, only one was present for their morning meeting. There were plenty of sinners in the hotel, but as far as Lucifer’s fleeting attention was concerned, the only souls that mattered were Charlie and Alastor.

Lucifer stops mid-stride at that thought. What in the absolute fuck? This was getting to be… too much. Like, genuinely honestly too fucking much. The king of hell had spent a lot of time alone. His wife had left him decades ago, taking Charlie with her. After the loss of the only light in his eternal life, he didn’t really get out much. Depression took over, he spent day after day working on silly little rubber duck toys (okay, maybe he still does make them here and there, what of it?) and there were times when literal years went by without so much as touching another living soul. That screws a guy up, right?

Lucifer continued aimlessly wandering down the long, empty halls, letting himself reason that this was all just a response to some kind of mental illness or something. It’s not like a mentally healthy individual would want anything to do with Alastor… But then his mind does what his mind does. It spiraled. And by the time he’d looped around the entire ground floor of the hotel, he was already wondering if Husk would make him a breakfast cocktail. Husk… Suddenly, the king gets an idea. It might not be a good idea, but it’s an idea nonetheless. He put the idea aside, letting it simmer a bit before deciding on it. For now, he was going to go back to his room to read today’s letter.

Once he got to his tower, Lucifer carefully pulled the papers out of his pocket. He glanced over today’s writing prompt first, already wondering what question would put Alastor at the forefront of his mind yet again. Well, aside from the question of where he’d gone off to early this morning. Not your business. Not your problem. The king looked over the mostly empty page. On the top, the prompt read: “Name one thing that you assumed about your person but have since realized that you were wrong about.” Lucifer let a few stray thoughts run through his mind. I assumed a lot about him. Some of it was right, like… he’s an asshole. But some of it was wrong, like… Lucifer glanced at the radio on his shelf, thinking again of the calming music that he fell asleep to the evening before. The angel was too deep in his own thoughts to get this done right now. He turned his attention to the sealed letter addressed to him. Tearing and tossing the envelope onto the floor, he slowly opened the perfect square inside. Lucifer’s eyes ran over the words. It said:

“Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.”

One thing that I’ve found interesting about you has been your sudden dedication to the hotel. You weren’t around before the attack, but ever since, you’ve been here every single day. A second thing that I find interesting about you is that you tend to walk most places, even though teleporting would be easier. The third interesting thing that I’ve noticed about you is your new bowtie.

The color suits you.

If Lucifer’s jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. The first point stung a little, the awful guilt he felt over not being in Charlie’s life up until now was still pretty fresh. But he takes a moment to also acknowledge that it mentions his continued dedication since getting here. The angel shrugged at that, okay, so that part isn’t ALL bad… and moves on to the next point. It was true, he did walk most of the time. He hadn’t realized that anyone noticed. Walking gave him a few minutes to process going from someplace comfortable and private to going someplace filled with other troubled, tortured, miserable souls. It was a soothing routine. And that brought him to the final point in the letter… It was… a compliment! A straight up, no nonsense compliment, no hidden meaning that he could find, just a genuine nice thing being said about him.

Lucifer glanced at the corner of his desk, locking his eyes on the two perfect little squares that sat there. He opened each of them up and read all three of them, one by one. First,

One thing I admire about this person is his raw power. It has a lot of potential. Another thing I admire is his determined unwillingness to back down from a challenge.

Next,

One thing I am curious about is your absence throughout the day. Aside from scheduled meetings and chores, you almost always seem to be missing.

And finally,

The color suits you.

The fallen angel read the notes over and over, and noticed that the first letter was formatted differently from the others. Like the writer was answering the question directly to whoever had asked, rather than to the person intended to read it. Lucifer stared at the pages like they would eventually give in to his questions, telling him exactly who was writing to him. Not knowing who he was assigned to didn’t bother him much before, it was a gentle curiosity at best. But now, this person complimented him. There had to be some ulterior motive, but how? How could someone manipulate his feelings about them when he didn’t even know who they were? People didn’t just give compliments to him. Not even his own wife (ex wife…) gave out free compliments. His mind flashed to his typical, pre-mixed mess of anger and depression that always took over when he thought of Lilith, but it was amazingly short lived. Lucifer didn’t let his thoughts take hold and drag him into an ex-wife shaped emotional breakdown. He managed, somehow, to break free of the thoughts almost as soon as they started. He looked down at his new bowtie and then back at the final page in front of him. His cheeks warmed up noticeably as he again read the line at the bottom.

The color suits you.

Several minutes of silence later, Lucifer remembers the idea he had earlier. He decides that he doesn’t actually have much of anything to lose and opens a portal down to the hotel bar.

Cannibal Town was one of the more pleasant areas of Hell, and all credit was due to the overlord ruling over the territory. She was tall, sharp, wise, and kind. She was also one of Alastor’s most trusted confidants. As the radio demon pushed the door in front of him open, Rosie’s head turned towards the sound. She immediately lit up at the sight of her dear friend, rushing over to greet him. “Alastooor! I wondered when you would stop by again!” He nodded, and quickly said, “Rosie, dear, do you have a moment?” The cannibal overlord’s smile widened as she rushed her visitor into the small sitting area in the back of the shop. It was closed off from the rest of the building and Rosie had made it nice and private. Alastor sat at the table, as he had many times before, lost in his thoughts. His thoughts about…

Rosie interrupted his wandering mind with “Are ya hungry? Want a little something to nibble on?” As much as Alastor typically loved Rosie’s assortment of fingers and legs and whatever else she may have gathered up, he just couldn’t find his appetite. “No thank you, but I do appreciate it.” Then he added, “I’ve come to ask for some advice.”

Rosie left the snacks where they were and went to the table to sit across from her friend, bringing only a small tea cup along with her. Alastor could feel her black, endless eyes watching him, quietly, as he formed his next thought. Once he could find the words, he leaned across the table just a bit, as if someone would be listening in. “I’ve been experiencing some… problems.”

“What kind of problems, hun?”

Alastor’s smile was strained, almost a snarl, as he thought about the past few weeks. His sleeplessness, the flashbacks, the panic, and of course… “Lucifer.”

“And what has the king done now to deserve such a reaction?”

Alastor closed his eyes for a moment, trying to mold his thoughts into words. “Nothing. He’s been very… civil” the demon starts. “But… There's something else.” With a heavy sigh, he began explaining the princess’s new activities to Rosie, and that he was being forced to write anonymous letters to the devil. He went on, describing his inability to sort his thoughts on the fallen angel. At first all Alastor wanted was for him to leave. His very presence jeopardized all of Alastor’s plans, ones that he had painstakingly put together over the course of months. He told her about his contradicting thoughts, how he wanted to be far away from the king, but also as close as possible. How he couldn’t get the idiot out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He told her what he had written in the letters, how all he could think of the night before was that the angel was actually listening to his radio broadcast, how looking down at the wide eyed king made his dead heart beat louder.

Rosie listened in silence, sipping her tea and dunking a severed finger into the hot liquid before biting into it. She waited patiently as Alastor continued.

“That isn’t all. I’ve been experiencing these terrible flashbacks… From the battle.” He took a moment to remind himself not to let the anxiety take over. “I keep seeing it again and again. I can’t sleep. I can’t even walk down an empty hallway without being strangled by my own memories.”

Rosie spoke up. “I didn’t realize the invasion had affected you like this…” Her frown was quickly replaced with a gentle smile. Then she asked, “Is there anything that helps?” This made Alastor pause. After a moment, he admitted that the previous night, he actually slept for a few peaceful hours. For the first time in weeks. But he couldn’t fathom why.

When he looked up, the overlord in front of him had a mischievous smile on her face. She was trying to suppress it, but it was obvious that she was failing. “Now Alastor. Didn’t you mention that you spent the evening thinking about Lucifer and how he’s been tuning into your show?” The radio demon was still. He stared into the black holes that were Rosie’s eyes, confused. She let out a sweet, giddy laugh. “Alastor, honey. I’ve known you for a long time. A long time. And I genuinely never thought this would ever happen. But who am I to deny what’s clear as day in front of me?” Alastor was getting uncomfortable, but only slightly. He forced himself to take a breath and looked again at Rosie.

“I find suffering just as fun as anyone else in Hell, but even I am lost at your response to my… problems.” Rosie looks at him with a knowing look in her nonexistent eyes.

“Okay, listen. First off… with the battle. You’ve never been one to run from a fight unless it’s looking dire. So I suppose I’m right in assuming that you got hurt pretty good?” Alastor gripped his microphone protectively, willing his mind to keep him here, in Cannibal Town, in front of Rosie. “Yes” is all he says.

“Well, that fact isn’t going to change. What’s happened is done and over. But sometimes in a near double-death experience… Well, physical wounds aren’t the only ones that need time to heal, you know?” Alastor took a moment to consider this. There were very few times in his life or death where he felt so helpless. He didn’t remember dying. The bullet that killed him had gone straight through his brain and his death was over before Alastor even knew it had started. The only other time previous to the invasion where he felt so helpless was…

He forced his mind away from the thoughts he felt beginning to rise to the surface. Another unhealed wound, the demon thought to himself. He was silent for a long time, and then let out a sigh. “I suppose you may be right. Perhaps this will pass in time.” Rosie’s smile grew again.

“Now, with your other little-” she chuckled at the height joke, “issue.” Alastor leaned forward, his mind now firmly placed in the present. “Do you really not see it, dear?” He shook his head, confused as to what this woman could be possibly going on about. “Please,” Alastor says quietly, “If you understand how I can remedy this, explain it to me simply. In plain words.”

Rosie took a moment before sharing her thoughts. “Okay.” Her smile fell a bit as she continued, “Now, all I know is what you’ve just told me. But I’ve been around a long time, and the way souls interact with each other is my specialty. You know that.” Alastor nodded slowly. “So, what I’m about to say may sound odd to you, but keep in mind that I have very good reasons to say it.”

It was quiet for too long. Far too long. Alastor was about ready to fill the building with an unholy amount of radio static just to bring an end to the silence when Rosie finally spoke again. “The feelings that you’re describing to me aren’t a problem, dear. It isn’t hate at all, it’s interest! You’re interested in him. There’s nothing wrong with that!” The radio demon’s eyes narrowed at his friend’s words. “Interest?” He questioned.

“Yes! The kind of interest that one soul gets for another. The kind that leads to spending more time together…?” As Rosie waited for the demon in front of her to piece her words together, Alastor sighed. “You think I want to be friends with him?” Rosie laughed, “No! Oh Alastor, you’re too funny. I guess I’ll just come out with it.”

“Yes, please do,” Alastor hissed, losing his patience. Rosie is overcome by another fit of giggling, trying to hide her wide smile behind the cup in her hand. What she said next, she said in a sing-songy voice, with a smile wider than even that of the demon sitting in front of her. When she finally says it, it’s like she’s been holding it in for hours.

“You have a CRUSH, Alastor!!!”

The bar isn’t entirely empty today. Angel was sitting on one of the barstools, watching Husk with a really odd level of intensity. I mean, the guy was just wiping down the counter. What was so interesting about that? He sat down a couple of seats away from the spider demon, not wanting to intrude on anything. And yet, before he could even ask for a drink, Angel was perched on the stool next to Lucifer, staring. Staring at… him. The king felt his face get warm at the sudden attention. He opened his mouth to speak but it was too late.

“Heya, short king~” He didn’t know how to respond to that. Before he had to make a decision, a fluffy paw set a drink in front of him. It was the same drink as last time. The king gazed up guiltily at the bartender. Husk grinned and said, “Uh huh. Figured.” Angel watched the interaction without a word, but Lucifer could just vaguely make out a sudden feeling of annoyance coming from the demon. Or maybe it was jealousy? Why would this literal porn star be- But the discomfort was gone as soon as it arrived, dissipating immediately as Angel’s eyes met with Husk’s. And then both sets of eyes simultaneously looked to the king.

Lucifer started stuttering, “Uhhh… If you were in the middle of something, um, I can, I can go, I-” It was Angel that interrupted him. “No, that’s not it. We uhh… We wanted to talk to you about somethin…” Lucifer’s eyes went wide at this. They want to… Talk to me? He struggled to put on a casual look. “Yeah! Yeah of course! Uhh.. What’s, um, what’s up?” His smile was beyond forced, probably looking as ridiculous as it felt, and his mind was racing trying to figure out what it was these two demons wanted to talk to him about.

Angel continued, “See, Husky and me have been noticin’ some things.” Husk spoke next. “Yeah. Some worrying things.” If the devil was capable of having a heart attack, he would've found out right about then. He didn’t even get a chance to ask what they were talking about before Husk continued.

The bartender let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, highness. It ain’t my business really, but it’s getting a little…” Angel spoke up. “Weird? Obvious? Embarrassing? Oh, definitely embarrassing. The second hand embarrassment I get watching you two is-” Husk glared, stopping Angel mid sentence. The cat demon went on. “I seen the way you look at him. And you might not notice, but he’s been looking at you a hell of a lot too.” He shrugged. “All I’m sayin is, everyone’s already expecting it now. Might as well give it a shot.” Lucifer was lost. Completely and utterly lost.

Angel piped up then, adding “Okay, but all I’m sayin is you betta hit that. You might be the only one that can!” Husk put a new drink down in front of Angel, briefly distracting him with the bright pink liquid. Lucifer can’t figure out how to speak all of a sudden, but manages “Ummm… I… I really honestly don’t know what exactly is happening here… Who exactly.. Uhh, what are we talking about again?” Was he drunk? No, he’s barely had a sip of his liquor. So why isn’t this making sense?

Husk speaks again. “Look, everyone in the hotel notices the tension. It’s getting painful. The two of you can’t even be in the same room without making the new residents uncomfortable. None of them understand what’s going on. They’re constantly waiting for some kind of blow up between the King of Hell and the Radio Demon.”

The… Alastor? What? The king must make a face of some kind, because Angel puts his fluffy head down on the counter with a thunk. The devil could barely hear the muffled voice say “Really has been a while for ya, huh?” Lucifer was past confusion. He mentally started back at the beginning of this interaction, hoping to understand this better the second time around. Well, he came down to the bar to ask Husk about Alastor and-

Oh.

Ooooooohhhhhhhhh.

Shit.

“Now he’s gettin it,” Husk mumbles to Angel. The spider peered at the king for a moment before downing his drink and turning his body fully to face Lucifer. He put his hands on the king’s shoulders as if afraid that the man was going to flee from the conversation. Angel’s large, mismatched eyes drilled into Lucifer as he said “Listen up, short king. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been in the game, so I’m gonna help ya out. First things first, let's get it all out there. You’ve obviously got a thing for the strawberry pimp radio star.” Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but Angel's second pair of arms appeared just in time to put a finger up, stopping him. “Don’t try to argue, we’re past that point. You like him. And lucky you, Husky over here thinks Mr. Fancy talk radio voice himself has the hots for ya, so no need to worry about that!”

It’s a good thing Lucifer didn’t actually need to breathe. Because that was absolutely not on the table right now. Angel kept speaking, watching the king closely. “Now, here’s the hard part. You have to actually initiate something. I get it, sin of pride and all. But if one of ya doesn’t start this talk soon we’re all gonna lose our minds.” Husk sighed, leaning against the bar. Angel looked at the king for another long moment and finished with “We’re here to help ya. So now that that’s outta the way, why don’t ya start spillin’ it?”

Alastor didn’t host his radio show that evening. After his visit, he needed some time to think. Before leaving Cannibal Town, Rosie gave him a small stack of literature on various topics involving relationships. The promise to return the books to Rosie was the only thing keeping the demon from burning the things on sight. He did not need a relationship. He did not want a relationship. Alastor had never fallen in love, in life or in death. He had become close to others plenty of times, Rosie being an example. But of the many times someone had been interested in Alastor, it was never reciprocated.

The radio demon sighed. Now he was the one with the interest. He sat at the desk in his tower. Alastor’s shadow then motioned towards the pocket on the demon’s coat. Charlie had given today’s envelope and paper to him on his way back in, after his brief trip out. He’d placed it there and forgotten about it. It wants to read the letter…? Alastor eyed the entity suspiciously before quickly opening and disposing of the envelope. The paper inside read:

“Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.”

Alastor,

I’ve noticed many interesting things about you. The first was your shadow. It really is an interesting being.

At this, the demon’s shadow practically purred. Alastor’s eyes went wide at the response before waving his hand to motion the thing away. He continued reading.

Another thing I’ve noticed that I find interesting is your coffee mug. It’s a silly pun, but still funny. And the third thing I find interesting is your radio show. It isn’t what I expected.

Ignoring the mention of his shadow (again), Alastor thought about the other two points. His smile widened a bit at the mug reference. It was the radio demon’s favorite piece of dishware, afterall! And then… Whoever’s writing to me has listened to my broadcast… At that moment, Alastor wondered for the first time if maybe, possibly, the resident writing to him was the same resident that he had been writing to.

But the thought didn't take root, as Alastor knew of multiple others in the building that listened to his show semi-regularly. And his simple, jazz-filled broadcasts always seemed to surprise, so it wasn’t exactly new information. He appreciated the sentiment though, reading the words over again in his mind. Alastor was never opposed to being complimented.

After a moment, the demon remembered the other half of the project. His letter to Lucifer. The letter from today’s envelope was smoothed out and placed in the stack with the others. Glancing over the new paper, he read the writing prompt. “Name one thing that you assumed about your person but have since realized that you were wrong about.” Alastor closed his eyes, replaying the events of the day. It’s not until shortly before he goes to sleep that he finally puts words on the page in front of him.

It’s Quiet Time. That’s what Niffty called the short span of time between the night owls and the early birds, where absolutely no one was around. Well, not no one… Nifty’s favorite part about Quiet Time was the visitor she sometimes got, an old friend. The little maid had known Shadow for as long as she’d known Alastor, and that was quite some time now. In the span of those many years, there were plenty of times when Alastor was asleep and Niffty was not. And during those hours, Shadow and Niffty spent their time together.

Shadow had not been coming to see Niffty much after the angel’s attack. Niffty knew what that meant, Alastor wasn’t sleeping. The being was odd, it had the ability to leave Alastor, going quite some distance before restrictions set in, and yet rarely left the demon’s side during waking hours. It’s something that Niffty would ask about, if Shadow could speak. But he can't, which sometimes leaves him limited. He can write if there's a pen around, but most of his thoughts can be made perfectly clear to Niffty without the need for words. They’d spent decades together, words weren’t necessary. But now, for the second night in a row, Shadow was here! Smiling and spending time with the quick little demon running up and down the halls.

Shadow stopped suddenly, frowning. It took a moment before Niffty realized her companion was no longer behind her, having stopped her scurrying at the end of the long hallway. But looking back, Shadow was motioning down another hall. Niffty ran back to the entity to see what she’d missed. But when she gets there, she sees nothing of note. She glances at the shadow on the wall and then hears it. Ever so faintly. Music. The little demon tiptoed carefully towards the sound, wondering who else in the hotel would be up and about at such an hour. And playing music? What instrument is that? It sounds familiar… When she finally reached the source of the sound, she and Shadow both peeked around the edge of the doorway, into the room that Lucifer and Alastor had recently cleared out. Is that…? She suddenly realized where she had heard the instrument before. That first time the king came to the hotel… He fought with Alastor and played this thing.

Realizing that the fallen angel was facing away from the door, the two watched a moment longer. The maid took note of the shiny, golden instrument Lucifer held as he played a sweet tune. Niffty and Shadow share a moment’s glance before silently backing away from the room, leaving Lucifer to play his music in peace.

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel niffty #mine #Do you want to know

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