#because she’s just as much of an unreliable narrator in this fic as she is in canon

[myfairkatiecat]

Something I’m learning from the notes of that post about the fanfic I’m writing is that many many people have secretly wanted a fic where Sophie actually cheats with Keefe for a long time now and I’m just the first brave soul to actually write it

[ruvviks]

what is the event/main cause that made roksana cut her mom off?

now this is interesting to talk about because it would be a very gradual process spanning over many many years but it would all come to explode during the events of the broker, despite that fic focusing on vitali; the events of that fic affect his whole family even though it doesn't elaborate much on the effects on his siblings. i initially had several chapters dedicated to roksana but had to cut it short and put it all in one chapter only but when i go for the rewrite i'm putting all of the initial ideas back because it's IMPORTANT. she and vitali are so similar in so many ways but also not at the same time. anyway ok yes here we go

so for roksana specifically she's kind of been a background character in the family ever since she was young. you'd think that after two other kids her parents would know how to parent her correctly but instead they just kind of let her do her thing and she got away with everything, which was nice in a way because it gave her freedom within the house itself but outside of that there was just nothing there for her. with the whole world to her disposal but nobody there with her to help her or keep her company through it all life just got suffocating to her in a way :(

she felt trapped in her family and her brothers always got the spotlight (mostly negative attention, since mainly their mother nadya was always just angry at vitali and after vitali left home daniil just kind of became her new therapist; but roksana did not really pay attention to this, all she saw was her brothers getting attention and not her), so roksana ended up fitting herself into all the boxes her parents wanted her to be in just to get some attention from them and get the love that she deserved. she was the family's poster child, but at the same time this whole role was an act of her, acting the way people expected her to act to get some respect and it was actively chipping away at her psyche, it stopped her from actually growing up and becoming her own person if that makes sense?? her personality was just fabricated specifically for her parents. but that's not who she was or wanted to be. but she knew nothing else

roksana and her father matvey have always had a very professional relationship. he was always busy with work and didn't do a lot of parenting so roksana came to see him more as a guy who lived under the same roof as her rather than her father; in the broker this escalates with matvey seeking revenge against vitali and roksana getting dragged into it and becoming a messenger girl in it all, but by then she's entirely neutral towards her father so there's not even bad blood between them when she stops talking to him; he's just a stranger to her. this is what much later allows her to hesitantly come back after vitali and matvey have made amends to try and build up that relationship again

roksana and her mother nadya however are a different story. the main difference is that roksana always hoped that nadya would understand; that she would understand the position roksana was in and understand her anger and her misery and her sorrows and regrets and that she would try to make it easier for her, give her some relief from the burdens she had to carry. but nadya refused to listen to roksana and refused to take her seriously (much like how she had always treated vitali; important to note that vitali is a trans man and to nadya he was still "her daughter"), not allowing her to show any sort of weakness because she herself had by then long killed her own weaknesses within herself and she expected roksana to do the same

and nadya got what she wanted. roksana grew up a cold and bitter woman, she let her anger win (contrasting vitali who after all this time STILL chooses kindness; if the roles for him and roksana had been reversed, though, he would have turned out the same as her, but the contrast and parallels between vitali and roksana is a story for another time) and she knows it's nadya's fault and she HATES her mother for it. she hates what nadya turned her into and she hates that she never got a normal childhood and she wants nothing more than to get out of there. this is why she vanishes from night city after her appearance in the broker fic, and why initially it is entirely unclear if she'll ever come back

so basically to summarize, nadya robbed roksana of her childhood and her softness and her ability to become her own person by forcing her to be the poster child of the family, and in classic dobrynin family fashion roksana tends to take grudges to her grave, so i don't really see her forgiving her mother for it any time soon. add to that the fact she sees nadya as the cause the entire family started crumbling apart in the first place (whether or not this is true is at this point very hard to tell because like, how far can you trace something like this back and who can be held responsible for what etc etc, but especially taking into consideration she never respected vitali's identity which is what drove him away from home, then did not allow him to reconnect which is what got him into arasaka, and THEN pushed matvey to get revenge after vitali indirectly got them fired at said corporation, and all of THAT is what drove daniil away from home and what caused roksana to change so drastically i'd say it's safe to say she is one of the bigger players in it all LMAO) AND doesn't feel comfortable around her anymore after her affair with ravager (nadya did that while still being married to matvey; they're divorced now), and there you go. mother privileges have been revoked

that being said, roksana does wish things were different. she stuck around for much longer than her brothers did almost in an attempt to fix things?? which again parallels vitali with how he also ends up trying to fix things in the broker fic but basically both of them fail and that's why roksana ends up leaving, she doesn't see the point in staying anymore because there's nothing there for her anymore :(

she does eventually come back to reconnect with vitali (most of their past beef was caused by twisted perspectives of the other's life at home as a child + daniil's rancid behavior bringing out the worst in both of them) and matvey (what i said earlier about them being strangers; no bad blood so an attempt can be made), but nadya has been cut off entirely and so has daniil for roksana because of how similar he is in his behavior to their mother, i talked a bit more about that here

this got very long i am so sorry i am positively insane about this family and all the dynamics. basically the tl;dr is that nadya gets worst mother of the year award forever and always

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

[throwaway-yandere]

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting. 

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either. 

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white. 

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?" 

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man. 

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts. 

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species." 

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

[junkissed]

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words. 

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not. 

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now. 

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being. 

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it. 

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself. 

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply. 

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest. 

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @skzzooyaaa @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @ktackore @k-drama-adict @valentxi @aaniag @aaasia111 @hyneyedfiz @saladgirl @crvs4vldtn @seungkw1 @georyanisvz @sashaaahh

strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Sep 18th

~*~

1. Hi! I don't know if this has been asked before but I'm looking for a fic. It had multiple chapters and might have been mostly from LWJ POV. (spoilers for the fic basically) I only remember clearly that in one of the later chapters it is revealed that WWX took the fall for JC who had set off a cigar fire. Thank you!

FOUND! Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor))

NOT FOUND! Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, wangxian, modern, ABO, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, fluff and smut, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others)

~*~

2. hi - apologies if you have answered this and i missed it, or please ignore if i haven't waited long enough! i really appreciate all you guys do! I'm looking for a longish fic - cloud recesses classes WY gets whipped after JZ/JY engagement broken, recovers in CR while creating talismans. Wens attack and WY explodes heads. ACE JZ, badass Madame Jin, NH sets up JY/NM, WY grabbed by WR, LZ comes to save him and they kill WR. I've tried searching hashtags, but just can't find it -can you help? @oldoni

FOUND? 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

~*~

3. Hello Mojo!! I've always used your blog to find missing fics, but this'll be the first time I send in a an ask!!

I read this fic a long time ago and forgot to bookmark it, the premise was Jiang Yanli was engaged to Lan Zhan but she was in love with Jin Zixuan. So Wei Ying, doing what he does best and offers to take her place.

He's invented a talisman that changes his body to look like Yanlis, the catch is that it affects his health everything he uses the talisman until it eventually hurts him to the point of near death. And he falls in love with Lan Zhan along the way.

Can you help me find this fic?

FOUND? 🔒 You Free Your Mind In Your Androgyny by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (E, 368k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Transphobia, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans WWX)

~*~

4. Hiii there was a fic where wei ying was chased by a dog and took shelter in lan zhans house. i remember wy having a panic attack and lz calming him, and ig he had a cat called bunny?? idk this was on the first chp. and it was a long fic ig?? Anyways hope you can find it!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

FOUND? leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

~*~

5. Hii I am desperately looking for a fic. It is around cloud recess time and wwx is a genuis and gets recognized by the Lans and they treat him well. I remember super specific stuff like there was an elder who blew something up to reroute a river because he needed the water for fire savety and he is kind of mentoring wwx. And some of the elders imply to lwj to court wwx. And there is a kind of scholar equivalent to a discussion converence and the Jiang scholars get so much shit from the Lans for not supporting wwx talent because he is like a once in a generation genius and they usually have systems in place to support people like that but the Jiangs were afraid of madam yu i guess. Thats most of what I remember. I really hope it still exists somewhere... @frankensteins-gendercrisis

FOUND?🔒in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

~*~

6. Hi! I'm looking for a f/f wangxian fic, I don't remember much about the plot but I do know in it wwx bullies young lwj and calls her a lesbian. They later meet as adults and wwx is really trying to atone for her actions. Thank you!! @blessrainydays

FOUND? Out of your system by mimilamp (E, 20k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons, jealous wwx, lan zhan FUCKS, mention of LWJ/others straight girl WWX, Y E A R N I N G, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

~*~

7. Hello! Here for the fic finder, please. It starts with Wangxian hunting a monster that eats dreams. At some point it catches lwj and puts him into a dream and wwx goes into the dream and sees that in it they are married? Does that ring any bells?

FOUND? Dream of Me by KingdomFlameVIII (E, 11k, WangXian, Mild Horror, Dreams, Dream Sex, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Light Bondage, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering)

~*~

8. Hi! I'm looking for a modern au where WWX was a fox that had gotten taken to a sanctuary and he had a faded red ribbon around his neck, it fell off and he got sad about it. It possibly had his name written on the inside of it? Wen Ning either ran the santuary or worked there. WWX might've been cursed to be in a fox form? I can't remember for sure. I thought I'd bookmarked it but can't find it and there's a gazillion fox!wwx fics and I'm not finding it. I can't remember more than that but hopefully someone will know. TIA!

NOT FOUND! in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

FOUND! Found: Extremely Friendly Fox by wanderingflame (T, 22k, ZhuiLing, WangXian, Modern AU, mild animal injury, Curses, Fluff, Reunions, Fox WWX, Foxxian being a lovable terror, POV Alternating, Modern With Cultivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ wears reading glasses because it's sexy)

~*~

9. Hi can I ask you if you could find me a fanfiction where Wei wuxian keeps doing different ghost games and Lan Zhan keeps interrupting them, the other thing I can remember is that they're both university students and Lan Zhan is responsible for the dormitory.

FOUND?🔒Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Crack, Light Angst, Humor, Paranormal, horror, Slow Burn)

~*~

10. Hello! Submitting a request to find a fic, cause i'm honestly at my wit's end.

It was multichapter fic and I'm pretty much sure it was finished. It's basically story, where Wei Wuxian transmigrates from modern times into cultivator setting, summoned by mistake, by his counter-part here and basically hijacked their body? And was then promptly attacked by Lan Wangji, who thought it was original

In cultivator setting, Wei Wuxian was also known as a Yilling Laozu - ancient and mad with grief over Lans killing his husband few hundreds years ago. The present Lan Wangji is reincarnation of said husband, but due Yilling Laozu Wei Wuxian not letting him go, he couldn't properly reincarnate or something? Like - he is still man's husband, Lan Wangji, but a little bit different and that stops him from falling in love with YL WWX?

(There was also something about how this Wei Ying was summoned, because Lan Wangji from that universe probably died, before they had a chance to meet.)

Anyway, after getting (i think?) stabbed by Lan Wangji he got taken to Cloud Recess, then he somehow winded up in Lotus Pier, growing close with Jiang siblings. Also, Wei Wuxian from the modern times was some kind of doctor or inventor (?) and he tried bringing some modern solutions there.

I think this think may be quite known, but i tried all the tags i thought that will work and found nothing ://

Thank you very much in advance

FOUND? Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? 🔒 Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don’t worry - he gets better)

~*~

11. for fic finder, i've read this a few times and suddenly i can't find it- wwx gets taken by a caiyi merchant while he's on his way to dinner with lwj. the merchant is someone wwx had previously gotten along with, so it's a bit of a depressing realization that even this guy hates him.

queue a sinister array, a timely rescue by lwj, and the sobering realization that wwx can't fully escape what he's done in his past life, and it can crop up where he least expects it @stgroversfire

FOUND! Before we get started, does anyone wanna get out? by Iggysassou (E, 13k, WangXian, Married Couple, Post-Canon, mdzs canon rather than cql, 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Protective wwx, protective lwj)

~*~

12. Hi! This is for fic finder. I'm looking for a fic where sect leader JC returns to Lotus Pier after a trip/night hunt and the junior disciples all clamour towards him. JC then picks one of the youngest disciples who gives a short report and sends them off for training. I think it might be from the pov of someone who accompanied him (LWJ? LXC?) and then I think there's a bit of commentary about the kind of sect leader JC is. I think it's likely some sort of canon divergence or time travel fic, but not sure. Thanks!

~*~

13. hi, i’m looking for a fanfic in which jzx’s death was faked, he was found in the lake (?) by wwx, i remember people thought wwx was dead but lwj managed to find him alive in some village. lwj told jiang yanli to find wwx and after he found jzx, he was told not to sleep in the same room with jyl as she was married woman and it was inappropriate. this fic wasn’t finished

FOUND? Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

~*~

14. Hi! I’ve been looking for a fic I read a while ago in which WWX designs a talisman (or something) to test blood relationships and finds out he really is JFM’s son. If I remember correctly he’s already left Lotus Pier, I think he finds out with JYL and JC at Cloud Recesses? “This body yet survives” by RoseThorne comes very close but doesn’t have him as JFM’s son. Help please!

I’m pretty sure 14 is a modern era AU and they take a DNA test which reveals the siblings as wwx’s half siblings - can I locate it? Ehhh, of course not unless I get lucky with my history search

~*~

15. I’m looking for a fic that is a modern au, no cultivation, where wwx leaves home or is driven out of his home and loses contact with his sibling and lwj. Fast forward to the future, he’s living somewhere and is with the Wen siblings? I don’t remember how, but somehow lwj finds wwx first, maybe over text? And slowly wwx starts sharing his life again? I feel like maybe wwx had been abused or threatened to never talk to his siblings again. He’s very afraid. I remember Wen Qing was very suspicious of LWJ and protective of wwx. Thanks for your help!

NOT FOUND! clean from the war (your heart fits like a key) by sysrae (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reunions, past xy/wwx, xy is fucked up but not evil because it's a modern AU and I said so, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, past wwx/jfm, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, transphobic violence, Victim Blaming, Past wwx/others, allusions to past self-harm)

FOUND! Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

~*~

16. Hello! Thanks in advance for this. I read ff earlier this year, it was post-canon I guess, Wei Wuxian is staying in cloud recesses and Lan wangji is chief cultivator (I guess). once wwx took juniors to night hunt and he kminda knew that someone will come for him, a walking corpse was searching for him specifically. after empathy wwx got to know that the walking corpse is his father. I dont remember anything other than this scene. Please help! @vbhardwaj-reads

FOUND! An Aftermath More Devastating Than The Storm by UneducatedAuthor (Not Rated, 111k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Everyone Loves WWX, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LSZ, WWX Deserves Better, Genius WWX, WWX Protection Squad, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, JC & WWX Reconciliation) Has Wei Changze as a fierce corpse searching for his son

~*~

17. For fic finder, I remember it was a multichap canon dovergent wangxian fic with inventor wwx. Tho I am not sure if that tag was used. The most notable part of it was Madam Jin bringing evidence of jgs putting his lot in with wrh complete with bills, transactions, correspondences etc. Jgs tries to discredit her by being a misogynist. That's when madam Jin uses a wwx custom binding spell on him and then says "I am a quick study when I want to be" to wwx and then she says "thank you for your instruction" because she learned the spell from jzx who saw wwx teach it to jc in cloud recesses lectures. After that she tells jzx to take the sect leader's seat and there was resistance from jin elders in the same scene and also in other later chapters. It was complete and happy ending I believe for wangxian too @yiling-laozu-is-loml

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics)

~*~

18. Hey its my first ask so i don't know if I'm doing it right... I've been trying to find two specific fics really hard but no luck yet. I hope you'd be able to help

A) It was a post-sunshot campaign au..I think someone basically heard wwx getting yelled at by jc and flinching away from his touch. That gives rise to rumours that jc is sexually abusing wwx. Everyone starts pitying wwx and it comes to a head at some sort of banquet..?

B) A post-canon wangxian fluff fic. I think it might've been a 5+1 sort of fic but im not sure. There was one particular scene where wwx is just hanging out with other lan spouses and they are all complaining about their husband but wwx is silent cause lwj treats him really well..After he says so one of the women say "how long will it take your husband to realise if I kill you and take your place?" To which wwx replies "like right away"

I really hope you'll be able to find them

18A)

FOUND? Short Prompts by Vrishchika (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not JC Friendly, Separate Tags for Each Chapter) chapter 15 I'm sure of it

18B)

FOUND? Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

19. Hello! I am trying to find a fix where Wei ying get thrown to burial mound by wen Chao as a child, and then he become the protector of Yiling! He is always covered in shadows when he meet the sects! Can anyone remember the title! It is in AoW but I cannot find it! Help please!🙏 Thanks 😊 Have a wonderful day! @fallingstar77

I don't remember the name of #19 fic, but what I do remember is that it's listed on the amazing Warprize compilation you guys did.

FOUND? 💖 what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? Sanctuary by Alineko (T, 45k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Cultivation Sect Politics, Sunshot Campaign, Overpowered WWX, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Unreliable Narrator LWJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Self-Indulgent, Touch-Starved WWX, Different First Meeting, POV Alternating, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags)

~*~

20. Hi, Im looking for a fic that may have been deleted but i'll try here. In it LWJ takes a'yuan away from cloud recesses to raise outside of the sect after WWXs death. He builds a garden with various monuments one of which is a boulder tied down with ropes to represent the Xuanwu. Eventually he senses something and goes to the burial mounds where he drags a reborn WWX from the blood pool. He takes him home to rehabilitate. On the way he stops at an inn to bathe him. Thats all I remember<3

~*~

[haphazardlyannotated]

Steven Universe told from the perspective of other characters

Garnet: A story of gay empowerment from start to finish. As a book it would be titled either Made of Love or Stronger Than You and feature Garnet's gauntlets with her wedding rings on them as cover art.

Amethyst: A seemingly wacky coming of age story that drops the most heartfelt moments when your guard is down. The cover resembles kids' detective stories, the kind where the whole gang is looking around for clues to the mystery.

Pearl: Everything up to Rose's death is an ancient literary classic titled The Ballad of Rose Quartz, illustrated with intricate inkbrush paintings. Steven Universe season one to three is the kind of introspective life after tragedy novel you pick up to look sophisticated reading. It's probably titled Without Her or something similiar. I don't have a title for season four and onwards, but the blurb is "it's not easy to manage twenty girlfriends, two life partners, a son and a dark past at the same time!" It's much more lighthearted than the previous two, but still prone to punching you in the emotions with little warning.

Connie: A magical adventure series just like the Unfamiliar Familiar! It centers Steven the magical boy with his best friend and eventual love interest Connie as the female lead. The tone gets a little darker after the first book/season, but less so than the original Steven Universe (let alone Steven Universe Future).

Greg: First a coming of age story, but unlike Amethyst this one is about breaking away from toxic people in your life. This story gets its happy ending when Greg finally finds someone he can be himself with in Rose. The time until Rose's death is a romantic comedy titled My Girlfriend, her Girlfriend and Me and conists mostly of shenanigans. After Rose's death and Steven's birth, it turns into something more bittersweet centering Greg's worries about being an adequate father to his magical son.

Peridot: It's titled How I learned to stop worrying and join the Rebellion and is easily the most lighthearted installment here. Our dorky protagonist is very obviously a somewhat unreliable narrator, but in a funny way. She encounters a few struggles, but they are quickly overcome with the power of friendship.

Lapis: This is just multiple whump fics. They're in a collection titled Bad Things Happen Roulette. Steven Universe the Movie is a pretty standard fantasy adventure with a group of powerful heroes though, and Steven Universe Future is the fluff fic with a smidge of angst you'd read as a pick me up after Bad Things Happen Roulette.

Bismuth: The war is a good vs evil sci-fi story with lots of social commentary. The Diamonds are definitely irredeemable here. I don't know what to do with the few episodes of the original Steven Universe she was in, but the movie is an empowerment narrative against systemic oppression titled Still Standing, or something in that style. Steven Universe Future however is a romantic comedy.

Rose: This is just a straight (well, bi) up tragedy. Our protagonist desperately tries to recover from her childhood trauma and be a good person, but is ultimately unable to escape the prison of her own mind. The book wins several literature prizes, but very few people actually read it because it's just too depressing.

[brucewaynehater101]

hii i just wanted to ask about the accuracy of the statement of "Talia abducted Jason during when he was arguably at his most vulnerable cuz catatonic and took advantage of his state (+no Bats knowing Jason came back to life) to indebt him to her and a cult + groom him to be a tool for whatever goal she had in mind" or if it's fanon and your opinions on this idea (+ actual canon if this statement is in fact fanon)

but just like how we play with the scale of good parent, bad parent Bruce we could also fuck around and do so much with this concept (fanon or not)

Hi! I'm not as familiar with this, so let's do the research together ^^ It's gonna be a long post!

I've heard many many many people curse out a few writers (I'm shitty at remembering names) for being a racist pieces of shit. I've also heard of Talia being thrown under the bus by a lot of writers. Here's a link to a wonderful Tumblr post that goes into Talia and how writers fucked over her character.

There's other posts, but this one quickly summaries what they did to Talia and briefly mentions the assassination of Ra's character as well.

Here's a post that goes further into Ra's character.

On that note, I have seen a few fics play around with two ideas that were (as far as I'm aware) retconned: Damian's conception being unconsensual and Talia having sexual relations with Jason.

As long as you keep in mind that these were retconned and come from racist, sexist, or both connotations, it's okay to explore the impact these actions would have on all characters involved (especially if we're utilizing the reasoning that Talia wasn't in her right mind during those actions).

That's a basic summary of why there's heavy debate around Talia and the al Ghuls as a whole.

Now! Let's get into Talia and Jason specifically!!!!

The comic run we want to look into is Red Hood - The Lost Days. I am unsure if there are any other comics that cover post-death Jason but pre-Red Hood. If anyone has any other canon material that covers or mentions this time period, feel free to comment, reblog, etc.

This is Talia's initial reaction to hearing about Jason:

She expresses concern, worry, and grief for Bruce

She then has spies give her updates on Bruce's situation. Everyone else states Bruce is "stepping up his game." She calls them fools (since Bruce is obviously just hurting)

Very quickly, we get into her discovery of Jason Todd:

So. Jason's catatonic and Talia was ordered not to inform Bruce. Regardless of if she wanted to, she would be betraying her father if she told Bruce

Then I'm just going to drop all of these panels:

This shows she somewhat cares about him. Whether that's for Jason or because of Bruce, that's irrelevant. She still cares and wants him to get better. She wants him to go home.

Talia only pushes Jason into the Lazarus Pits because she's run out of time

Now... she may be an unreliable narrator. She states she's doing this for Jason's sake, but it does seem like it's more for her own. Regardless, she doesn't have ill intentions.

Talia dips Jason in the Pits and then tosses him out

That line of hers seems suspicious, but I see it more as her trying to hide the fact she had Jason for so long. It's less "go be mad at Bruce" and more "gods, what is Bruce gonna think of me if Jason shows up on his doorstep?"" Selfish, but not in the way fanon characterizes it.

She had trackers on the bag, though. She just needed him away from Ra's

Ra's tells Talia she fucked up, Jason tries to blow up the batmobile, and then tries to tell Talia he didn't lose his nerve for revenge against Bruce

Talia realizes that reviving Jason with the Pit might have fucked Jason up

Jason asks Talia for her help with revenge against Bruce. Talia did not set that up. Jason was the one to suggest it without influence

Talia obviously does not want to be helping Jason right now. She still agrees, though

Let me just toss this here too:

So... She's not doing this completely because she cares about Jason or that it's the right thing, but she also sure as hell does not want Jason to be going down this revenge path

Despite all of this, there's this:

They then proceed to fuck.

Which is gross as hell, and how some people can say that she took advantage of him

I think them fucking got retconned, though....

So, it's slightly complicated?

In my personal opinion, the final answer is: "It is fanon!"

There may be some truth or canon behind it, but that most likely comes from more racist characterizations of her character. However, the canon material that explicitly covers this topic makes it clear:

"Talia was selfish with her help to Jason. She wants Bruce to love her. She thus ends up hiding Jason's existence out of fear of Bruce's reaction. She does not want Jason to be mad at Bruce or fight his dad."

This also matches the other characterization I've seen of this: "Talia uses the distraction technique to try to hold Jason back from murdering his own father. 'You can't murder Bruce without training, Jason.'"

To continue, whether Talia should've told Bruce or not is an entirely different matter. Sometimes, I've avoided telling people shit out of fear, which made the situations worse. It wasn't great of her to do that, but in no way should this villainze her. I also 100% love that this gives her a flaw. People make mistakes. She's trying. She may have gone about it poorly, but she did what she thought she could. It was selfish, but I don't blame her.

She could've also convinced Jason to give up his mission entirely right before they fucked. That's where it gets murky.

You are absolutely correct that we can use the fanon idea of the al Ghuls manipulating Jason. On the other hand, I haven't seen enough fics where Talia treats Jason like an unruly toddler instead.

"No, Jason. We can't murder Bruce. Obviously, you need training first." Her visible reaction is a motherly rolling eyes. Internally, she's just panicking ("fuck fuck fuck fuck. How do I curb bloodlust? How do I stop patricide? Procrastination!!!")

Anyways, thanks for bringing the question up! It allowed me to look into it and put my thoughts in order ^^

Feel free to read the rest of the run!

[arecaceae175]

For Want Of Rest: Ch. 4

FAN JOY JULY!

Fic Summary: Five times Sky falls asleep somewhere that isn’t a bed plus one time they all do. Or, Sky struggles to manage his disabilities, then the chain has a conversation about accessibility and accommodations.

Fan Joy July! Each chapter is inspired a few amazing art pieces of Sleepy Sky <3. There are plenty more chapters and art inspirations to come :D

Chapter Summary: Sky struggles to stay awake as the chain travels. 1.3k, angst and hurt/comfort. Also Legend decided to use she/her pronouns in this one, apparently. Good for her

Art pieces:

Sky snoozing by @narsh-poptarts Sky and Wars napping by @sraksha

My favorite thing about narsh-poptarts's art is how much the pose mimics the one in the game. Even later in life, blorbo is still the same eepy blorbo. I also think the pose is cool and it looks hard to draw!

Sraksha's art is always amazing. It's such a distinct, soft style that is perfect for two blorbos napping. I love how Warriors is smiling in the second panel. He is very proud of himself for helping his brother be comfy <3

Chapter warnings: could be read as dissociation, but is intended to be blorbo being soooo fucking tired. Also Sky continues to be an unreliable narrator with low self esteem and internalized ableism (directed towards himself, not others)

“You good, Sky?”

Sky held back a sigh and forced a small smile instead. Ever since they found him passed out beneath the tree, one of the other heroes was never far from Sky. He was glad he was used to living in close quarters on Skyloft and used to Groose’s anxious clinginess; some of the others surely would’ve snapped by now. Every time he felt frustration bubbling at his family’s overbearing concern, he had to remind himself that he was thankful they cared so much.

Legend was watching him with thinly veiled concern. Against his will, Sky’s eyes darted to the braces on Legend’s knees and the compression gloves on her hands. Sky felt the burn of shame. He could ignore the ache in his joints and the fatigue dragging him down. He didn’t want to be the one to slow down the group. 

“I can keep going,” Sky said. 

“Not what I asked.”

Sky felt the tips of his ears go pink. “I’m okay. Are you? Do you need a break?”

“If I need a break, I’ll ask for one,” Legend said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Sky. 

Sky shrugged and turned away. A break would be nice, but he didn’t need one. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was still moving. As long as he wasn’t assigned to a watch shift tonight, and they made it to a place to stop early in the day tomorrow, it would be fine. He could handle it.

Legend’s stare weighed on Sky’s shoulder for another moment, before Sky heard her huff and stomp away. Disappointment twinged in Sky’s chest, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His gaze went back to his feet and he tried to let himself zone out, just barely watching for hazards he could trip on. It was easier than focusing on the pain in his hips or knees or back or feet or head or the one weird, sharp twinge in his ankle— that was new, what was that about?

It must have worked, because next thing he knew, Four’s stopped feet appeared in his view. Sky barely scrambled to a stop before he ran into Four, and he still had to put a hand on Four’s shoulder to steady himself. He muttered an apology as he took a step back. Four smiled and waved it away. 

Sky glanced around. They were still in the woods— which did not make Sky want to cry, not at all. The path ahead was split into three forks. Wild, Time, and Twilight were crowded around a broken signpost trying to make sense of the directions. 

Pain slammed into him with full force. His legs were shaking minutely. Sky felt himself sway, and he desperately looked around for the nearest tree to discreetly lean against. Things always felt worse just standing. If they were going to be here for more than a few more seconds, Sky really needed to find a spot to rest. 

“Hey,” Legend said quietly. 

Sky looked at her in surprise. She inclined her head towards Sky’s left and raised her eyebrows. Sky followed her gaze and saw a tree stump partially hidden from Sky’s view. Sky felt himself sag with relief and immediately went for the stump. He collapsed on top of it with less grace than he would like to admit. Against his will, his eyes slid shut immediately. He crossed his arms and clenched his fists into the fabric of his sleeves as he breathed through the wave of pain in his hips and back with the new pressure. 

The voices of the others faded into background noise as Sky began slipping into a light doze. Sky could still hear the words, but he didn’t put much effort into processing them. Someone would get him when they needed to move again. 

A voice rose louder than the others. “Um, guys?” 

Sky startled, ever so slightly. Sky knew he should probably open his eyes to see what the problem was, but he couldn’t muster the energy. There was a span of silence.

“Is this a safe place to make camp?” 

“Fresh monster tracks.”

Another pause. The voices faded into a buzz. 

“Sky.”

Sky jolted, then winced as his back twinged. He rubbed his dry eyes. “Hm?”

Hyrule smiled apologetically and held out a hand. “We’re moving on.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Sky stifled a yawn as he took Hyrule’s offered hand and let the traveler pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

Hyrule’s smile widened. “‘Course.”

As they started to walk again, Sky tried to focus on anything besides his body. He looked around the path and noticed a hero was missing.

“Where’s Twilight?” Sky asked. 

“Scouting ahead,” Hyrule said. His ears twitched, and wasn’t looking at Sky. If Sky had any energy, he would’ve pressed. His thoughts were too heavy for that, so Sky just hummed a reply. 

An amount of time passed. Sky didn’t know how much. Staying upright and putting one foot in front of the other was taking all his concentration. An amount of time passed, and then Twilight was jogging down the path towards them. 

“There’s a cave close. A few monsters outside, but it don’t look too deep. We can clear it,” Twilight said. 

Sky frowned. His accent was thicker than usual. That usually meant he was tired, hurt, or stressed. 

“It’s a tight fit, though,” Twilight continued. 

“We’ll split up,” Time said. “Legend?”

Legend shook his head. “I’d rather keep moving.”

“I can stay,” Warriors said.

“Um.” Sky cleared his throat. His ears pinned themselves to his head as Sky grabbed his sailcloth to fiddle with it. “I don’t think I would be the most helpful right now.”

Warriors, with clear movements in Sky’s line of sight, patted Sky’s shoulder. “We’ll stay back.”

“I’ll stay, too. I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Four said, tapping his temple lightly with one finger. 

“Come on, then. It’s close,” Twilight said. 

“Stay safe,” Warriors called as the group left. 

Sky’s eyes burned, both with forming tears and the dryness of exhaustion. He hated feeling like he let the others down. He hated being too slow. 

Sky stepped far enough to be off the path and collapsed in a heap against a rock. He curled his sailcloth around himself and let his eyes slide shut, then let his head fall against the rock. His entire body throbbed. 

“Do you need anything for the headache?” Warriors asked. 

“No, it’s not bad. More pressure than pain, really. I’ll stand watch if you want to…” Four trailed off.

Sky’s neck protested the angle with sharp pains. He huffed a watery breath of frustration and dragged an arm up to rest between his head and the rock. 

Leaves crunched as footsteps approached. 

“Sky?” Warriors asked softly. His voice was closer than Sky expected. He dragged his eyes open and saw Warriors kneeling beside him. 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to lean on me? It’ll be more comfortable than the rock.”

Sky briefly considered protesting, but exhaustion and pain won over. He nodded wordlessly and pushed himself off the rock just a bit. Warriors smiled and settled against the rock just behind Sky with his head pillowed on his hands.

“Touch is okay?” Sky had to check.

Warriors smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Here.”

Warriors gently guided Sky to lean back against his side. With the way he had his arms up, Sky’s head fit securely on his shoulder. Sky scooted until his back was fully supported and extended his sharply aching knee. He wanted to thank Warriors, but he couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth. 

Sky’s eyes slid shut as the aching in his body settled. He’d be sure to thank Warriors tomorrow.

Endnotes: By the way, in case any of the implied stuff wasn’t clear: when Legend left Sky, she went up to Time and Wild and said “Birdbrain needs a break. Don’t make it obvious.” And then when Sky’s on the stump, they’re trying to figure out if they can stop and rest because Sky is clearly having a horrible time. Wolfie is sent to scout for the nearest place to rest, even though they won’t make it to wherever they were going. And they split up on purpose so Sky doesn’t have to fight. There is plenty of room at the cave. Sky doesn’t know any of that though. Blorbos :)

[savoytrufflephd]

The questions of Laurent’s being and behavior…

I have been informed, via @thickenmyblood’s asks (since mine were apparently not set to accept anonymous asks – which I have now changed) that my opinion about HIUH Laurent’s character is incorrect. I have been informed that he’s abusive.

My PhD isn’t in English (though it is in the humanities), but my wife was an English major and she has often told me that interpretations aren’t right or wrong, but they are stronger or weaker in the sense that they are supported by the text.

So, let’s go…

First things first. Let me be clear about the following:

The question of whether or not Laurent is abusive in this piece of fanfiction has no bearing whatsoever on whether any person you know in real life is abusive.

Similarly, any arguments that Laurent can change or that Laurent deserves a second chance have no bearing whatsoever on whether any person you know in real life can change or deserves a second chance.

Neither HIUH nor any fic should be taken as a life advice manual. Just because there are therapists in this fic does not mean that @thickenmyblood is a mental health professional or your therapist.

I am also not a therapist, nor am I trying to give you life advice when I speak of my enjoyment of HIUH.

But if I were to give you life advice, it would be this: If a piece of fanfiction makes you so angry that you feel the need to send abusive anonymous comments to the author and/or ask that author to pass on your comment “correcting” the opinion of a reader writing about that story, you should probably stop reading that fic. It is clearly not good for you. Metaphorically speaking, you are in an abusive relationship with that fic and you should end it. Write the story off and move on.

Okay, that said, the question of whether Laurent is abusive in HIUH is probably more of a series of questions:

Has HIUH Laurent engaged in abusive behaviors?

If so, do those abusive behaviors necessarily indicate that he is and will always be an abuser?

If not, what evidence do we have that HIUH Laurent can and will stop engaging in abusive behaviors?

If HIUH Laurent stops engaging in abusive behaviors, what reasons, if any, does HIUH Damen have to return to the relationship despite past abuse?

BONUS:

A. Is an HIUH Laurent who harms Damen through abusive behavior mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

B. Is an HIUH Damen who chooses to be with Laurent despite past abuse mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

1. Has Laurent engaged in abusive behaviors?

Yes. Although we are limited by a potentially unreliable narrator (Damen), who does not believe Laurent is abusive, we are clearly and intentionally both told and shown in the text that Laurent has engaged in abusive behavior. We are told when Neo explains as much to a skeptical Damen:

“Then you must know I’m only trying to get a feeling on how educated you are on the subject of abuse between romantic partners.” “But why ? I just told you Laurent and I never—” “Do you know what emotional abuse looks like, Damen?” “Yes.” “Give me a definition.” It’s hot in the room, all of the sudden. “It’s… making someone. Feel bad.” “It’s consistent and repeated humiliation,” Neo says. “Gaslighting. Manipulation. Verbal abuse can sometimes overlap with this. Have you ever experienced this while in your relationship with Laurent?” “We weren’t abusive.” “Did you insult each other?” “No,” Damen says. It was so long ago, it was a lifetime back. He can’t remember. “It’s—not like that. Humiliation? We never—” “You’ve said that sometimes Laurent made you feel as though the things you were feeling were inadequate.” You’re being a fucking idiot, Laurent had said about the pink sweatshirt. “What if he was right?”  “It’s never right to invalidate your partner’s feelings.” “We weren’t abusive.” “Damen,” Neo says, the soft caress before a blow. “What if we think about it from—” “There’s nothing to think about. I’m telling you, it wasn’t like that. How the fuck did you get to that conclusion? Because I complained about us arguing?” Neo ruffles his notes. “Contempt. Shame. Hurt. That’s what abusers thrive on. There’s quite a lot of those things in here.” “Laurent’s not an abuser,” Damen snaps. “Maybe not, but he grew up with one, didn’t he? These are learned traits.” Damen folds forward as though to vomit. That’s—He’s made a mistake. They argued, they yelled, they said things they didn’t mean, but they never hit each other or threw cutlery at each other’s heads. They went to bed angry, and Damen slept on the couch, and there would be rolling eyes and huffs and annoyance in the following days, but that’s not—Laurent is not— You’re sweet, Damen had said, hand to Laurent’s cheek. A sweetheart. He remembers meaning it, remembers Laurent not liking it. He also remembers Laurent’s sweetness, scarcer in the end and cloying in the beginning. Breakfast in bed, letting Damen pick what show to watch, giving up half his trail mix bag because he knew Damen liked the dried fruit pieces most. You’ll do great, you always do great. A protein shake prepped and ready to go, peace and quiet the nights before important court days. But also bigger things, biggest things. There was—and sharing a bed, and curling up under Damen to read, and letting Damen carry Nicaise up the stairs, and holding his hand under the table as firm functions, and kissing just to kiss, just because, just— He’s explained Laurent wrong.

And we are shown in the moments when Damen and Laurent talk and Damen expects a belittling response from Laurent:

“There are,” Laurent starts, stops. Starts again, “I didn’t.” He has both elbows on the table, which he used to despise. Tables are for cutlery and food, not limbs. Something about the way he rubs at the skin under his eyes makes Damen’s stomach cower as if expecting a blow. “Agnes recommended it months before you—came back. It wasn’t my idea.”

“I met him?” For once, Laurent doesn’t mock him for his question. “It was at that school play I couldn’t go to. The one Nicaise got that huge part in.”

“I want to know when the twenty-four hours are up,” Damen says, loudly, too loudly, “so we can go to the police station and report him missing. For fuck’s sake, Laurent, will you stop ? He could be seriously hurt, and you’re sitting here, berating me about the way I phrased a question. Do you even give a shit about him? Do you even—” He cuts himself off when he sees Laurent’s expression. Like he did last time with Nicaise, Damen braces himself for what’s to come, goes over the list of things Laurent can hurl at him, tries to minimize the inevitable damage. The comment will be about Nikandros, about his soft childhood in Ios, about the time he tried to discipline Nicaise by himself and ended up covered in vomit.   Nothing happens. There’s only Laurent, turning his face to the side so Damen can’t stare at it any longer. In the silence of the car, Laurent’s breathing shakes.

“Is his name really Dog?” Laurent says, sitting down next to Damen. Between them, the two cups of coffee and the small pile of croissants both steam. “I didn’t believe Nicaise when he told me.” “I,” Damen starts, lie ready on his tongue, and stops. It’s very meta. “I’m not good with names.” Laurent picks up his coffee instead of agreeing with Damen. Instead of mocking. The space between their bodies is comfortable enough—they’re not touching, not even their knees or thighs. They’re not looking at each other either, not with the entire park stretching green and busy in front of them.

2. If so, do those abusive behaviors necessarily indicate that he is and will always be an abuser?

I take this to be one of the major points of contention on the part of the angry readers. As you can probably guess, I don’t think the text suggests that Laurent in inherently abusive. Besides the stuff coming in my answer to question 3, we have several reasons to believe that Laurent’s abusive behavior is the product of particular circumstances rather than a generalized personality dysfunction.

We know, and Neo just reminded us above, that abusive behaviors are learned behaviors. We know Laurent was abused in multiple ways before he was able to leave his uncle’s house. We know that he is still very young and that it has not been that long since his uncle’s trial. We know he has not been comfortable talking to Damen about his abuse, which gives us reason to believe he still experiences a great deal of shame. That shame is hinted at here:

“He respects you,” Laurent says before Damen has made up his mind about the yelling. “He looks at you and sees a standard to meet. Normalcy. It’s hard to disappoint people you respect. Especially people like you.” “Like me.” “You do things your way. Everyone else does them wrong.” “That’s,” Damen starts. The absolute inaccuracy of the phrase leaves him hanging. “What the fuck?” Laurent ignores him. “He doesn’t respect me, and he also knows I have no room to judge. It’s different. We’re—it’s just different.”

We also know that Laurent is specifically and intentionally not abusive toward Nicaise. We have seen that he has been absorbing a ton of anger, vilification, derision, denigration from Nicaise almost entirely without complaint and without lashing out at Nicaise in return. In fact, after the breaking of the paperweight, when Laurent feels that he might not be able to avoid reacting in a way he will regret, he calls Damen to safely remove Nicaise from the situation. Having taken the lock off Nicaise’s door for reasons many parents would no doubt consider justified, he realizes it was a mistake:

Damen doesn’t look down at the twisted little bolts on the floor. “Actually, you should watch this part in case you ever want to dismantle it again.” “I won’t.” Damen rubs his sleeve over a weird spot on the knob. “You’re betting a lot on Nicaise’s hypothetical good behavior.” “It was dumb, taking the lock away as punishment. I…” Laurent’s thumb glides over the edge of the glass. It traces a full circle before stopping and going white, digging in. His jaw twitches like he’s munching on something. “Privacy shouldn’t be a reward.” “Wasn’t this about safety? He locked himself in, wouldn’t come out or reply when you called…” Laurent’s reply is slow to come. After a while, Damen stops expecting it to come at all. He goes back to testing the lock—twice, waiting for that click sound—opens the door, closes it, and rattles the knob a bit. Just to be sure. “My uncle made it about safety too,” Laurent says. “Locks on doors were for adults. Not children.” The lonely ice cube in his glass floats around aimlessly, not quite touching its confines. “The first to go were the bedroom locks. What if there’s a fire and you can’t get out? What if someone breaks in through the window and—well.” Laurent smiles, small and ugly. “That kind of thing. You know.”

He ensures that Nicaise sees a therapist, meets with that therapist regularly, and follows professional advice about putting Nicaise on medication.

Laurent also maintains a strong friendship with Ancel, whose judgment the text has taught us to trust, through Damen’s evolving relationship with him. Laurent is capable of non-abusive, non-superficial relationships.

3. If not, what evidence do we have that HIUH Laurent can and will stop engaging in abusive behaviors?

From the moment we see Laurent interact with Damen in the present of this story, he is trying to treat Damen better. Not because he thinks he can get back together with Damen, but because he realizes he needs to make a relationship with Damen possible for Nicaise. We have already seen above that most of the time when Damen expects Laurent’s ridicule in this story, he does not actually receive it. In very stressful conversations, when Laurent does lash out, he now tends to pull back or even to acknowledge and apologize:

Coffee. Damen takes two long sips, trying to rinse the bad taste out of his mouth. They’ve had arguments in public before, probably louder than this one. For some reason, the thought isn’t as comforting as Damen would have once found it. They broke up to be better than they were together, didn’t they? They should be better. Except this doesn’t feel better. Or different. Laurent says, “That was out of line.” Now, cooled off, Damen feels clammy. Wobbly. He knows Laurent is right, and yet the thought of sitting through a reprimand makes him want to melt away. “It was.” “I—apologize.” Damen looks up from his coffee to Laurent’s profile. He’s facing the wrong way, Damen thinks stupidly, because the window is to their left. “You apologize.” Half a question. “Go ahead,” Laurent says. “Rub it in.” Damen doesn’t want to. Nausea is curling around him, closing in. “I was out of line too, so.”

And we know now that Laurent has thought through some of his past behaviors toward Damen:

“I was angry at you,” Laurent says, “all the time. Sometimes it was justified, but when it wasn’t I just—I found ways to justify it. That wasn’t fair. Of me.” Damen’s palm is numb around the glass. “Why were you angry?” “Nicaise.” “Justified,” Damen says. “And the rest of it?” Laurent is facing him again. “Paschal says I have a tendency to expect the worst from everyone. Especially you. You’d make comments, and I’d think you were being cruel instead of…” “Instead of what? Ignorant?” Laurent doesn’t reply. “That makes no sense,” Damen says. “We never argued about me being fucking sadistic. We argued about you acting like some things were obvious and I was simply too much of an idiot to get them.” “I never thought you were an idiot.” “You said it often enough.” “I’m—sorry,” Laurent says. “It doesn’t change anything, but—even if you had been the biggest idiot in the world, you didn’t deserve…” A blinking spree follows. “I’m sorry.”

We know that Laurent is still in therapy, and we know that he has been talking about his relationship with Damen there because Paschal has suggested couples counseling for them. And Laurent has invited Damen to do that couples counseling, showing that he wants them to build a better foundation for their relationship  going forward.

4. If HIUH Laurent stops engaging in abusive behaviors, what reasons, if any, does HIUH Damen have to return to the relationship despite past abuse?

Damen is deeply in love with Laurent. At the beginning of the story, he is in denial about this fact, but the uncontrollable flow of his thoughts still shows us how much he feels the loss of their relationship. Once he and Laurent are speaking again, seeing improvements in their communication, and experiencing moments of comfort and fun in their interactions – and once Laurent has broken up with Maxime – Damen admits to himself that he wants to be back together. Neo, as usual, prompts the self-recognition:

“I’m asking you to think about what life might look like in two years,” Neo says, “for you and Laurent. Time does not only pass for you, Damen.” A smile, crinkling the corners of Neo’s eyes. “That’d be ideal, wouldn’t it?”  Two years. Damen sits with the question for a while, looking at it, prodding it. In two years, Nicaise will have gone away to college. Maybe Laurent will move, relocate, start over somewhere closer to Vask. He’ll post about his new life on Instagram, or details of it will make it to Damen as second-hand gossip. They could still be friends, over text or the phone or fucking letters, Damen thinks, yet there’s something bitter in the back of his throat, filling up his mouth like vomit. Maybe Laurent will date again. Probably. Most likely. And Damen— When he looks up from the armrest, Neo is looking straight back.  Damen can’t say it. Earlier today, as he typed his last email of the day at the office, he kept drafting a plan for today’s session. He’d explain his argument with Laurent, then the party at Ancel’s, then the way he keeps looking at Laurent in all the wrong lights, in all the wrong ways, and still finds himself wanting to kiss him. Neo would make a disapproving face, maybe, but it would be easy to brush off; anyone that doesn’t know Laurent would find it hard to understand how easy it is to want to kiss him. Except that isn’t all Damen wants. What Damen wants isn’t a settling of the score, a cleaning of the slate. He doesn’t want to do it once for old times’ sake, or twice out of gluttony. He doesn’t want to make any long-distance phone calls, write any letters, see any pictures on Instagram of Laurent and someone that isn’t him. He doesn’t want things to stay like this, in this careful antiseptic stage. He doesn’t want them to be friends. “It’s not what I want,” Damen says, at last. Neo leans back into his chair. He rolls his wrist once. “You think it’s what I should want, right? Letting go and all.” “I wouldn’t say that,” Neo says. “Should and shouldn’t are very loaded words. It also doesn’t matter what I think you should or shouldn’t do, in general. What is it that you want, since we’ve already established what it is that you don’t?” Don’t make me say it out loud. “I want,” Damen starts, and stops. The words look so stupid, jumbled inside his head. I want him back, like Laurent is a toy someone took away and won’t return. Like Damen is a child, begging. Don’t make me say it.   Seconds trickle by, piling into a minute. Then two. “Do you want to be in a relationship with Laurent again?” “I thought I already was,” Damen says. “A friendship is a kind of relationship. You said that.” Neo closes his eyes, keeps them like that for a while. “I did, yes. Let me rephrase that—do you want to be in a romantic relationship with Laurent? Again?” There is no loophole this time, no two-meaning word Damen can latch onto. The truth sits heavy in him, not on his chest but somewhere deeper, inside a little crevice between some (probably important) organs. Saying no would be lying, saying yes would be diminishing.  “I want things to be good,” Damen says. “That’s all.”

And in chapter 19, Damen is brutally honest with himself about how, even after everything, he still wants Laurent:

“You meet new people,” Neo says. “You go on dates, make new friends, find new interests. Despite what you might think right now, Laurent isn’t your only option. Dare I say, Laurent might not even be your best option.” The room is dark, darker than it was when the phone call started, but Damen’s eyes hurt like he’s been staring at a ball of light for too long. Everything hurts in a strange, modest way. A throb here, faint. An ache there, heatless.  “I don’t want other options,” Damen says. “Well.” “How fucked up is that?” “Pretty fucked up,” Neo says. It makes Damen stop blinking. “Luckily, you’re already doing therapy. It’s only bound to get less complicated from here on. Or more, depending on how you look at it.” “I don’t even wanna look at it, to be honest.” “Then don’t. Take time off, let things cool down, think about what’s been said… No one is asking you to choose right this second.” It’s not that anyone is asking. It’s that it feels like he’s already made his choice. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Damen says before he can think not to. “Tell you what?” “How bad it was.” Laurent’s thumb traces the t in team. It’s a bit crooked, even from Damen’s perspective. “It was pretty bad,” he says, slowly, “before you came back. Things were better once he started seeing you again.” “You call that better?” “Yes,” Laurent says.  I would have come back, Damen thinks, if you’d told me. Except it’s not true; he would have come back for much less. He’s here now, sitting across from Laurent in this mediocre coffee shop, talking things out, making an effort, thinking of reaching out to finally, finally, hold Laurent’s hand.  It’s strange, looking at Laurent and knowing he’s the only other person on earth that feels the same way he does. Where else would Damen go? Who else would he talk to? No one will ever get it, not the way Laurent does. And Laurent knows it. He must, or else he would not be sitting here either. There is only this, Damen thinks. At least for him, there will only ever be this.

So there is that. Damen is hopelessly devoted to Laurent. But that doesn’t make getting back together with him a good decision. Love would not be a good reason to return to an abusive relationship.

Another NOT good reason would be Damen believing the fact that he made mistakes cancels out Laurent’s harmful behavior. The text makes that explicitly clear through Neo:

Neo’s pen hops; a period appears at the end of a sentence. “Apologies can be hard to navigate. It’s sort of like… You’ve wronged me, and you know that you’ve wronged me, and now you’re apologizing for it while expecting me to forgive you. It’s quite a lot to put on a person.” “There are degrees to wrong,” Damen says. His chair feels smaller, like it’s locking him in instead of holding him up. The armrests keep getting in the way of his elbows. “And it’s not like I didn’t have stuff I had to apologize for too. I don’t get why you’re trying to make this seem like a bad thing.” “I’m not.” “Then why—” “Do you think you deserved an apology from Laurent?” Damen leans back and back and back, until his shoulder blades find something solid. Did he deserve…? He’d wanted one, once. In Nikandros’s guest room, with only beige and white and terracotta everything around him, he’d had staring matches with his own phone. He’d thought Laurent might call, at the very beginning. Apologizing. Begging. But Laurent never did. “Yeah,” Damen says.  Neo’s head begins to tilt. “You don’t sound too sure about that.” “I am sure.” “All right,” Neo says. “Why do you deserve an apology?” “I told you already. He treated me like I was an idiot.” “How?” “How—what?” “How exactly did he treat you like you were an idiot? What were his actions towards you?” “I,” Damen starts, but something in Neo’s face makes him pause. “He’d say things when we argued.” “Such as?” “That I was an asshole.” Neo nods. “And how did you feel when you heard him say that? Did you feel like it was fair?” “I felt like he was an asshole,” Damen says. “Sometimes.” “Whereas now you feel like he was right?” He was right about Nicaise. And maybe about Ancel, too. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” “I don’t want you to say anything,” Neo says. “I’m just trying to get you to think about things from a different perspective. Laurent apologized, which is an important—not to say crucial—step in rebuilding any kind of relationship. But it seems to me that you’re holding onto this newly found belief that because you acted a certain way, because you made mistakes, you somehow deserved the way he treated you throughout the last stages of your relationship.” “That’s not what I think,” Damen says.  “All right. Then you think you deserved the apology because the way he treated you was wrong.” “Yes. But…” “But…?” Damen’s face feels hot, the heat lodged right over his molars. “Doesn’t it kind of cancel out? Like, we both fucked up.” “Those are two different issues,” Neo says. “So no, they don’t cancel out. What he did to you and what you did to him are obviously connected, but someone doing something wrong or bad is not an excuse to do the wrong or bad thing back to them.” Neo gives his pen a tap. “Or it does, I suppose. It depends on your belief system. But you don’t strike me as an ‘eye for an eye’ fan.” I don’t want any eyes, Damen thinks. 

I interpret the failed second try (or second strike) of Damen and Laurent’s relationship to have been somewhat based on the “cancel out” reasoning from above. The “cancel out” and move past approach  did not work because they failed to address the many insecurities, communication failures, and problematic patterns that plagued the first time around. A discussion with Neo (again) makes this clear. Damen hasn’t yet learned to listen to what Laurent is saying without letting his insecurities and anger get in the way:

But Damen isn’t in Laurent’s position. You’ll never get it, Laurent had said about Nicaise. Maybe it’s true. “I get why he did it. I’ve been thinking, and it’s not—I get it. Nicaise being embarrassed, wanting Laurent in the room because he was the least angry of—” “I don’t think that’s why,” Neo says. “Or at least, that’s not what you’ve just told me Laurent said about the whole thing.” “What?” “Laurent talked extensively about roles. Did you notice that?” “No.” “He presents himself as the scapegoat for Nicaise’s anger, while you’re the one Nicaise admires and wants to impress.” Tap, tap, tap. Damen imagines Neo’s fingers flying across the keyboard. “It seems to me Nicaise wasn’t concerned about the different intensity levels of your—as in, yours and Laurent’s—anger. He knew you were both angry.” “Laurent was better at handling it.” “Was he?” “I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy,” Damen says. Guys, his brain supplies, helpful as ever. “I still can’t. Even now, I know it’s not—that’s not important. I was yelling at Nicaise. I wasn’t listening.” “And that’s why Nicaise didn’t want you to go with him to the clinic?” Damen closes his eyes. He needs to repaint his ceiling, do something about the lack of texture there.  “Laurent said something about abandonment,” Neo tries. A nudge. “You’ve mentioned Nicaise doesn’t do well with change, that he’s got a tendency to latch onto routines and people. Do you think it might be possible that he was trying to preserve the relationship he has with you?” “By keeping me out of a medical examination room.” “Yes.” “That’s what Laurent said.” “Well,” Neo says. “It sounds plausible.”

Damen wanted magically for them to be over their past:

“Right,” Damen says. “You don’t do should and shouldn’t. I forgot.” “Are you upset?” Are you angry with me? “I don’t know,” Damen says. “We were supposed to be past this, and now it’s out there and I can’t—we can’t—” “How were you supposed to be past this, if this had never been discussed before today?” “You said it’s impossible to discuss everything.”

So, I don’t think it’s a strong interpretation of the text to say that @thickenmyblood is trying to present Damen in an unfairly negative light in order to excuse Laurent’s much worse behavior and thereby make it okay for them to get back together. Cancelling out isn’t what the HEA of the story is set up to be about.

That said – and given the fact that Damen is still in love with Laurent – what GOOD reasons might Damen have to try the relationship again?

For one, he is beginning to understand better what the fights with Laurent about Nicaise were about. Moreover, they have now explicitly acknowledged that they are co-parenting Nicaise and Laurent has expressed a clear commitment to them parenting Nicaise as a team.

For another, Damen has a much improved understanding of the role of therapy and the complexities of mental health. He has a long ways to go on this front, but I don’t think we’ll see him dismissing or belittling Laurent’s mental health needs. Moreover, Damen has ways of addressing his own mental health needs and talking things through with a person who doesn’t share his triggers and emotional investments around Laurent.

For a third, he has made a commitment to working through their issues in therapy and has concluded that he trusts Laurent to try just as hard as he will to repair and strengthen their relationship.

Crucially, Damen has also learned to stand up for himself when he feels Laurent is implying that he is incapable of understanding things. This means he can point it out and Laurent can recognize when he is retreating into a defensive, harmful pattern. This also allows Damen to indicate that something isn’t obvious to him and to ask Laurent to explain it kindly and clearly. I think that is the only way they can reconcile their very different life histories and relationships to social normativity.

ONCE AGAIN, believing this about HIUH Damen relative to HIUH Laurent does not mean that I believe this is something all (or even very many) real life people who were previously in unhealthy relationships should aim for or could achieve.  

Which brings us to our bonus questions:

A. Is an HIUH Laurent who harms Damen through abusive behavior mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

No, in fact, this is not a mischaracterization. Laurent abused Damen in canon. He took him as a slave. He sought Damen’s public humiliation. He had Damen whipped to an extent that would have killed most other people. He placed Damen in a situation that (for almost any other person) would have resulted in a violent public rape. He also forced Damen to engage in public and non-consensual oral sex. Later, when he understood Damen more emotionally and was feeling insecure or threatened, he lied about his feelings and motivations out of shame and self-hatred and with the aim of hurting Damen enough to drive him away.

B. Is an HIUH Damen who chooses to be with Laurent despite past abuse mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

Damen fell in love with Laurent after all that abuse because he came to understand its source and because he saw other sides of Laurent that were caring and honorable and expressed a commitment to achieving justice, even if not by fully honest means. He came to understand Laurent as a survivor, even before he became aware of what exactly Laurent had survived. He stuck with Laurent through all of Laurent’s attempts to push him away and fought for what should have been an impossible relationship. And throughout this process, he learned about his own naivete and to question key elements of his upbringing, like the quest for war glory and the belief that “perfect treatment” justified slavery.

Captive Prince is a seductive and enthralling trilogy. And we willingly suspend any disbelief about whether Laurent’s trauma can truly be overcome simply by Damen’s noble nature and magical healing cock.

Why not do the same for HIUH? (Or, you know, just stop reading it.)

Although I do think Maca may owe us some healing cock. Just sayin’.

[steddieunderdogfics]

The rainbow connection by acatcalledmalice 18 years is slow burn enough right ?

The Rainbow Connection by Acatcalledmalice

Rating: Mature

188,888 words, 18/18 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drugs, Sex, Alcohol, Alcohol Withdrawal, Mental Breakdown, Medical Procedures, Medical Inaccuracies, Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Musician Eddie Munson, Musician Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Miscommunication, Unreliable Narrator, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Rock Stars, Cowboy Hats, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary

This is a love story. It's easy to say that looking back now on the eighteen years have past. time is a strange mistress and she does as she pleases. But to start at the end is a strange place to start any story. When Rainbow Graveyard made it, performing as his alter ego Munster, should have been everything Eddie had wanted. But Eddie's not a person who was built to be loved, and doesn't know what to do with the feelings that are growing for his bandmate by the day. The upside down might not have killed him, but Eddie never imagined that being on stage with Steve every night would be the thing that finally finished him off. When he got on stage, Steve's alter ego Knocks took the wheel, and what Knocks wanted was Munster. But that wasn't Steve, Steve was too much, loved too fast and hard, destroying everyone and everything he touched. Including himself. It was all so much easier before the world of music came knocking on the door, when it was just him and Eddie against the world. Now something unsaid hangs heavy over them both. But that is the middle of our tale. Our story starts with a guitar, and a promise. And rain, because it always rains in a love story.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Slow Burn.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[decadentbutterflies]

"Made up beef of who's the prettiest child" are we calling bullying of Arya's looks a "made up beef" now? It's not a beef, it's us having to explain to people who don't seem to read Arya's chapters or because for some reason y'all are so against Arya growing up to be pretty, which she literally is if you're actually reading the books.

"Growing up to be a model" the fact that this person tries to exaggerate and ridicule that point (manipulation tactic btw) of fans explaining why she's not in fact ugly, speaks volumes.

Sounds like y'all just want the "made up beef" to be Sansa being right and Arya being ugly 🤷🏾‍♀️.

"And getting things she specifically doesn't want to be" Being a Lady? Because she was led to believe she'd be terrible because she's not as good in being proper etc. as Sansa. She isn't aversive to a higher position though. She even wishes "she was as good as her sister" in being ladylike and why she's so insecure - including her looks - from the "made up beef".

Nah, because people for some reason don't want to admit that she's ALSO feminine. No one here is proving that she "is the most girliest feminine girl", there's people trying explain to thickheaded people that don't seem to read her chapters, that she's is feminine too AND pretty. Like anyone actually reading the books can take a hint over believing what young Sansa bullied her over when she had mud on her face too most of the time lol. Like I get you love her, but she's clearly an unreliable narrator.

She's just not patriarchal feminine, but that only makes her "weird little girl" in some people's eyes in the books, but I assume that's not what this person meant because of the "embodiment of weird little girl vibes, just in a medieval setting" No clue what that's supposed to mean. The only times she was weird was when she was just being a CHILD. Other than that I'd say "weirdest" thing is the magic.

But what does that have to do with us proving she's also feminine? Feminine girls can't be weird or? And what does the "shipping girlies" mean? Like is there a problem with people shipping Arya now? 🙄 Ik y'all want Arya to be forever alone, but cmon now this is getting ridiculous. Just bc she didn't want to be tied down and bred like a mare doesn't mean she doesn't like men etc.

I'm genuinely confused as hell by these people 🤦🏾‍♀️ "so many of you don't even read the books, how does one read - and thinks - instead of" and proceeds to write another, their own mischaracterization.

It's Sansa stans that aren't actually accepting Sansa lmao, otherwise they wouldn't try to change her so much. Fanon/how her stans see her is so much different from the books. Hell, in all of Sansa fics I've read she acts more like Daenerys lmao. Arya at least acts like Arya 🤷🏾‍♀️.

[prince-liest]

I feel like this is a risky question but if you don’t want to answer you know what to do. Reading 666 I questioned so many things on love and relationships that I’d already started to question before, but not to such extent. Inevitably this led to a talk with my psychologist (you know how people joke “my therapist will hear about you” well yeah that happened) and asked her what’s the difference between romantic and platonic love if we exclude social expectations. To this she replied it’s sexual chemistry you can have with more than one person, and nothing more. Beside that, it’s technically still just “platonic”. The more I think about it the more sense it makes. In which case, I wanna ask if you agree as an aroace, and in the terms of 666 does that technically mean Alastor loves Vox in that sense? I think you’ve said before he wouldn’t go as far with anyone else, so I guess I’m asking you if he feels genuine sexual chemistry with him, because I do have a hard time figuring that out while reading (unreliable narrator is my enemy) and most of the time I’m even more confused than Vox is on how much Alastor is enjoying anything sex related

I have a couple of things to say about this one, haha. It was interesting to think about, and I'm admittedly more delighted than I should be that I've made it into someone's therapy session, hahaha.

Firstly, I disagree with your psych about how to define romantic love and I think the same would go for a ton of people both aro and allo. "Friends with benefits" is a known concept that is different from "romantic partner" for a reason, and I don't think we'd have so many "we started out friends with benefits but, oh no, we caught feelings down the line, how unexpected!" romance plotlines if friends with benefits was the same thing as a romance apart from social expectations. Also, this way of describing non-platonic love makes it impossible for non-aro ace people to love romantically purely by definition, and I think many non-aro ace folks would disagree with that.

Secondly, Alastor isn't sexually attracted to Vox in 666 regardless. He enjoys the things they do, which is very different. Not to get too clinical about it, but he doesn't even tend to experience sexual arousal unless they're getting up to the very specific type of acts that he's personally into, which is why every time Alastor is taking on the dominant role his internal narration is pretty much just going on about wanting to eat Vox whole - it's entirely a non-sexual sadism thing for him, even if Vox is still getting off. It's possible to enjoy sexual activities for reasons other than sexual gratification, and that's about 80% of what Alastor gets out of their encounters.

If you want to see what it looks like when I write from the POV of a character who is sexually attracted to their partner as a point of comparison, I recommend reading How to Bag an Angel: Take That, Depression! and then contrasting that to Alastor's internal narrative in the 666 chapter where he fucks Vox. But as a straight answer, I write Alastor as a character who sometimes gets off on being forced into submission/humiliation, and not really all that much else.

I think defining romantic vs platonic feelings can be very personal, and both psychologists and philosophers have been trying to do it for ages, so it's something that you kind of have to define for yourself - but that's my view on it as pertains to this fic, at least! I hope that was helpful!

[rbkzz]

...[*whispered*] wip wednesday?

(context under the cut)

(is this is too long?)

(i wrote a trixie/keris one-shot)

(it is my first written thing)

(i am so nervous!)

(trixie pov)

Penelope Bunce is once again whirling around our room like a frizzy haired tornado.  She has literally picked up and put down every single article of clothing, book, paper, or other object at least twice (except the box under my bed, thank goodness I spelled that).

She’s such a menace – their whole golden trio is.  People say I’m annoying because of my dust, short attention span, and possessive tendencies (well anyone who had to grow up in a lower faedom and pay a tithe to the aes sidhe of all your most precious belongings each year would end up being a possessive brat too! I just don't like to share if I can avoid it is all)... 

…but I think the ‘golden trio’ made up of Snowbuncebelove should get an actual award for being the most annoying, self-absorbed students at Watford.  Nobody else would stand a chance - they’d win that award category every year.

Recently on discord my alpha @noblecorgi was lamenting the lack of lesbian smut in the CO fandom... they then got into an interesting discussion with @roomwithanopenfire about pixies/other fae folk. There was aaaalso a recent conversation about Niamh and their perspective in AWTWB about how the leads of CO had been living in their own bubble at Watford (unreliable narrators the whole lot of 'em!!)

Even though I don't write I loved the ideas that were shared, so I decided to try to smoosh them all together into a Trixie/Keris one-shot lesbian smut fic.

I got really excited about writing and caught up in the experience of it - it was so much fun!! Now I know why people do it! @roomwithanopenfire even beta read for me for which I am soooo grateful ♡♡♡♡

......aaaand then the next day I embarked on an intense perfectionist shame spiral (iykyk) and decided I should hide myself and my ideas away forevermore 🥲

However...... my brain itself is an unreliable narrator 🫠 And my recent therapy homework is to regularly try new things, mess up publicly, and be imperfect in order to rewire my brain to understand that I am still okay even when I am bad at things. Sooo I am posting part of my first fic here as therapy homework and for accountability as well as to continue on my plight of becoming consistently and unabashedly imperfect. Maybe someday I'll find the courage to post it on ao3 😬

I don't know about tags because I'm still so confused and shy about putting myself out here on tumblr 🙊 but I doooo want to say THANK YOU for tags and hellos! I love to read what y'all are up to, even though I usually wait til fics are posted in completion before starting (I'm too impatient to wait for chapter updates 🤪). xoxo!

my first wip wednesday!

[therenlover]

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Seven: Giveth and Taketh Away

Pairings: Tav/Raphael, Tav/Raphael/Haarlep, Raphael/Haarlep, Past!Astarion/Tav

Word Count: 6,400~

Synopsis: After some time to think, Tav accepts what she's always wanted, deep down. Raphael and Haarlep are happy to oblige.

Rating: E (+18)

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

Tags: Threesome, Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Making Love, Vaginal Sex, Unreliable Narrators, Memory Loss, Love Triangle (Maybe Even A Love Venn Diagram At This Point)

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

--------

Tav had plenty of time to think before Raphael came to collect her.

She was grateful for it. There were quite a few things on her mind she needed to parse through before facing him again. It wouldn’t have done her any good to go into their inevitable discussion about the party and everything that had happened after without being fully prepared. Still, he could’ve come a bit sooner, if it had been up to her.

Seeing Haarlep helped the time go by. The incubus came down twice a day like clockwork to change out her food, begrudgingly clean the chamberpot with a quick prestidigitation, and treat her to some small talk. Tav appreciated the reserved, polite conversation that broke up the monotony of her imprisonment. Once things were back to normal, whatever that meant, she hoped the easy companionship they’d built could be repaired. Things were bound to be easier once the looming threat was dealt with.

The threat, though… that concept was difficult for Tav to wrap her head around as were the potential outcomes, even with all the time in the world to grapple with things.

In the night she’d press her ear against the cool stone of the cell wall, waiting to hear the crashing reverberations of combat. They never came. As the days passed Tav was almost disappointed when she was greeted by silence on the other side of the wall, but not because she wanted to escape or see her former friends again. No. She just wanted all of this to be over.

Thankfully, things wouldn’t last much longer. The party’s arrival couldn’t be far away now, given all the time that had passed. As long as Haarlep had passed her message along to the master he could clear everything up with her former party and things could go back to the way they were. The way they should be.

She could curl up in his stupidly soft bed with a bowl of fruit and one of the innumerable fluff novels he kept around for her before luring him into the sheets beside her, if only to feel the sensation of warm skin-on-skin again. How had she ever spent months sleeping on the ground in her threadbare bedroll? She’d only been in the cell for a few weeks and yet she couldn’t wait to be off of her straw-stuffed mat and back on a real down mattress.

When Raphael did come to her, she half expected him.

Haarlep was late with her bowl (she’d been upgraded from oat slop to stew as soon as they’d considered her capable of not purposefully choking herself on a carrot) and with every minute that passed she became more and more certain that the day was finally here. She waited with a somehow eager patience on the edge of her cot, letting the hours drift past without moving a finger.

Then she heard the footsteps pause in the hallway.

Tav gripped the thin fabric and pressed herself into the cot. He really had come. Any lingering doubts about her own devotion slipped from her mind.

Raphael opened the wooden cell door without knocking or announcing himself. His eyes glanced about the room until he found her waiting. She greeted him with a smile. He almost… winced.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Tav murmured, tone plain and unshaken, taking in every glorious inch of him. Her savior. His skin was still damp from a bath and his nails looked freshly manicured. Still, he looked as he ever did: infallible from head to toe. His eyes similarly raked over her, taking in her hunched features with a measured fascination.

Shame she hadn’t had the chance to freshen up before he saw her.

Raphael gave her his best stern look but somewhere beyond the storm, his eyes were soft. “I assume you’ve pulled yourself together now that you’ve had time to cool down, little mouse,” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the half-wet strands. There was something almost boyish in the stubborn man as he leaned against the door frame, filled with a natural charisma that both soothed her and set her teeth on edge. It reminded her of how he’d looked the night she first set her hands on the Orphic Hammer in Sharess’ Caress. He’d had the air of someone who knew they’d already won the game before his opponent even knew it began.

“No need for groveling and apologies, I’ve decided to forgive your transgressions out of the goodness of my heart. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she meant every crooked, breathy syllable.

The devil let out an unexpected laugh. “There. Was that so hard?”

She pasted that eager smile back on and shook her head. It hadn’t been hard at all. Why had she found it so hard before?

There was an easy familiarity between them that Tav took for granted before. They fell into their roles as easy as she breathed. It was different than it had ever been, though, strangely comfortable as she contorted to him and his whims without a hint of shame hiding in her chest. She wanted this. She wanted him. There was no reason to feel guilty for that! Not now that she knew the truth.

It had been her choice to stay at his side all along.

Neither of them mentioned how things ended between them the last time they’d spoken. Instead, Raphael glazed past it as if it were a one-off argument that hadn’t held any weight at all in the grand scheme of things. Knowing there was no more left to say about it… it was the sweetest relief she could’ve possibly imagined.

Tav pushed herself up from her cot, smoothing the innumerable wrinkles in her cotton nightgown as she stood on steady feet.

“If you’re ok with it, could I go back up to the house with you and take a bath? Please? Or maybe just get a change of clothes, if that’s too much?” It took no effort to pull her gaze away from him and focus on the lines between the stones of the floor. Her eyes followed their twisting paths. They ran anywhere but to him and the waiting expression on his face. “I know I’ve given you absolutely no reason to trust me, but I promise I just…” her voice broke, “I just want to feel clean.”

She could hear Raphael hum in consideration before letting her eyes dart up toward him just long enough to catch his pensive gaze. He looked troubled. Oh, how dare she cause him trouble!

“Never mind, I’m so sorry. I just-”

“I suppose I could allow it,”

Cool, blissful relief flooded Tav’s chest.

Raphael came a few paces closer as he spoke, sizing her up. “Only if I join you, though. For your safety, of course. We wouldn’t want a wandering bat to creep their way in and snatch you up while my back is turned, now would we?” His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he came toe to toe with her.

Tav’s heart thrummed. Her head spun. She batted wet eyes at the floor again, as innocent as the lamb but begging for his sweet slaughter.

“I missed you,” She whispered.

“Of course you did,” Raphael shook his head. “What would you do without me? I can’t exactly say the feeling is reciprocated. You can’t imagine how much work I’ve been able to complete without you there to distract me,”

An involuntary shudder slammed its way through Tav’s body. Somehow, though, she stayed sturdy through the chill. That sturdiness only threatened to disappear when Raphael’s arm shot out to steady her against his body.

She leaned into the warmth like a dog.

“I’m sorry. I can stay here if it’s better for you, as long as you visit sometimes. Or not, you don’t have to. I just want what you want. I want whatever is best for you,”

“Tav, I...” He laughed again, breathy and troubled, but she couldn’t focus on it, not when he had just said her name. It sat so beautifully in his voice. Nobody else could have said her name so tenderly if they’d tried. “Can I tell you something, just between the two of us?”

“Of course. Anything.”

The devil leaned in, placing his lips close to the sensitive shell of her ear. His breath was a gust of chimney-hot smoke on her skin. “I did miss you bothering me.” His thumb rubbed a small circle into her arm. “In fact, at least once an hour I look up from my work and find myself more than disappointed to not see you peeking into my office, trying to lure me to bed.” He pulled his face away from hers. His eyes were filled with fire.

“Oh,” Tav gulped.

“Oh?” Raphael tilted his head slightly. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Oh?’”

He was still laughing under his breath. How was he always laughing? She hoped so desperately he was laughing with her and not at her.

“How does it make you feel, Tav, knowing I missed you?”

She felt the urge to shudder again from somewhere deep in her stomach, but it was a warm shudder this time.

“Good,” She whispered.

He smiled his toothy smile. “Good.”

And without warning he was kissing her, pressing his tongue against her chapped, waiting lips, and she was letting him in, wrapping shaking hands around his broad shoulders to pull him as close as she could pretend was unintentional.

He was hot and sweet like summer fruit in her mouth. This kiss was different from anything they’d shared before. Kissing outside of sex was so new. Her touch starved body was so addicted to the sensation that she didn’t bother pulling away for air, even as her lungs burned. Tav could drown there in his lips and teeth and eyes until she died in his arms. When he pulled away, she whined like some poor deprived animal.

Oh, how he liked that noise! His eyes said it as clearly as his lips did.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred low, “I’m going to enjoy you until the only thing you think about when you see me is how grateful you are to be mine,” His last word was a growl. Guttural. Animal.

And Tav wanted.

She wanted like she was starving and drowning and burning and ailing and his touch was the sole sure to put a stop to it all. Only his lips on her temple could give her air. Only his hands wandering below her dress to squeeze her rear could save her from the flames. But he was flame too; roaring through her ears, singeing her skin, devouring her whole. She was destroyed in the crucible of his body but he remade her in his image, an idol to the best and worst of his heart. Her very existence was a devotion. Nothing remained of her but the gracious pieces of himself that he’d lent to her.

After everything that had led her here, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tav gripped Raphael’s back harder, leaving behind a collage of jagged, bloody crescent moons. Her breaths came in ragged pants.

“Take me home,”

The devil smiled and hoisted her up, letting her thighs wrap around his hips. “As my lady commands,”

She lavished his neck as he carried her effortlessly through their home, their palace, a house of stolen hopes and dreams. Dark bruises bloomed with each kiss. She could feel his pulse quicken and thunder beneath her lips. Raphael’s nails grew long, cutting into the fabric of her already ratty skirt as he walked, wings ripping through the back of his emerald tunic. He was losing control of himself with every taunting moment that passed.

Finally, she held an ounce of power in her shaking hands.

Despite that, though, his touch was still intentionally gentle. He held her firmly to him without gripping her fragile body too tight. How rare a treat, to be treated so gently while his lust raged on, proven by the growing hardness pressing against her barely clothed core.

She silently thanked him for forgetting underwear when he redressed her all those weeks ago.

Raphael took the stairs two at a time and it wasn’t long before they were once again bathed in the orange glow of Avernus. Its light washed over Tav like a baptism. Had she ever really appreciated the beauty hiding in the Hells? The swirling auroras of reds and yellows dancing in the endless burning skies? She let her lips pull away from the underside of Raphael’s stubbled chin just long enough to close her eyes and bare her face to that glorious, radiant light.

He met her movement with a growl, diving in to mark her waiting, exposed neck with some love bites of his own.

Electricity raced down her sternum and straight into her warming cunt the second he sucked hard against a prominent vein. She keened as his sharp incisors threatened to break the thin skin. She wanted to feel him rip into her, feel him below the surface, feel consumed and desired… he didn’t though. He just laved his tongue over the angry red scratches and pulled his mouth away again.

Around them, the house was quiet. Not a single anguished wail rang out. The only sounds were his heavy footsteps and the mingling of their heaving breaths. Tav brought her mouth back up to his jaw to fill the sudden quiet in her mind.

“The things you do to me,” he groaned the moment her lips met his skin again, squeezing her thigh. “You little succubus you. Spending too much time with Haarlep must’ve turned you into one of their kind, that’s the only explanation. You’ve bewitched me with your wicked wiles,”

Tav’s heart stopped with each compliment. She hung on his every word.

Since when had he been so doting? Taking care to hold her gently, passing out sweet nothings like candies… Had her confession spurred on this new side to his affections? He put a stop to her thoughts as he suddenly shifted the weight of her body to one arm. She opened her eyes to find them in the dining room.

Haarlep was stood near the table and dressed in green again. Their robes glittered as thousands of tiny golden runes reflected the candlelight. They looked beautiful despite the pinched, anxious look on their face.

“Really?” The incubus spoke quickly, curtly. “Now?”

Raphael just continued his walk until he was upon his prey, pulling them in for their own searing kiss. Haarlep sputtered weakly but leaned into the affection just as Tav did. They didn’t whimper when he pulled away, though. They were much too proud for that. Still, Tav knew that look in their eyes as their upright posture softened.

“Yes, now,” Raphael replied. “Join us?”

Haarlep didn’t need to be asked twice.

They moved together to the boudoir, Haarlep’s hands wandering to her hair as they kissed her back and shoulders. She continued her ministrations on Raphael too, using her free hand to unbutton his collar and gain access to fresh skin. The devil was only driven to get them into bed faster with every distracting kiss and touch. By the time they passed through the threshold, though, his patience was waning.

The moment they were safely within the walls of his bedroom Raphael was quick to toss Tav gently onto a cushioned bench beside the baths. When he stood over her with his wings flared he almost looked like a vengeful angel come to deliver her to salvation. How apt. He’d always been her savior, even when she couldn’t see it.

“Do you truly insist on bathing first?” He asked, chest heaving.

Tav took one look at the grime on her skin and gave a sheepish nod. How human of her.

In a second Haarlep was sliding up behind the devil, wrapping an arm around his broad chest. “Don’t worry master, I’ll take care of her. Go make yourself comfortable,”

“Fine, but make it quick. My patience won’t last long today,”

Raphael turned on his heel, quickly extricating himself from the incubus's arms and walking to the bed. He began to undo the buttons on his tunic as his eyes took in the greatest treasures he’d ever owned.

Then the game began.

“Well, hello,” Haarlep murmured as they knelt beside her. “Look who finally rejoined our little family,”

Their voice sounded slightly strained in it’s softness but Tav expected nothing less. Things were still difficult between them and their conversation about Haarlep’s love was still raw in both their minds. They had nothing but tenderness when they ran a hand down her face, though, or when they began to gently lift her dress over her head. She accepted the affection eagerly.

Raphael was nude by then. He settled himself on the bed, angling his body so that he could lounge and stroke himself while overlooking the pair.

It took a lot for Tav to divert her attention away from him long enough to shift out of the filthy cotton nightgown but somehow she managed, letting Haarlep discard the garment somewhere behind them. Nudity didn’t bring heat to her cheeks anymore. Not with the two of them, at least. Being bared down to their basest was so much less confusing than facing the carefully crafted facades each of the three wore, herself included. Once she helped Haarlep out of their robes they were all just skin and blood and bone. Made of all the same stuff.

They were equals.

She brought Haarlep’s waiting mouth in for a kiss before descending into the warm waters awaiting them.

It was sinful, the way the incubus’s hands caressed her skin with the bar of soap, tracing her breasts and the soft line of her stomach, hands creeping low beneath the water but never low enough. All the while Raphael was stroking himself lazily. Tav relished the gentle touch and leaned her back against Haarlep’s steady form. Their own erection was waiting for her, pressing against her thighs.

The second their skin touched Raphael hissed a sigh.

“Careful, Haarlep,”

Then it was Tav’s turn to sigh, because Haarlep was rutting up into her thighs, so close to her wanting heat.

“What was that Master? I couldn’t hear you. I was too focused on this delicious little thing,”

Raphael growled softly, but did nothing, hand falling away from his cock. It wasn’t needed when he could feel every slow, delicious thrust Haarlep made.

“Must you draw this out?” the devil asked.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask for what you want,” Haarlep taunted back.

Throughout everything Tav was silent, letting soft whimpers escape her open lips with each of Haarlep’s taunting touched. She was captivated by Raphael, and from the intensity of his gaze he was more than smitten with the sight of her. After the frequency they’d been together before the party it was shocking to suddenly go cold turkey from his touch. Now, though, Haarlep’s gentility was barely scratching the itch that grew under her skin.

She needed to be dominated, body and soul, and she needed it yesterday.

As if he could tell, Raphael was finally merciful.

“You’re both clean enough. Get up here now,”

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Haarlep teased, “but I suppose I’ll humor you this once,” And just like that, their bath was over.

Tav felt like a naiad as she rose out of the water, body lithe and entrancing as she fought the urge to bolt up the stairs to the bed. She walked slowly and Haarlep flanked her. Their hands roved over her wet skin, evaporating the water with the sheer heat of his infernal skin. Vapor rose around her. She supposed she must look like some sort of goddess emerging from the mist. Raphael was certainly looking at her as if she was.

He propped himself up on his elbows, waiting, expectant.

She paused.

Haarlep didn’t wait with her. They passed her without a thought, crawling into the big bed like they’d done thousands of times and settling in at Raphael’s side. It looked so inviting. It almost looked… safe. Still, she stood paralyzed.

Raphael held out a hand. “I refuse to start without you, darling. This is all about you, after all,”

Tav was stunned. For what felt like the thousandth time since she’d woken, Raphael shocked her.

He’d called her darling.

All at once, the life she’d never dared to dream was her reality. Gone were all traces of fear and shame. She was Raphael’s darling. She finally had a place to call her own, not for now but for forever. She was loved. She was known. There would be no more imprisonment, no more terror, no more waiting. She was a member of the family. She was home.

The last remnants of thoughts about her former friends dissipated the moment she crawled onto the bed, kneeling above Raphael as he and Haarlep took in her form greedily.

Those people she once knew were nothing.

This? This bed filled with two being waiting to adore her?

It was and always would be everything.

She met Raphael in a searing kiss, letting his hot tongue explore her eager mouth. His hands explored more than that, though. It was as if he were memorizing every curve of her nude body, every scar and blemish. Haarlep simply leaned on one arm and watched it all unfold with a slightly heartsick smile on their face. Usually Tav would’ve done more to make the poor incubus feel welcome, but she couldn’t think that far, not when Raphael’s cock was twitching so deliciously below her.

“I want you,” she whined, and he cooed at her as she hovered, waiting for permission that never came.

“What a sweet thing. Not today, though. Today, I want to try something new,”

The devil was unusually gentle as he wrapped clawed hands around her waist and maneuvered her down onto the bed. She blinked up at him, confused. Haarlep seemed confused too as Raphael came in for another kiss.

“You’ve been so very brave, Tav. How I wish I’d seen your loyalty sooner,” he whispered against her lips, pressing his own to hers almost… chastely. “Let us take care of you. Let us show you how valued you are,”

Was she dreaming?

She had to be dreaming.

Raphael’s hands did feel real. His weight above her was solid and sure, keeping her pressed to the bed as he kissed down her jaw, pawing at her breasts. Even his voice was right as it hummed more praise into her skin.

Her wildest dreams blossomed with every press of his lips to her waiting body.

If she hadn’t been dripping wet before, she definitely was now.

Haarlep’s hands joined Raphael’s, gently rolling her nipples between their lithe fingers, running feather-light nails down her abdomen. Tav could barely breathe through the intensity of it all. Where were the five-minute bursts of intense fucking? Where was Raphael’s usual impatience? It all melted away with her mind as Haarlep took a breast into their mouth. Raphael seemed to purr at the sound of her eager whines.

“It’s like your pretty little body was made just for us, isn’t it Haarlep?”

The incubus hummed a reply, sending a wave of warm breath against her sensitive bud.

Tav arched up her back to chase the sensation. She was caged in by bodies on all sides. It was searing hot flesh on flesh no matter where her body ran.

Raphael brought a clawed hand to his cock again while she writhed. There was no aloof joy there, though, no smarmy grin waiting to greet her as she looked into his eyes. He looked human despite the wings and horns. His smile was a gentle one.

“Tell me you want me,”

Her voice was a shuddered gasp, escaping her lungs and tripping over her loose tongue and lax lips.

“I’ve always wanted you. I need you. Don’t ever go away, I think I’d die without you,”

Truths, truths, truths.

Dirty little truths that wormed their way out over all those tortured years.

He parted her folds gently, taking great care to make sure his claws didn’t dig into the sensitive, wet flesh as he brushed her entrance with the leaking head of his cock. “I don’t want to wait for you any longer, Tav,”

And there was her name again!

The things he did to her, the ways he made her feel- up and down and up again. Raphael had been egocentric and predictable and even then she had loved him. Now, though… what could she do but fall ever deeper into the pit of pleasure and adoration before her?

“Take me?”

“As you wish,”

Raphael entered her in a slow smooth movement.

She welcomed him eagerly.

Through her still-parted folds she watched every inch of him disappear into her, distending her abdomen ever so slightly. He hissed as he bottomed out. Beside them, Haarlep shifted, taking up his usual position behind Raphael and stretching the man easily with a practiced hand and a bit of oil from the nightstand.

So this was making love.

The usual grunts and moans were there, yes. They would never go away. Somehow, though, the connection thrummed between the three as they began their undulating dance. Haarlep into Raphael and Raphael into Tav. She felt it in her chained soul. Every movement was deliberate. Hesitant, even. This was new territory for them all.

Haarlep’s eyes seemed almost weepy above the pair despite their nature.

They felt it too.

“Do you feel good, dearest,” Raphael murmured, bringing his face close to hers. There was restraint lacing every word as he paced his thrusts. Tav flushed hot.

He wanted it to be good for her. It was always good for her, Gods was it always good, but he wanted it to be good for her.

She pulled him closer wordlessly and kissed him like she was dying.

His lips curved upwards against hers.

Tav had thought domination was what she needed, something hard and fast to make her feel alive again. Who could have guessed the effect that the opposite would have on her body?

Each push of his cock into her cunt was molten. Every swipe of his thumb over her swollen clit was electric. The shape of his body was branded into her own flesh by pure heat alone. Had it always been like this? Maybe now that she finally had the ability to do more than just wail and drool as he pounded into her she could see so much worth appreciating. She brought a soft hand up to his cheek. Raphael stalled a bit, surprised.

“I love you,”

The devil yellow eyes found hers. He whispered his answer so softly into her skin that she barely made it out over the groans and breaths and slapping of skin.

“As do I, Tav,”

And then he continued on as if she hadn’t heard. As if his confession had been hidden in the bliss of their lovemaking, as it was to Haarlep. As if her whole world hadn’t imploded and burst out in a big bang of devotion the second the words left his lips

She kept that secret close to her aching heart as he filled her cunt to the brim, finally picking up his pace.

It wasn’t long from there. Haarlep was rutting rhythmically into their master and Raphael was chasing his own release just as fervently, but not without bringing her with him, finding that just right spot to slam as he kept rubbing steadily on her oversensitive nub.

She let herself surrender to him as white hot flame filled her.

Tav was on fire. Her lungs burned as she wailed, letting the reins on herself go as the flames raced up to consume her writhing body and soul. She could feel her very spirit lifting, spreading through the steamy air and drifting down in a shower of ash as her arched back fell and her breathing evened. Finally, she was a hero no more. She was an ember flickering ever so faintly in the pits of the Hells. She was a charred soul, wrapped in the cradle on Raphael’s arms as he heaved and settled onto the bed, letting Haarlep begin to clean them up.

Cleansed.

Pure.

She was tainted, yet pure.

The juxtaposition didn’t bother her. Chaos was comforting in a place like the House of Hope. She let the lasting warmth of their connection lull her into a comfortable sleep as she nestled closer to Raphael’s chest, breathing in time with his quiet, steady heartbeat.

———

When she woke, he was still there.

Thick, hazy clouds of steam floated throughout the room, cooling Tav’s skin as her eyes fluttered open to find Raphael’s chest waiting before her. He’d stayed. Her surprise was outweighed by a body-wide calm. It leaded her limbs, keeping her lazily wrapped around Raphael’s large, sleeping frame even as her mind began to wake. She smiled.

It wasn’t every day Tav got a chance to watch him with his guard down. His usually furrowed brow was slack, and drool pooled at the corner of his slightly parted lips, wetting a small spot on the pillow above Tav’s head. She wiped it away with the crook of her finger. He never looked half as peaceful when he was awake.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, she ran her fingertip along his lower lip.

His great wing twitched slightly, letting the silk blanket he had pulled over them fall below his hip and reveal his nude form. Tav breathed him in like a masterwork. Every plane of his body must have been sculpted by some great god of artistry from deep, brilliant agate. Still sweat-slick, he even glistened like a gemstone in the candlelight.

She pressed her lips to the salty skin of his shoulder.

If Tav closed her eyes again, she could almost ignore the blazing yellow sky outside the window and imagine them somewhere far away, some secluded winter cabin in the far northern lands where Raphael’s body heat would be the only thing keeping her from certain, frozen death in the wastes. He would keep her safe, though, and close. She had no doubt of that anymore.

The beginnings of a housewife fantasy had begun to weave themselves into the soft, delicate places in Tav’s heart, luring her closer to her lover's body.

He shifted in earnest now, his body waking with him. She welcomed him in warmly. Her breath was a warm cloud in the cool, smoky air.

“Good morning, Master Raphael,” She purred. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, placing another gentle kiss on his forehead. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”

The devil mumbled something intelligible, snuffling his face into her hair.

“No need to leave them for me. I’m happy right where I am.” She laughed. Tav breathed him in, the hand on his cheek bringing him closer as she relished in the musk on his skin, still tinged with soap and sex. Cherry and gun-smoke and… lemon? Tav paused, pulling her face away from his. Was that bergamot too?

Smoke sat heavy in the cool, clammy, choking air.

Raphael was still only half awake, but he groaned, stretching an arm up to the sky as he let his yellow eyes flit open.

After that, a lot of things happened at once, the first of which being that Tav realized she was not, in fact, in bed with Raphael.

Lemon had been the first giveaway. Raphael’s soap of choice was darker, something laced with patchouli and musk. Haarlep always preferred a cleaner scent. When Tav saw their eyes, with that distinct yellow glow so much sunnier than the devil’s own, it had only sealed the deal. She didn’t move to detach her body. Instead, she lay confused as Haarlep rolled onto their back.

As the incubus moved, though, they gave Tav an odd look, almost peaceful in it’s sorrow. She could hear their voice echo through her skull strangely while she watched his lips, unmoving.

“Thank you, Tavvy. Sorry about this,”

The very moment Haarlep leaned back, baring their body and chest to the room, the smoke around them seemed to thicken. At first glance, Tav had assumed it was just steam from the baths, but as it coalesced into a tighter, darker cloud she realized it was so much more. Haarlep hadn’t smelled of bergamot. This strange cloud had. Vapor swarmed to Haarlep’s chest in no more time than an eye-blink, and then from the chaos, a body appeared, as if it had been built by every wisp of dark that had been hanging in the room.

She knew that body.

In fact, she knew every sinewy curve and bend. She could have recognized his voice in a room of strangers or mapped the planes of his face with her eyes closed. It wasn’t as if his figure wasn’t burned behind her eyelids, doomed to haunt her nightmares, asleep and, seemingly, waking now as well. Things were different in person, though. More feral. More sinister. More… terrifying.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t be.

And yet there he was, flesh and blood, upon her only true friend and equal in the world. She’d been found. It was over.

Astarion.

Tav’s heart stopped beating correctly just about when Haarlep’s did, dark infernal blood spraying her face and body as the attacker turned his lean visage to her.

His red eyes softened as they took in her shaking form; the quiver in her lip and the wetness threatening to spill over her cheeks. He crooked his head to the side. “I’ve come for you, Tav,” The monster crooned gently. “It’s alright now. I’m here,”

She didn’t hear him, though, not with her focus trained on Haarlep’s shredded neck and the way their features began to melt into dark neutrality like chocolate on a summer's day. Their eyes, their true eyes, still lemony yellow but with strange, beautiful flashes of red and gold and cobalt blue, found her; soft, pleading- afraid. So afraid. She’d never seen Haarlep truly afraid in all her years at their side. Facing death alone, though, or functionally alone, seemed to be the breaking point. Their lips moved around a lead tongue, soundlessly whispering the only name that would have mattered, and, as the vampire dismounted from their broken body, she watched the last shaking breath escape their slack lips.

Tav mourned with a vengeful, horrid wail.

Confusion marked all of Astarion’s sharp features, his brow knitting together. He extended a hand to her that she quickly scrambled away from, leaving the bed altogether with nothing more than a thin silk sheet to protect herself. Her nudity before him didn’t scare her, only the vulnerability it brought, the access to all her softest, most vital places.

“Tav?” He whispered.

She did not dignify him with a response to her name. He had no right to know it. He had no right to know her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Her voice was a low growl. “I don’t know how, but I will. And I’m going to make you regret coming here,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Where is Raphael? What have you done with him?”

“Oh, come on! We meet after seven years, I come here to save you, and this is what you say to me?”

Baffled annoyance was growing in Astarion’s voice as he prowled closer.

Tav did not back down. Not from him. She was Raphael’s only defense now, his closest companion, and when he had poured her anew from the fires of his heart he had made her strong enough to withstand this, if only for him. Haarlep had too, in their way. It was thanks to the love they’d shared that she was able to stand strong on her own feet again after so long feeling scared and small. She growled like the deeply feral animal she was.

His guard dog. His last line of defense.

“Where. Is. Raphael.”

Thankfully, Astarion didn’t have time to answer before her question answered itself.

“Beautiful job, darling. I can take it from here,”

Her head snapped back to the shimmering entrance of the boudoir and there was Raphael, waltzing in at the bottom of the stairs with Shadowheart’s bruised form dragging behind him by the wrist. She was upright but battered, not that Tav cared. Tears finally fell as relief filled her chest. The chill in the room was replaced with that signature, flaming warmth that followed the infernals everywhere. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until it was gone.

Beside her, Astarion snarled. His eyes darted between Tav, Raphael, and Shadowheart, never pausing in one place too long as he took in his surroundings.

Tav didn’t risk moving. She was placed directly between the two rival men. If she tried to move back to Haarlep she’d have to move through Astarion, but if she chose to move towards Raphael she would have to turn her back on the vampire. It gave him too many opportunities.

“Welcome back to the House of Hope, Lord Ancunin. I can’t say I remember sending out an invitation, but I’ve been expecting you nonetheless,” Raphael spoke with his usual confident air. Shadowheart groaned, trailing behind. “I think you lost this on your way to find my pets.” He raised the cleric’s limp arm. “Care to take back your garbage?”

Shadowheart replied before her companion could. “We’re here for Tav,”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is! So if you’ll kindly let us do this the easy way-” Astarion took a few more steps towards Tav, but stopped, shocked, as she yanked away from his body.

This was her chance.

Stalled in his surprise, Astarion gave her just enough of a window to wrap the sheet closer around her body and make a run down the stairs, slamming into Raphael’s waiting chest.

The vampire paused. “Tav?”

The devil grinned.

“Checkmate, little vampire. Shall we move this to my office?”

--------

(A/N: And with that, we have gotten to the juicy bit! Thank you for your patience with my infrequent upload schedule, my boss is a bald asshole who saps any will to be creative out of me, but I'm so glad I can continue sharing my writing and ideas despite his existence. On that note, if any writers are looking for a mutual to throw ideas at and get ideas thrown at them in return, I'm your fool! Thank you again for reading, hugs and kisses. Sorry for putting you through the wringer there at the end. It's only a little more suffering and then the joy can start <3)

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

Taglist: @the-pale-elfs-love