#cw: referenced character death

[mikodrawnnarratives]

TW BLOOD

(bit ltr on)

TW REFERENCED CHARACTER DEATH

@naffeclipse

Part 1 | Part 2 | This is Part 3 | Extra

Gonna add some after comic shenanigans because I have thought of a LOT

It'll be linked as Extra

likely will be comprised of memes with maybe some serious

Long post under the cut!

And rambling right after like. a lot. jkfdjklsd

It’S DONE

Well besides the extras and memes I’ll include in another part that. I don’t know when I’ll finish. But stay tuned I’m gonna go ham. I can't wait to share the memes especially loll

Fair warning my rambling here gets a little all over the place so if I repeat myself. Sorry lol. 

If I knew how to include a second read more I would

anyway , I think I've made this comic lighter towards the end of this comic (both on purpose with the backgrounds and story lol) but this ending I hope is a combination of bittersweet and hopeful. Y/n gets to have a new family and connection to humanity that I think would be beneficial. 

How they’d take finding out Y/n is a VAMPIRE is it’s own can of worms that you can decide for yourself how would go down. Best outcome is that Y/n continues to watch over the generations influenced by Vanessa and her family during their immortality. 

Gregory and Cassie still haven’t been introduced in the Naff’s Cryptid Sightings universe by the time I post this, so if/when they are their characterization most likely will be different. And ggy likely won’t be placed in the au. Which is completely understandable! Tho an alternative path following canon fnaf more with 3 star fam, ggy n such is a concept I LOVE in the Cryptid Sightings world! I’ll go into it more ltr

Greg and Cass already have cryptid parents but now they get Uncle Eclipse and Uncle/Aunt/Pibling/Auncle/Etc Y/n. And Y/n gets to have one more purpose in protecting these ppl they will grow to care a lot about that knew Vanessa when Y/n couldn’t connect with her. Lots of sharing stories abt Vanessa occurs.

I’ll joke abt this in the extras & memes part but I think It would be so funny if Y/n can one moment be depressed and then Eclipse mentions Cass & Greg and they’re like “RIGHT I NEED TO PLAN HOW IM GONNA SPOIL THEM FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY” or “I LOST TO GREGORY LAST TIME IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN” or “I NEED TO CHECK UP ON THEM AND MAKE SURE THEY’RE ACTUALLY RESTING AFTER THEY FOUGHT THAT CRYPTID”

Eclipse is simultaneously grateful they have a new source of motivation, they haven’t seen you like this in a while, and he doesn’t dislike Gregory or Cassie. BUT since Cassie and Gregory are still Cryptid Hunters, it isn’t IDEAL lmao

On to elaborating on the comic: I love 3 star fam (by extension cassie) and Vanessa had growth offscreen so now her dying wish to y/n is like:

Nessie: hey. Make sure my kids (that aren't kids anymore) don't die ok cool cool

Sure Greg and Cass have Freddy and Roxy but between:

Demonic cryptids that have no experience being a human NOR a cryptid hunter human at that 

Vs

Friend that might just be there still since if these cryptids could have humanity there's a chance my friend sending me memes that are so in character with their personality is ALSO still human despite being vampire and maybe ness & them could reconcile and Greg and Cass could finally meet the only person ness would have considered family and-

Nessie never would have considered y/n still having their humanity if it weren't for Freddy and by extension Roxy 

And btw Ness would not have given her phone to y/n if she wasn't sure that y/n wouldn't hurt Greg and Cass.

She. Didn't expect y/n to go the extra mile and meet them in person. The phone would give y/n their contact information and all the photos of memories they missed out on

Y/n cries when they unlock ness's phone and Nessie still hadn't changed her password

The video she made that y/n sees at the end is when she was first entertaining the idea of y/n possibly still having their humanity, but still wasn’t sure. It was a video that she only ever planned on y/n seeing if she either died and/or she was sure y/n was still human in some regard. She wanted to leave y/n with something in that scenario.

Vanessa here meeting Vanessa in Cryptid Sightings and Lost episode canon would certainly be something. Vanessas from canon Cryptid Sightings would just. Not know how Vanessa got over it and neither does Ness here know

Also, there are some details for this canon divergence au that are completely settled to me and other details I don't have a solid idea for. Like, I'm not SET on how Nessie and Greg would meet, ness and Cass, if it would be at the same time, who would be doing the glitchtrapping.  Prob becuz some of those are still unclear in canon canon FNAF and others I'm just indecisive

I'll leave it a little loose, up in the air

Also the possession being done by the same cryptid wouldn’t be possible with Cryptid sighting’s universe rules so. I’m not gonna bother figuring out those details for this comic. 

But I do love the idea of Nessie growing closer to Greg and Cass and at least Ness and Greg sharing a bond over dealing with Glitchtrap

Speaking of glitchtrapped GGY in cryptid au-

The wizards FAVORITE now being in same universe as demonic cryptids that would absolutely want to slaughter Glitchtrap for possessing a KID? Making him kill multiple people, including a kid his age? Tasty. Scrumptious. I want to make a separate post just thinking Abt how canon crew for cryptid sightings might react to GGY, especially Cryptid Sun & Moon/Eclipse. I'll save most of that rambling for that potential post since there's so much angst potential. 

While im here, I’ll ask. Naff, how would Eclipse react to a child, possessed by a demonic cryptid, having killed other children? Or. Is that a spoiler since these characters could be introduced in a reunion work and whether Cassie gets possessed to mirror canon fnaf is still up in the air? 👀

@/puhpandas can be blamed for my brain rot of the GGY story and dr rabbit stuffs and the potential it could bring.

Tho I don't expect to see GGY in any continuations of cryptid sightings lol I don't know how that would work when cryptid sightings already has laid down rules for possession in that universe and Glitchtrap is already gone. I'll happily see what Gregory and Freddy are like when they (hopefully) appear in future continuations of cryptid sightings

But since this is canon divergence I can indulge in three star fam real quick

To follow canon canon FNAF (or at least the fanon built off of the scrapped security breach canon as well as what stayed in sb), Vanessa would be saved by Gregory and Freddy, I'm undecided if Cassie would join in sooner or later. Nessie would regardless have to stomach being around kids that remind her of her trauma since she can't just fully IGNORE them. Gregory would have no one since I love the angst of the theory he killed his loving family as GGY 

So. Nessie would probably know that and it would make the situation hard.

Vanessa would grow a bond with Gregory and Freddy at some point, Gregory has a head start  due to. Y'know. Glitchtrap. Hard to not have some sort of connection to the kid that went through what you did too.

Anyway, Vanessa here would be saved by Gregory and Freddy to match up with canon. Or at least, the fanon I subscribe to for security breach since canon was lack luster and scrapped all the good ideas for Vanessa last minute.

Nessie and Gregory would have the shared experience of dealing with Glitchtrap trauma and Cassie gets roped, just like canon, with the whole Mimic situation. Then Nessie has two kids that she can't fully ignore but also can't stomach COMPLETELY being there for. Fun.

But since I adore 3 star fam too much, Vanessa is able to grow attached to Gregory like a big sister eventually (i adore big sis nessie dkljssfkld look at @/boringa55binch 's stuff you'll get ITTT)

When I'd imagine Cassie would be introduced, I bet Nessie would have a harder time with her around since what we've seen of Cassie in canon is only of her getting fooled. I bet Nessie would have a harder time around her for that reason.

But it's not like she COULD leave them completely alone since she's the one with the most cryptid hunting experience. And if these kids are SO INSISTENT about getting into trouble, fine. She owes them after all

I've been undecided if Cassie would be apart of the gang when Nessie is saved so that's up in the air for what ppls like most

Time skip is about 20-30 years ltr I've determined so, Ness did die when she was relatively young. (The circumstances of how she died are a plot device yes i will admit shush it isn’t terribly important sorry jklfdsjksfd)

I'm not the greatest at drawing aged characters so there you have it, Cassie and Gregory are in their late twenties early thirties.

Nessie knows it is a gamble to ask Y/n this favor. But, she's a worried big sis, being around Roxy and Freddy I bet would have softened her heart to the general idea of cryptids not being bad, and y/n doesn't seem to be bad atm. It could be a ghost that'll haunt watch over them, or Nessie's best friend can continue to be long distance buds with Nessie's new family.

And if Y/n was truly gone and all that remained was the vampire tendencies, by this point she has trust Gregory, Cassie, Freddy, and Roxy can keep each other safe. If it was truly a mistake to give y/n her trust.

So, that's why y/n hypes themself up and visits the graveyard when Gregory is there. And it did take a lot out of them but y'know I like the idea of y/n getting close with the gang.

It does make the next cryptid reunion a little weird.

Y/n & Eclipse: YOU DIDN'T MENTION VANESSA WAS A PART OF THE CREW NOW??

Freddy & Roxy: YOU NEVER TOLD US ABOUT VANESSA

Like, imagine both describing Vanessa in previous reunions, and NOW they're finding out it was the same person.

Vampire reveal set aside for later, this is y/n's newest reason to LIVE (mentioned earlier im gonna indulge on details down here)

They can't die yet! They still have memes to send to these kids! Jokes to tell! Series to make them binge with Y/n over a call! This is the gosh darn happiest Eclipse has seen them in decades!!

Flipping between seeing Gregory and Cassie as their nephew and niece and competing with Freddy and Roxy over the title of parent. Regardless of age. (they joke but Y/n never actually competes for the title, they are much too anxious of doing something wrong. Plus, Roxy and Freddy would be pretty tough to beat)

I also think it would be hilarious if Y/n sent out Eclipse with a chancla when Gregory does a Human Hero Complex goof up that painfully reminds y/n of their Human Hero Complex goof ups. He isn't allowed to make the same mistakes without consequence. And y/n WILL stay back in the bushes with goggles to SEE IT HAPPEN. Eclipse ain't worried abt y/n's mental state when they're too invested with their Nephew and Niece.

Gregory: We are adults.

Y/n: Yeah but you're also stupid humans who don't know when to quit.

Eclipse does get a chuckle they're now complaining so much abt human's having these stupid hero/martyr complexes when they were a human not so long ago themself lol

and

didn't mention before but

Y/n and Vanessa compared to Cassie and Gregory parallels that would could be explored.

ANYWAY (get an “anyway” tracker for this post 💀)

Cryptid Sightings doesn't have Cassie or Gregory in their cast of characters yet so (i think I mentioned this earlier but still), this could age. As of writing this, no reunion fic has been published. Might make a note of that if I release this after the fact. But still. Indulge with me in the hyjinks. I haven’t even begun on Freddy being a dad to y/n and possible Roxy dynamic with y/n lolll.

This au of an au of an au still has lots of angst to be explored like. Oh yeah, Gregory was controlled by Glitchtrap too and has a fuck ton of ptsd SINCE HE WAS TWELVE

Fun discussion for later at thanksgiving over zoom. One that Greg is just like: Can we get back to video games pls. now.

The bombshell that will be Y/n revealed to be a Vampire is still up in the air like I said earlier. But, y'know, it might go better this time.

Y/n hopes for that. Hopes. Funny, you haven't smiled this much in a while.

Vanessa's death hurts. Both of them were too young for their fates. It hurt especially when they were saying goodbye for the very last time. Nessie's death was coming and Y/n knew that, but at the same time. Y/n can focus on caring about people Nessie cared about. People Nessie trusted them to care for.

I like the idea of Y/n continuing to watch over and keep in contact with the people Nessie has impacted in some way. Nessie to Gregory and Cassie to whoever they inspire and have become their successors. And they got so much more they are looking forward to now. Knowing humans and sticking around them even digitally has its risks but I think it could be pretty grounding. They have even more dates to look forward to aside from halloween. Which, will be fun to celebrate with Gregory and Cassie fam.

They can't wait to do some more living.

[leighsartworks216]

Endings and Beginnings

Father-figure!Halsin & gn!OC

My first time writing Halsin and it's because I had this thought of him helping my dnd bard Rynd learn to accept death and moving on from the past. If you have any questions about Rynd, please do not hesitate to ask

@shenanigans-and-imagines You had to read this idea when I first had it, and now you get to read it come to fruition lol

Warnings: references to past abuse, depression, self-destructive behaviors, crying, animal death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2,348

Main Masterlist

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

AO3

Tag List Form

The fire crackled late into the night, long past when it should have been reduced to embers. It chased away the darkness and radiated warmth, but its light hid the stars and illuminated decay.

Rynd turned their hands over in the firelight. How many times they'd done so was anybody's guess. They only stopped to throw more kindling in the flames when it began to die down. The irony of it wasn't lost on them; they destroyed themselves for months using necromancy to raise the dead, and now they refused to let the fire die, just so they could see the effect the dark magic had on their body.

They rubbed their fingertips together.

They remember visiting Astarion months back, desperate for the Necromancy of Thay. He'd smelled the rot then. He refused to hand over the book until they could explain why they needed it. They’d never been good at lying, so they told him: Now that they were free of the monastery, of the tadpoles - free to make their own choices, they wanted to find the parents that left them on that doorstep to begin with.

They asked everyone who could have an inkling of who their parents were. They even went back to the damned monastery to ask the monks that tortured and abused them what they knew, though they told Rynd nothing, merely cursed their existence as they always had. They searched everywhere for any hints of a Tiefling with blue skin like theirs, who had musical talents, who had white hair - any scrap of identity they could have shared with their parents.

When they could not find any hint they were alive, it seemed only natural to turn to darker magics.

The book had been a waste of time once Astarion reluctantly handed it over; nothing useful for their needs, just a lot of voices shouting in their head.

He must have told Gale. Or maybe Gale just knew. He was always better at magic than they were, always connected to the Weave. When they appeared on his doorstep, he lectured them for almost an hour about self-destruction. Once he calmed down, he finally let them inside.

He was right, of course. They were destroying themself and he knew how to spot it best after his own struggles.

Necromancy decayed the user. Weakened muscles and bone, left them ever fatigued and exhausted where no amount of sleep ever seems like enough, cut circulation from fingers and toes until they're left black and cold.

Gale had forced them to stay in his Tower until the long-term effects had lessened, until their fingers returned to a normal shade and they didn't look on the edge of death themself. Tara had been a great comfort, even if she would scold them just as much. When they were well enough, and anxious to get back on the road, Gale made them swear never to use necromancy spells ever again. Agreeing hurt more than letting the spells take their toll.

They turned their hands over again. Despite the blue tint of their skin now reaching to their fingertips, they remained cold and numb. It was harder to play their ocarina, but when had they last cared to play anyway? Music felt hollow. They felt hollow.

"You have been troubled from the moment you returned, little cub." A hulking figure, large but never intimidating to those who knew him, sat on the ground beside Rynd. Halsin held out a large handful of berries, contained in a handkerchief. All of their favorites. "I have not seen you eat or sleep. If you'll allow me, I would like to help you carry your burdens."

They stared at the berries for a long moment. When had they last cared to eat? When Gale cooked dinner for them, a few weeks ago? When did they forget the comfort of being able to eat when they wished; food that was not stale or moldy, but fresh and sweet?

They opened and closed their hands, stretching their fingers as though it would bring some feeling back to them. It didn't. They picked up each corner of the handkerchief, lifted the berries from his hand, and rested them in their lap where they grabbed a raspberry. They were fresh, of course. Halsin would only pick the best of the best for times like these. And that first bite - a shudder ran through their body, as though it was suddenly aware what it had been missing.

The tight knot around their heart, intricately woven and pulled taught, loosened ever so slightly. They leaned against Halsin, doing their best not to let their horns poke him. He didn't mind, he was used to dealing with Tieflings less considerate than them. Instead he wrapped an arm around them and pulled them closer. They closed their eyes, relaxed into the warmth he himself radiated in spirit as much as body, and slowly ate each berry one by one, until they were all gone and the sun was beginning to rise. They fell asleep with a sunbeam on their face.

-

Despite the comfort and food, when they awoke, tucked tenderly into their bedroll, it felt like nothing really changed. The sun shone brightly at its zenith high in the sky, but their mind was still so dark. The rampant thoughts that tore them down repeated over and over, cursing their very existence. They sat on the ground by a trail of ants and watched them march along, allowing the thoughts to consume them.

The children of the Grove no longer spoke to them. They begged Rynd to play every day, every hour of that first week. When there was never any response, they stopped asking. Now, they no longer came near.

Rynd had at first appreciated the isolation. Now they just wish they would ask again, even if the answer never changed.

They did not hear Halsin approach despite the scraping of his sandals over the dirt. They only noticed his presence when he lightly touched their shoulder. "Come. Let us go for a walk."

It wasn't a question, but their gut reaction told them to refuse. They clenched their hands into fists, fighting against the horrid weight dragging them down, the disparity of trying to do anything, and stood when they found a crack to break through. No matter how much they wanted to continue being alone, Halsin had always been a source of comfort and a force for good. Even if they couldn't help themself, he could find a way. They had to believe he could.

He smiled warmly. They did not feel it. He turned and led them into the woods.

They expected him to speak, to ask why they were so changed from the last time they visited. The fear that he would hung over their head like the axe of an executioner. How would they answer? Would they tell the truth or lie? What if he saw past the lie? What if Gale already told him? What if Astarion had told him? Would he ask them to leave? Their body was tainted with dark magic, surely he'd want them as far from the Grove as possible. Where would they even go? They just wanted to be alone. They just wanted to hide.

Some small part of them cringed at the thought. Isolation felt altogether safe and scary, their salvation and destruction. They didn't want to be alone. No, of course not. That's what had started this whole mess; being a lonely little orphan, trapped in their small room. Alone.

Halsin pointed out a patch of flowers growing in the shade of a sycamore tree. Rynd stared at them for a minute, thinking. They didn't know there were flowers who could grow so vivaciously in shade; the tree seemed to block the sun from every angle, preventing it from shining on most of it at any given time. For a flickering moment, their mind was not consumed with the journey to find their parents.

It reminded them of the monastery where they grew up. The big tree in the center of the courtyard that towered high above the walls, with brilliant white flowers that filled the air with the sweet fragrance of spring. When they were too small to lift themself up and see through the high window in their room, all they could do was look up at the tall branches. They’d yearned to sit under that tree, climb it, feel it and be at peace. The only times they’d ever gotten close, they’d snuck out of their room through secret passageways, but lingering meant getting caught, which meant being punished, so they never got to be around it for very long.

They loved that tree. But thinking of the monastery soured any positive thought they'd had. They could see now how terrible that place really was under the golden haze of naiveté. They grimaced as they continued to walk on.

Halsin led them along an invisible path through the trees and underbrush. If he had any thoughts about where he was taking them, Rynd couldn’t tell. For a while they’d stared straight ahead at his back. They were starting to regret coming along; they didn’t want to keep walking aimlessly through nature. All the life, the bustling world of bugs and birds… Maybe they should have gone to Baldur’s Gate instead, wallowed in Ramazith’s Tower with Rolan, Lia and Cal. Maybe there they would have found the strength to read or practice magic. (They wouldn’t have. Being so close to that much knowledge would have destroyed them.)

After quite some time, they gave in to their restlessness and looked around. Green leaves and dark bark - thrilling. They would have found it so, once upon a time. They’d loved finding books about flora during their time in the monastery. They would write countless notes on the shapes of the leaves, the types of sap and so on. Now it was just a cruel reminder of their failure.

They glanced at the ground as they passed a large oak tree and stopped in their tracks. There, curled up by the thick roots and hidden under a leafy plant, was a little mouse. They watched it for a moment, but they knew. They’d surrounded themself with death for months. They knew.

Rynd knelt down in the dirt and instinctively reached out a hand, hovering it over the tiny creature. But then they stopped. They did nothing. They promised Gale they’d not use necromancy spells ever again, but… Why did this mouse deserve to die? Why should this creature pass away into obscurity? It had lived a life, too; maybe it had a family nearby, waiting for it to come home. The thought made their heart ache, the knot in their chest tightening ever more.

But they couldn’t. They promised Gale.

Their hand hovered a moment longer still, beginning to shake before they finally dropped it to their lap. Just one spell and it would be able to scamper off. But even they knew it was one spell too many.

The mouse’s fur was white. Pure. No blood. The only dirt that could be found stained its little paws. They wondered when it died. If it was sudden or slow. It was curled up like a fetus, tail pulled toward its chest. Its pink ears seemed to stand to attention, like it was still listening to the world around it. They could almost imagine it was just sleeping.

The large druid knelt down beside Rynd, hands resting on his thighs as he took in the dead mouse and the Tiefling that mourned it. It was the first thing he’d noticed Rynd take an interest in this entire trip. And slowly the pieces started to fit together.

Despite the somber mood, he wore a soft grin as he quietly dug a small hole. He piled up all the dirt next to it, working to ensure it was deep enough for the little thing to fit inside. After all his years as a druid, it still amazed him how tiny nature could be.

Rynd watched wordlessly as he delicately scooped up the mouse in his large hands. It limply followed every slight jostle. He was careful as he laid it down on a leaf.

Rynd’s eyes burned. Their lungs felt tight in their chest.

Halsin picked up the leaf by its pointed tip and its stem, and he lowered it into the hole he made. “May the winds carry your legends forward, and the spring flowers blossom with the same richness and beauty as the life you’ve lived,” he prayed quietly. He heard Rynd sniffle beside him, but he gave them what privacy he could as he began pushing the dirt back into the hole. The mouse and leaf would decay and be returned to the soil, becoming nutrients for the large oak, so that it may continue to live on and provide homes and nourishment to thousands more creatures just like it. This was merely the next step in the never-ending cycle of life.

Before he could push the last pile of dirt onto the pile, smaller hands intervened. They tenderly guided the soil to its place, forming a small mound over the little body. A little grave. Gods, how many graves had they seen? How many had they walked over, desperately searching for any hint of familiarity? None of the headstones or mausoleums had stirred any reaction in them. Now, tears seemed to fall endlessly for a life so small.

They sniffled and gasped around their sobs, muffled by habit more than a conscious effort. Halsin touched their shoulder. In a heartbeat, they were clinging to him, trying to wrap their arms around his hulking frame as they pressed their face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, rubbing their back and gently massaging their scalp, combing his large fingers through their unruly curls. “Release your emotions, little cub. You do not have to hide them anymore. You can let go.”

The knot around their heart unraveled.

[not-krys]

[Repost] Old - Abby & Theo

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays!

A bittersweet one today. I had originally wanted to use this theme way back when I was first writing Abby and Theo's Fictober 2021 fic 'I've Waited For This', which would have featured Abby and Vincent as a lot older but chickened out and wrote something a little more lighthearted instead.

This time, feeling braver, I did explore the a lot older theme with Abby and Theo in this one, but with a sad tinge running throughout.

Raw, unedited writing down below. Heavily referenced major character death.

-----

Theo sat by Abby's side, her small hands covered in wrinkles and a little stiff, holding a long paintbrush. Theo, still as youthful as when she had met him, untouched by two hundred years, brown hair and blue eyes unchanged by time, watched patiently as her hand moved, graceful in memory but a little clumsy now with age.

"Just a little more," Abby said, her voice cracking.

"Take your time," Theo said gently, far more kind than he had sounded in her youth.

Silence overtook the two of them, sunlight peeking through the nearby window. Where she needed it, Theo held up her elbow, keeping her arm steady.

"…Talk about him, Theo." Abby asked, squinting her eyes. "Please…"

"Hondje… Are you sure?"

"A happy memory… for me, please?"

Theo closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh.

"Back when we used to live in le Comte's mansion, he often painted outdoors. He loved being in the sun. He… sometimes I thought he was the sun."

"When you came around…" Theo continued, "Well, he was happier. More than I had ever seen him. He shined brighter than before. Blindingly so some days. I was a little jealous… Very jealous, actually. How this scared little pup that came out of nowhere had managed to capture my broer so completely so quickly… Maybe it's not what you want to hear, but any truly happy memory I have of him, you're in it too."

Theo touched her elbow again.

"Remember when I came to the house the first time? Because your auntie had sent those pictures of his paintings?"

"Yes," Abby said, "I showed you all those pictures of Vincent and me… of the children… of his life ever since we left."

"You showed me that he had lived a good life and that's something I can't thank you enough for. I had failed in that regard, even in our second lives."

"Your wish allowed us to meet, Theo, so… don't sell yourself so short. My happiness… was thanks to you, after all."

"Hondje…"

"A-anyway… you were talking about how he loved painting outdoors?"

"Yeah, he'd taken you with him. By all accounts, it should have been sunny all day. But, there was a pop up shower."

"Ah, yes. He wanted to teach me about nature painting. But then it started raining suddenly."

"It was a little late in the day, so I was just getting back from selling some of his work. I got caught up in it too. Soaked to the bone."

"So were we. We had to pack up in a hurry, the paint hadn't even dried properly, both of canvases getting smeared together with the rain water. I was so upset because I was so proud of it and thought I had ruined it."

"Broer just smiled, I remember." Theo said, "and told me that they were twin paintings now. Sebas even came by to tell us about how in the future, there was this movement in art where you don't really paint forms like normal. Sometimes, people would splash paint onto canvases without rhyme or reason. Abstract painting, he called it. I wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't lived through it myself."

Abby smiled a little.

"Vincent held onto those paintings for a while. I was a little embarrassed on how long he held onto them, messed up as they were."

"From what I remember, Comte had them put up in the parlor after you two left."

"That's even more embarrassing!"

"Even had them framed."

Abby lowered her elbow, setting her brush down.

"Thank you, Theo. For cheering me up. For staying and putting up with me."

"You'd be lonely if I didn't, and Broer hated leaving you alone for long."

"…I miss him. So much."

Theo reached up to her cheek, wiping away the falling tear with his thumb.

"Just remember that you had a hand in making his life as good as it could have been. Now I'm making sure yours is just as good in his honor. So, no more tears. You have a portrait to finish, after all."

Abby took a breath and nodded, looking at Theo, determined.

"R-right."

They both turned back to the canvas, the image reflected in their eyes of a younger Vincent, smiling as both of them had remembered.

[captain-gillian]

seven sentence sunday (CW: suicidal ideation)

thank you for tagging me @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @carlos-tk @sznofthesticks @terramous @lemonlyman-dotcom

@carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @vineofroses

here is exactly seven sentences of the nancy backstory wip

Will she ever be able to close her eyes without seeing him? If she didn’t show up again, would anyone care? How long will it be before they replace Tim? Forget Tim. How will she go home tonight and pretend her entire world hasn’t just shattered? Would the firefighters even notice if she didn’t come back? Would anyone even miss her if she was just gone? 

open tag <3

[munacy]

Bar

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus never punishes Sirius over his misdeeds. Sometimes Sirius wishes he would, wishes Remus would put on his insufferable old Prefect Face and Prefect Voice and say something pretentious and self-righteous, like: “You’ve always had the power to surprise me with just how low you can stoop, Black.”

Sometimes he wishes Remus would snap and get proper angry, snarl something like: “You’ve been drunk every night for weeks over a blood supremacist brother you never even cared about! Stop taking it out on us, we’re not the ones who killed him!”

Sometimes he wishes Remus would hit him.

Remus never says or does any of those things. Remus doesn’t agree with any of the things Fantasy Remus claims in Sirius’ sadomasochistic daydreams. Remus does something much worse. He is kind to him.

He catches a stumbling Sirius as he’s flung out of The Leaky sporting bruised and bloody knuckles. Tom, the bartender, casts an uncharacteristic scowl at them both and shakes his head. Remus gives him an apologetic grimace. Sirius tries to flick them both off, but his fingers are too blurry. Then, the sight of his odd, blurry fingers (they’re long and horrible and white and knobby and Sirius imagines that he doesn’t have skin on them, just gory finger bones protruding straight from his pale hands) and the stinking hot night air catch up to him all at once, and he’s retching violently, and Remus, wonderful, beautiful Moony, is holding his hair back and propping him up. He rubs Sirius’ back as he purges his sins and murmurs soothing nonsense words, and suddenly, Sirius is weeping, and, for once, it’s not over his stupid dead Death Eater brother.

No, he’s weeping because he feels deja vu. He realizes abruptly that this—Remus being perfect and lovely and compassionate, and holding his pathetic drunk form close, as if protecting something precious and fragile in equal measure—has happened many times in recent days, and he feels what is a rare emotion for him: shame. Naturally—fucking perfect, wonderful, sodding Moony, goddamn it—well, Sirius must be cruel to him in response. “Isn’t it a Saturday night?” He slurs crassly. “Haven’t you got somewhere better to be than cleaning up my sick?” He leers at Remus’ impassive face. “Or are you that lonely? This the highlight of your days, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t look angry. He never does. He looks like he hurts for Sirius. Like he’s a mindreader and he knows Sirius is just trying to hurt himself the best way he knows how, and somehow, that part, and not his malicious words, hurt him.

“I’ll always be there to pick you up from the bar, Pads. You’ve never given up on me, even though you could have, and I’ll not give up on you,” he replies quietly to Sirius’ awfulness (shame shame shame). He hesitates. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

He says that, sometimes, when he knows Sirius is blacked out like a shattered lightbulb in a back alley. In the near future, Sirius will start getting better (this too shall pass and this too shall pass and this too). Sirius will start being better, and Remus will mistakenly tell him this again, on a night that Sirius seems further gone than he is. And Sirius will finally, finally remember it in the morning, this important, holy thing (the most wonderful person he’s ever known loves him, and isn’t that just insane?). And that will change everything. Not tonight, though. Sirius won’t remember this time.

What he does remember the next morning is that, this time, Remus grabs him by the hand instead of the elbow (as he’s done countless times before) to Apparate them back to Sirius’ flat. That little detail. In the morning, he remembers that little detail and finds that it’s been the only spot of peace, the only reprieve he’s had in months. Not the copious drink and the unprovoked fistfighting and the drugs of questionable content and the anonymous sex. It’s Remus’ sure hand in his, guiding him home. It’s a light in the dark. It’s everything.

[home-for-wayward-fawns]

༺♥📺 𝒜 𝑀𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇'𝓈 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 🦌♥༻

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 9: 𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈, 𝒫𝑜𝓌𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈

What should've been a simple game of role-play goes terribly wrong when Carla is thrust into a flash back of the past.

TW: Hi everyone, thank you for your lovely comments and kudos! I want to give a HEAVY trigger warning for this chapter. It contains heavy references to mental health problems, substance abuse, and references to a character overdosing.

Carla sat on her armchair in the lounge, sewing circle in her lap as she continued her floral design. Alastor stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder as he peered down at it. Carla had a soft smile plastered on her face as Charlie explained her latest little game to the residents who sat on the floor in a circle. 

It reminded her of little Poppy dragging all her big brothers down to the living room for a tea party. Of course, they’d always indulged her, indulged the little miracle that blessed their lives. 

Charlie started, clapping as she sang her little introduction, and the snake followed suit. Carla hummed to herself contentedly as Alastor tapped his fingers on her skin in a smooth rhythm. 

“This is stupid,” Angel interrupted, rolling two of his eyes. 

Carla looked down at him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the twitch in his hand. She’d seen that before, and it left a sour taste in her mouth. It was the struggle before the storm, the moment just before the walls came crashing down. Angel was after a fix, and this game wasn’t helping. Carla noticed Charlie’s eye twitch, and let out a cough for attention. She felt Alastor’s rhythmic tapping cease and didn’t need to look back to know he was doing that curious head tilt in her direction. 

“You don’t have to play along, sweetheart,” She said gently, hoping her soft voice would coax him away from whatever demons plagued his mind. 

It never did. It never worked. It never worked with Junior either. 

“This–is–not–stupid!” Charlie interrupted, still clapping and Carla had to bite back a sigh. It wasn’t her fault; the poor naive thing just couldn’t see that this was not what Angel needed right now. “It’s just a game! Sir Pentious did it well, so now please try to do the same!” 

“Charlie, that isn’t very kind. Angel, if you don’t like this game, what do you want to play?” Carla asked, keeping her tone soft and light. 

She felt a sharp claw scratch along her collar as Angel got a sly smirk on his face. Husk groaned, apparently aware of something Carla was not. 

“A productive game,” Vaggie interjected, her voice laced with suspicion. 

Why was everyone so harsh on the boy? Husk got to drink himself into oblivion; Pentious got to build his dangerous contraptions; why was Angel looked upon so harshly? 

“We could do some roleplay ,” Angel suggested, his eyebrows moving suggestively, specifically in Husk’s direction. 

Husk rolled his eyes, but Charlie quickly jumped to her feet in excitement, oblivious to the obvious tension in the room. She pulled Vaggie up by her arm, with a surprising amount of strength for such a lanky young girl. 

“Roleplay!” Charlie exclaimed, her entire body already shaking with anticipation, “I’ll go write the scripts!” 

The tall blonde quickly dragged her girlfriend out of the room, and Carla chuckled at her enthusiasm. 

“This oughta be fun,” Angel snickered, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to subside slightly. 

“Thank you, Angel,” Carla said to him earnestly, “It means a lot to her that you’re trying,” 

“Huh? Err, yeah, sure,” he mumbled, looking down at his phone, but the beginning of a blush had spread across his face. 

Small steps, gentle steps; you didn’t change problems like this overnight. She couldn’t save Junior, didn’t see him slipping through the cracks of the family unit. She couldn’t save him in time, couldn’t make him feel seen before it was too late, but she could save Angel. He was a part of this little family they were building, and she’d keep him safe. She’d make sure he felt safe. 

“Pet,” She heard Alastor purr in her ears and she turned her head to look at him. His smile was broad across his face as he spoke— he was beautiful. “I’m afraid I must take my leave to make arrangements for this evening. I’ve instructed Niffty to take care of dinner for the evening so you can focus on dolling yourself up for me tonight,” 

Carla bit down on her lip in concern, that was a big task for one so small. “That’s a big meal for such a little one, are you sure we need to go out for dinner? I don’t mind cooking before we leave.” 

“I assure you I have never given her a task she cannot excel in. She enjoys cooking just as much as you do. You trust me don’t you, doe?” 

She pressed a gentle kiss against his knuckles, and he raised an eyebrow but made no move to take his hand away from her. She felt a shift in the air, the usual soft thrum of static that surrounded them seemed to thicken for a moment before he tilted her head up to steal a soft kiss. She gasped in shock, and he took the opportunity to deepen it. 

“You’re bad.” She whispered against his lips and he chuckled. 

“You’re mine.” He whispered back, before pulling away. 

She watched him as he took his leave, not able to hide the wistful expression on her face. She returned to her sewing circle, and she’d almost feel at peace if she wasn’t blatantly aware of Pentious’ eyes on her. 

“Do you trust him?” He hissed, rolling his tongue on the s sound. 

“We know our roles, and we play them well.” She replied, her tone clipped. 

She had promised Charlie she would try, she would play along. That didn’t mean she owed him any more information than she was willing to give. It was hardly any of his business how she felt about Alastor. Or Kek. 

“Forgive my intrusion, I was under the impression you were wed to another,” 

Her head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes, her smile still firmly glued in place. The snake eyed her nervously, aware that he had just prodded at a particularly sore nerve. It was laughable, wed to another. Last time Carla checked, death do us part was very much still in her vows. She had waited her whole life to move on, how much time did she owe Clarence? How many tears, how much misery? How many dead kids?

“How interesting; I’m sure Alastor would be very interested in finding out you keep tabs on me.” She said evenly, keeping her smile gentle while she pleaded with her heart to calm itself down.

“Don’t Smiles got a problem with your and Vox’s whole,” Angel said, waving his hand in the air, “situationship,” 

“Me and Vox do not have a situationship to discuss. I was never married to Vox ,” She hissed out his name like a curse, a disease. 

“Damn, toots, you really hate him,” 

She narrowed her eyes in Pentious’ direction, the rage bubbling beneath her skin, threatening to spill over. She was so much more than Clarence’s wife and the mother of his children. She had made a life for herself. She had built entire charities designed to help the needy, the desperate. She had created foundations to help men with mental health problems, and help the young with addictions they weren’t able to deal with on their own. The Gill name was so much more than the legacy he’d left them with. She had built something for her family, her children. He might’ve been the worst of her, but he was by no means all of her. 

“I advise you to keep your comments on my love life to yourself in the future,” She said with a tight smile before standing up to dust off her skirt. 

She had just about made it to the door, hand on the knob when she felt words that stabbed into her back like thousands of knives. 

“I mean no offence, Mrs. Gill ; I just did not think you were that kind of woman,” 

She stopped in her tracks, her grip impossibly tight on the handle. They didn’t know her, none of them did. They didn’t know what she’d gone through, what Vox had done to her, to their family, to their children. 

She was not just the woman he left behind; she was the woman who survived him. 

“You have no idea the kind of woman I am.” She bit back before gently closing the door behind her. 

She pressed her back to the door, willing the black hole that had formed in her chest to cease and she began to count to seven, one for each of her beloved kids. 

One for Harry, her perfect son. 

Two for darling Georgie, who would eat her out of house and home. 

Three and Four for Gabriel and Junior, her most cheeky of the boys. 

Five for Mathew who had always tried his best. 

Six for Peter who had been taken from her too soon. 

Seven for Poppy, perfect Poppy, her little miracle.

She was fine. She was safe. She had done it. She had raised them alone, and she had done a damned good job. She had never needed a man; she had never needed him . It wasn’t her fault what happened. It wasn’t her fault. She had spent an entire life alone, and she would not be told by anyone she didn’t deserve to be happy. Alastor was perfect and she wouldn’t be told otherwise. She lifted her necklace, pressing a gentle kiss to the charm. 

Clarence had chosen for death to do them part; she didn’t owe him a damned thing. 

She was going to bake a fucking pie. 

Carla spent hours in the kitchen baking more than she’d ever know what to do with. Pies were simple, a recipe passed down through the generations of her family. You couldn’t get pie wrong, not when you’d made it so many times. She focused on the latticework, a separate intricate design for each one. They didn’t come out perfect—nothing did in Hell—but they sure were pretty. 

“Everyone is in the lounge doing this ‘roleplay’ bullshit,” Husk told her with a grumble. 

Carla pulled her final pie out of the oven, a pretty little spider design on the top. She hoped Angel would like it, that it would at least appease a very different hunger deep within the boy. 

“...You alright, love?” Husk asked, eyeing all the pies that covered the kitchen counters. She might have to ask Alastor if there was somewhere to donate them all. It wouldn’t do good to waste the ones that wouldn’t get eaten. 

“Just a spot of baking,” She said dismissively, untying her apron to hang it on the back of the door. 

Once upon a time, Clarence would’ve finished that sentence. ‘Does wonders for the soul, don’t you know?’

She followed Husk to the lounge, content to leave her pies to cool before she dusted them with sugar later. She sat down to join Charlie and Vaggie on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. She looked up at the scene before her, chewing nervously on her lip. She had a sudden urge to call for Alastor through the necklace. 

This didn’t look good. 

Angel stood in a dark trench coat reading from a terrible script. It was evident that their dear spider was playing the villain to Pentious’ childlike disguise. She felt her stomach drop as the words left the poor boy’s mouth. She clenched her fists in her lap, digging her nails into her palms as she tried to stay present. This was all wrong. This had never been how it went down. It was never a scary man in a dark alleyway; it was always so much closer to home. She could feel herself fading away, disappearing into nightmares that she’d never be free from. That was the true curse of motherhood; you never escaped the guilt of your mistakes. 

She stood crouched by a large bed, damp cloth in her hand as she wiped her son’s sweaty brow. He panted heavily, his entire body shaking, and she cooed at him gently. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t his fault ; he just needed some help. 

“I’m so sorry Mama, so sorry,” he panted, as she gently dabbed the cloth across his face. 

It was hard for Junior, so hard. Clarence had given him everything he had. He got the name, the face, the problems . Carla couldn’t quiet the voices in his head, couldn’t save him from the guilt that plagued his heart. It wasn’t his fault that he’d fallen into the wrong crowd; it wasn’t his fault he just wanted the voices to stop. 

“You’re doing so good, baby boy. Just a little longer. We just need to get it out of your system, and then Harry’s going to take you to a doctor with Grandpa. Won’t that be good?” She said softly, holding back tears. 

“I’m so cold, Mama; I’m freezing to death,” 

“I know baby; I know. Mama’s here; I’ll be here all night.” She promised. 

She knew Harry was outside the door, pacing angrily. He’d promised to let her do this bit; he meant well, but he was so rough, so angry. It wasn’t his fault either; he was just scared. They’d already lost Peter; already lost Mathew. Their numbers seemed to dwindle every year, and she knew he blamed himself. She couldn’t blame him; she blamed herself instead. 

“What about when the voices come back, Mama? I can’t do to my kids what Dad did to us,” He sobbed, and she felt a pang of pain in her chest. 

A dark thought crossed her mind, one she quickly flicked away to focus on her son. 

I hate you, Clarence. I fucking hate you. 

“Mama will be there then too. You just come home to Mama, and I’ll fix you right up. Nothing fairy kisses can’t fix, little champion,” she said quietly. 

“I’m so sorry Mama,” 

She was breathing heavily as she was unceremoniously dropped back into reality. Her hands were bleeding from where her nails had dug too deep into porcelain skin. That wasn’t the last time Carla had to do that with her Junior, not the last time Harry dragged him to her by the scruff of his neck. Harry was always red in the face; rage always swimming in his perfect blue eyes as he dropped Junior at her feet. Venom laced his voice as he spat at Junior that he didn’t deserve to be his brother, didn’t deserve to be her son, but Carla always calmed him down, sending Harry out to get her things she didn’t need just so he’d feel useful. She knew why he was really angry; he couldn’t fix Junior and he couldn’t stand it. 

Junior spent his whole life like that, even when he was married, even when he became a father. Always Harry, always Harry dragging him back to her by the scruff of his neck. He fought so hard, her little soldier, fighting against his need for needles, powders and pills. It was never as simple as just saying no . Carla could feel tears begin to fall down her cheeks, staining her face. He was the same age as Clarence when Harry found him, cold and empty with the final needle in his arm. Her baby boy dragged home one last time, but she couldn’t help him down this time, and Harry held her when she cried. He held her tight and didn’t let go, and she wanted to scream at Charlie . 

She wanted to grab her and shake her because she had no idea . She didn’t know what it was like to hold her grandchildren while they sobbed, to hold her daughter-in-law’s hand because she understood. She understood the pain, the tears; the rage . She wanted her son back; she wanted each and every one of them back. She wanted to laugh, to scream in Vox’s face because he wanted to give her the world, but he couldn’t give her back what he’d already stolen. 

She looked up to see Charlie hugging Pentious, praising him , while Angel stalked away up the stairs looking dejected. She willed herself to be still, to be calm, to be present. 

“You alright?” She heard Husk call out to her, but he sounded a hundred miles away. 

One for Harry, her perfect son. 

Two for darling Georgie, who would eat her out of house and home. 

Three and Four for Gabriel and Junior, her most cheeky of the boys. 

Four for Junior. Four for Junior. Four for Junior. 

“I do not know who you think you are young lady ,” Carla hissed, unable to hide her anger, “but that was vile ,” 

“But…” Charlie tried to say, but Carla interrupted her. 

“No ifs, ands, or buts. You have no idea what it’s like to love an addict, and it shows. Have you ever stayed up multiple days to hold them when they come down, to remind them you’re still here; you’re real? Have you ever held your child as they burn but they swear they’re freezing, and they’re so sorry, and you forgive them, you always forgive them knowing they’re going to do it again, and again, and again? It was never as simple as just saying ‘no’. It isn’t some shady guy in an alley. It’s your best friend, your cousin, someone you trust,” Carla ranted, panting, “My Junior was not a bad boy, and he was not unloved. I gave him enough hugs; I drowned that boy in love.” 

Her entire body was shaking with rage. Junior was good. Junior was her good boy, he’d just had a hard life. Angel was good too. He just needed help .  

“Carla, I didn’t mean…” Charlie began, tears in her eyes, but Vaggie cut her off. 

“Leave her alone; you’re upsetting her!” 

“Perhaps you should’ve thought to suggest a warning for such content then, sweetheart ,” Carla hissed at Vaggie before turning to Charlie, “It doesn’t matter what you meant . It matters what you did. Angel is not bad because he needs help . You never should have considered having him play ‘the crackhead’.” 

She took a deep breath, counting to seven as a cold, suffocating silence washed over them. 

One for Harry, her perfect son. 

Two for darling Georgie, who would eat her out of house and home. 

Three and Four for Gabriel and Junior, her most cheeky of the boys. 

Five for Mathew who had always tried his best. 

Six for Peter who had been taken from her too soon. 

Seven for Poppy, perfect Poppy, her little miracle.

She’d go talk to Angel; she’d keep him here; he wouldn’t go out, and he didn’t need to go looking for that stuff. He had everything he needed right here. 

“Now, I am going to take a pie up to your big brother’s room and see if I can get him to eat something. I advise you to write a very heartfelt apology,” Carla said, a smile back on her face before she left for the kitchen. 

She was barely out of earshot as Charlie whispered to Vaggie. 

“Did she just call Angel my big brother?”

[kjack89]

34 for the spotify wrapped thing!! (whatever ship you want)

34. "no body, no crime" by Taylor Swift (feat. HAIM)

Let's be honest, we all knew this was going to be E/R.

Decided to go a very literal route with this one. Canon Era, on the barricade. CW: referenced canonical character death.

Feuilly sat with his back propped against the barricade, his gun laid across his knee. Courfeyrac paused in his careful scan of the horizon to frown down at him from his vantage point. “Sleep,” he scolded gently. “The People will need you at full strength come the morning.”

Though Feuilly managed a tight smile in response, he knew that no sleep would come, least of all because he knew that not even every man on the barricade being at full strength would be enough come morning.

Still, he knew that his own inability to sleep would inevitably distract Courfeyrac, who would be incapable of stopping himself from japing or trying to keep him amused at the expense of the job he was meant to be doing, and just when Feuilly had resolved to close his eyes and appear to sleep, he heard a curious scraping sound, as if something heavy was being dragged across the stone of the street. 

Most curious of all, the sound did not come from the National Guard, huddled down for the night. Instead, it came from behind the barricade. 

Feuilly looked again at Courfeyrac, who was frowning. “I hear it, too,” Courfeyrac told him, and Feuilly nodded, resolved.

“I shall investigate,” he said. “And report back if needed.”

Courfeyrac jerked a nod, his expression troubled, and Feuilly squared his shoulders before standing, gun in hand as he crept away from the barricade and toward the noise emanating from the darkness. He braced himself against the corner of a building and peered around, squirting against the darkness to try to make out the large, strange shape he could just see.

He raised his gun to aim it at the figure. “Halt,” he commanded, “in the name of the Republic.”

The figure paused but then continued its lumbering movements, and Feuilly scowled, stepping fully around the corner. “I said—” he repeated, breaking off when the figure half-turned to face him and for the first time, he caught sight of his face. “Grantaire?”

It was Grantaire, but Grantaire as Feuilly had never seen him, and not just because he was dragging what appeared to be a body down the road. Grantaire’s expression was haunted, his eyes wide and wild, and only when he stumbled slightly in his step did Feuilly realize that Grantaire was obviously still drunk.

Then Grantaire spoke, and all but confirmed it. “Ah, Feuilly,” Grantaire said, tripping over the familiar syllables in such a way that Feuilly marveled the man was able to stand upright, let alone drag a corpse down the street. “How does your evening fare?”

Feuilly ignored the question, certain that Grantaire would neither remember nor care about his answer. Instead, he frowned down at the body he was dragging, his eyes widening when he recognized it as the murderer Enjolras had shot earlier. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice sharper than intended.

“Corpus delicti,” Grantaire grunted, and Feuilly’s frown deepened.

“You know that I am not trained in the law as some of our brethren, but—”

“If there is no body, then a crime cannot be proven to have been committed,” Grantaire told him, with the kind of clarity of conviction only a drunkard could possess.

If Feuilly was merely confused before, now he was much closer to baffled. “I reject your premise that there was any crime,” he said, his voice low. “It was a just death. The man was a murderer.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And to punish him for his crime, Enjolras must too become a murderer,” he muttered.

Feuilly bristled, his loyalty to Enjolras outweighing whatever pity he had for Grantaire. “Listen here, Wine Cask—” he started, but Grantaire ignored him, still muttering to himself as if Feuilly had not even spoken.

“In war, one might say that all deaths are just deaths, if, at the least, the war itself is just. Jus ad bellum, jus in bello. And perhaps even at the hands of the Republic, following the laws as determined by the People, so too might there be a just death. But an unarmed man, no matter what crimes he has committed – how can we consider that just?”

“Such belated conviction, Feuilly said scornfully. “Revolution has made murderers of us all.” He paused. “Save for you, of course. I suspect the only blood you shall find on your hands at the end of this will be your own.”

Grantaire looked at him, his expression suddenly sober. “For him, I would have,” he uttered gravely, and it took Feuilly a moment to place his meaning.

“Surely you don’t mean—”

Grantaire jerked his shoulders in a shrug without lessening his grip on Le Cabuc’s corpse. “Better by far for this man’s blood to be on my hands than on his.”

Feuilly swallowed against the cold conviction in Grantaire’s tone. “Enjolras would not want that,” he said.

A horrible smile spread across Grantaire’s face. “And since when have I cared what Enjolras would want?” he sneered, though his sneer froze in place as he stared at something over Feuilly’s shoulder.

Even without turning, Feuilly knew who it must be, knew who else would be roused by this conversation, and he acknowledged Enjolras when a nod when he felt the man briefly touch his shoulder. “Return to your rest,” Enjolras ordered quietly, and Feuilly hesitated. “This is a conversation best had with just the two of us.”

Though Feuilly again nodded and stepped away, he found he could not force his feet to return to the barricade. Instead, he ducked around the corner, close enough still to observe as Enjolras approached Grantaire, his back straight and his shoulders set.

“Leave him,” Enjolras said quietly, in a tone that brooked no argument. “It is over.”

For the first time, Grantaire released Le Cabuc, dropping his body and straightening to meet Enjolras’s eye, his horrible smile for before long gone. “You commanded before that I not disgrace the barricade,” he said, his voice a broken whisper that Feuilly had to strain to hear. “Leaving him would.”

Enjolras swallowed. “So you think it a disgrace, then?” he asked. “What I did?” Grantaire did not answer and Enjolras was a silent for a moment before saying, tired more than anything else, “So be it. I have told you before, many times over, I am but human.”

“And never have I doubted it,” Grantaire told him quietly. “But I could not bear if this man’s corpse ended up buried with Jean Prouvaire, or any of our friends who may still fall.”

Enjolras winced at the mention of Prouvaire. “Who told you?” he asked, and Grantaire lifted one shoulder in a sort of half-shrug.

“My slumber was not absolute.”

Something flickered on Enjolras’s face. “Grantaire—”

“Please.” Grantaire’s voice was soft, but determined. “I have failed you so many times, in so many ways. Let me at the least do this, so that when you too are cut down, you might not go to eternity thinking that I did nothing for the Cause.”

There was a brief pause before Enjolras repeated, “For the Cause?”

Another brief pause, then— “For you,” Grantaire whispered.

Enjolras shook his head. “I have asked nothing of you,” he said, his voice low and strangely urgent, as if he sought to convince Grantaire of the same. “Nothing – save that you leave.”

Grantaire bowed his head. “And in that, too, I have failed you.”

“You need not fail in that,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire lifted his head, searching Enjolras’s expression. “If you are taking that body from the barricade, you need not return.”

Grantaire smiled again, but it was a soft sort of smile this time, nothing like the grotesque facsimile he had worn earlier. “You know that I must,” he said gently.

Enjolras did – Feuilly could see his resignation in every line of his body. And still, Enjolras asked, “Why?”

Grantaire shrugged, something almost helpless in the gesture. “For the same reason that I must remove this corpse.”

It was Enjolras’s turn to bow his head. “I have not asked this of you,” he said, his voice low.

Grantaire shrugged once more. “Some things are offered freely.”

“And if I refuse?” Enjolras asked sharply.

Grantaire’s smile widened. “It would hardly be the first time you have refused me.”

Something like a smile tugged at the corner of Enjolras’s lips. “And yet still, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Grantaire said the three words simply, plainly, and Feuilly could not help but feel that they were substitutes for three other words that Grantaire would much rather say. He suspected Enjolras knew it too, and was unsurprised when Enjolras sighed, resigned. “Then I shall wash my hands of it. Do as you must.”

“I shall,” Grantaire said.

He turned to take up his burden once more, to continue his plodding journey into the night, but Enjolras caught his hand. “Grantaire—” Enjolras’s voice trembled, just slightly. “Fail me once more.”

Grantaire’s voice was impossibly gentle when he responded, like the caress of a lover instead of a broken whisper amongst the wreckage of dreams. “I always do.”

He twisted his wrist to raise Enjolras’s hand to his lips, bestowing a fleet kiss against the pale knuckles, the gesture more tender than any Feuilly thought he had witnessed.

Feuilly knew that he could not bear to see anymore, and so finally followed Enjolras’s command, retracing his steps back to the barricade. Courfeyrac tensed when he spotted the movement, relaxing only slightly when he saw it was Feuilly. “Well?” he asked, his call quiet so as to not disturb the rest of the men. “What was it?”

“Nothing,” Feuilly told him, knowing in his heart that he would never speak a word of what he had witnessed, and he settled down again in his spot from before, resting his back against the barricade and closing his eyes before adding, more to himself than to Courfeyrac, “Just someone saying their goodbyes.”

[eggmuffinwaffles]

AAAAAA

Hugo could still place exactly where that stupid blue streak flowed against the rest of his hair. He could still count the freckles that dusted the tip of his nose and the edges of his cheeks. He could just about remember how his lip would curl when he smiled. It was lopsided- the left side of his mouth always pushed up just a little bit more than the right.

He was a shadow, an echo of something he never deserved. He could still feel the rough calluses on his hands lightly scratch across his cheeks. His lips still tingled with the memory.

Or:

The bridge connecting the human kingdom of Ingvarr and the fairy kingdom of Corona has been shattered. After being forced into hiding after the events of last year, everything familiar to Hugo was now gone.

And yet somehow, ghosts from his past still manage to sneak their way back into the fragments of a life he had cobbled together. Who knows how much longer he can hold on.

Chapter 3: Returning

Things don't quite go according to plan

[highcaliberstupidity]

Whumptober Day 8 Outnumbered Rating Mature CW's/Tag's Implied/referenced character death, Rudy escaping during the Shadow betrayal Characters Rodolfo Parra Summary

It was unsettling, reminded him far too much of the cartel doctrines that lured in young men and women every day.

Ask anyone, and they'll always tell you the same thing. If push comes to shove, their always prepared for the worst. 

And for many, that may be true. 

It certainly is for Rodolfo. 

Growing up in Las Almas, knowing what he knows, and doing what he does, has made him a paranoid man by nature. 

The S.A.S operatives had come highly recommended by an old friend of Alejandro's, so extending trust to them had been… tough, but not impossible. At least with Soap, he could see the man's eyes, could see the truth in them. 

With Ghost he didn't have that same security, but Laswell swore by them, and Alejandro swore by Laswell. 

So Rudy gave them the benefit of the doubt. 

Shadow Company, however, did not get the same kindness. They were not friends of Laswell's, they were simply Americans who hadn't liked the way things were run back home, and had decided to rebel and make their own special little unit. 

It was unsettling, reminded him far too much of the cartel doctrines that lured in young men and women every day. 

So he let Alejandro make nice, let him befriend and smile and laugh with Graves and his pack of strays while he watched. He knew this was Ale's way of feeling them out, knew to trust him. 

You didn't become a Coronel for being stupid, after all. 

But in the end, he thinks they both fell for Graves' slippery smile and sugar-coated words. Because even he hadn't expected this. He knew they were hiding something, but was content to let them wrangle their terrorist and leave Las Almas to deal with its own neverending problem. 

He doesn't expect to have their very base ripped out from underneath them the moment Graves has them separated .

But here he is, wrenching a blade free from the Shadow that had tried to put one between his ribs. His movements are sluggish as he rights himself, trembling as adrenaline fights the drugs they must have spiked their food with. 

He doesn't have long, he'll be lucky if he escapes. 

The first bullet rings out, the rifles report cracking in the crisp evening air as shadows pour out of the main compound, launching themselves into the few Vaqueros that had yet to make it to the mess. 

He hears screams and shouts in American for his men to surrender, to drop their weapons, and kneel. 

He digs into the dead Shadows Tac vest as his men answer by opening fire. 

His head bows in a silent prayer of his mother tongue for their sacrifice. 

Three pockets in and he finds two stimulant shots, and without any preamble, jabs one into his denim-clad thigh, clenches his teeth against the burn. His heart rate skyrockets, and for a moment he hazes out, lurching unsteadily before everything comes back in sharp, aggressive focus.

He has to escape, has to get word to anyone. 

He's not stupid enough to think that he can do this on his own. 

He ignores the wet heat of tears on his skin as the gunfire below fades off, as American voices shout orders. 

The radio next to him lights up, someone demanding a sitrep. And Rodolfo runs.

[intricatedemonicrituals]

Canon Destiel Timeline Masterpost

I wrote this all in a fugue state while listening to Green Grow the Lilacs on repeat so forgive any mistakes. @gay-fae ask and ye shall receive

So much has happened in the long and storied history of his fandom so I've decided to try to document it. I've started by looking up every time that canon destiel, destiel event, misha collins, jackles, or some other search terms have spiked on Google and cross referenced them with tumblr or twitter posts from that day. I know a lot of this is Misha stuff, but he does tend to be the one to say things

November 5th, 2020: Season 15, Episode 18 "Despair" airs and Castiel declares his love to Dean. The presidential election, Georgia turning blue, the presumed retirement of Vladamir Putin, Dabi from My Hero Academia, Ouran Host Club season 2, Sherlock season 5, the president of Bolivia being attacked with dynamite, ongoing BLM protests, a twitter artist making racist art of Ted Bundy, Hetalia returning, a dead man being elected Representative for North Dakota, V for Vendetta, scientists discovering a "hell" planet that rains rocks and has lava oceans, and half of Europe being in lockdown all became tumblr news around the same time. Some of these are true, some not.

November 8th, 2020: Misha Collins, in a panel with Richard Speight, states that the confession scene was a "declaration of homosexual love", and that when Castiel goes to the Empty, it is an example of the "Kill your gays" trope.

November 19th, 2020: The finale airs and it is not well loved to say the least. The episode is short, Dean dies by falling on a nail to death fighting vampire clowns, and there are several characters left with dangling unresolved plot threads and arcs, including Castiel. The car is in heaven though. There is very little heard from the cast and crew, if anything.

November 22nd, 2020: Misha Collins, in a livestream, tells a fan that Castiel and Jack are remaking heaven together, Cas has his wings back, and they are rainbow-colored. He had, however, mentioned the rainbow wings before.

November 24th, 2020: The Spanish dub of the confession is released and a "rogue" translator has written "Y yo a ti" or "I love you too" as Dean's response. Destiel goes canon in Spanish. Tumblr stops working as a result.

November 25th, 2020: tumblr user @thebloggerbloggerfun claims Jensen Ackles said "I had a member of the film crew record the confession scene on my phone for me" #unsourced #releasethetapes

November 26th, 2020: Misha doesn't appreciate the rogue translator, but walks that opinion back later the same day

November 27th, 2020: A "leaked" Italian dub of the confession scene shows a mutual confession.

November 28th, 2020: President Obama follows a destiel account on Twitter

November 30th, 2020: The supposed "Italian dub" is revealed as a fake created by user @iotiamo using sound clips from other parts of the Italian dub on show.

December 1st, 2020: Twitter user @mothdean says "misha I know you have a stan acc and spy on us so can we have a hazel update please"

December 3rd, 2020: Misha tweets about Hazel snoring and this is taken as possible confirmation of Misha's secret stan account

December 11th, 2020: A script from Cas's perspective leaks. It says "We see Cass's POV of Dean again - his face drawn, drained of hope. But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester."

December 16th, 2020: Newsweek runs an article about an article that Misha wrote about the Lewinsky affair while interning in the Clinton White House in which Misha comes off as rather thirsty for Bill

December 20th, 2020: All Supernatural related materials disappear off the CW's website due to a copyright dispute with Warner Brothers

December 31st, 2020: Mishapocalypse redux

February 9th, 2021: Spn cast members Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris tweet about a party at the Roadhouse and it grows to become a full Destiel wedding

February 16th, 2021: @steveyockey made a fairly benign post about Jensen Ackles. The notes went wild in a variety of ways and started a rumor that Spn writer Steve Yockey was dead

February 20th, 2021: Steve Yockey is not dead and he should say it

March 3rd, 2021: The German dub drops and it is also romantic in tone

March 6-8th, 2021: A virtual con happens where Jensen discusses Chaos Machine and Jared says he wants to be in their next project. They also show that WAP video. Jensen is giving full mountain man preparing to play Soldier Boy.

March 10th, 2021: The French dub is released. Cas says, "I love you, Dean" and Dean now responds, "Don't do this to me, Castiel"

March 13th, 2021: The company Amazon tweets about Castiel and Misha Collins asks if they ship Deancas or Wincest. Subsequently apologizes.

March 16th, 2021: Misha says he can't speak as Castiel because Warner Brothers" specifically forbade it. #cwsniperconfirmed

March 17th, 2021: Sam and Eileen are getting married! I have no idea how this came about but I'm happy for them

March 23rd, 2021: Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris claim on Twitter that the Roadhouse party was about Valentine's day and not a wedding. Ferris specifically said that she worked on the show and that people tried to make Dean/Cas into "something that it wasn't", She also stated she doesn't "know what queerbaiting is" and that it was due to an "agenda". This led to #deanisbi trending on Twitter and Tumblr.

March 31st, 2021: Some possibly fake leaked scripts come up for sale on eBay. Also, Jensen is Batman.

April 1st, 2021: Mishapocalypse redux

April 6th, 2021: Leaked scripts from the 2 final episodes pop up and have several mentions of Cas in them that were omitted. Dean even thinks about Cas's confession when confronting Chuck.

April 18th, 2021: Scripts from seasons 12 and 13 leak. These include scenes from after Cas's death

May 17th, 2021: Jensen's band Radio Company releases an album including the song Watching Over Me

June ~5th, 2021: Misha says at a convention that Watching Over Me is about Castiel. Jensen neither confirms nor denies this when asked about it

June 11th, 2021: It is announced that Misha is publishing a book of poetry

June 18th, 2021: The Russian dub airs and Dean's line is changed to "Don't you dare, Cas"

June 24-28th, 2021: Jensen and Daneel Ackles reveal that they are making a Supernatural prequel series following John and Mary Winchester (a story that NOBODY was asking for). Jensen will reprise his role as Dean and will narrate. Misha hints that he would like to be involved, as do Ruthie Connell, Samantha Ferris, Matt Cohen, and Julie McNiven (the perils of having a cast of mostly immortal characters). But Jared Padalecki first says that he is happy for the Ackles's, he later said he was "gutted", then responded to Robbie Thompson's tweet calling him a "coward" and saying "what an awful thing you've done". The next day, Jensen and Jared both do damage control and say they'll always be brothers

July 17th, 2021: People are asking if Destiel will be canon in Space Jam, Misha's poetry book's cover is revealed to lukewarm reviews and people are talking about a particular poem about piss, and Perfume Genius releases an article that is a self-insert vore fanfiction about having sex with Jensen Ackles

August 2nd, 2021: Perfume Genius is at it again with "Last Friday, I had my eyes removed by Jared Padalecki". No, I do not know why she is doing this.

August 9th, 2021: Destiel fics hit 100k on Ao3. Misha tweets his support and people remember that he sometimes reads fanfiction and theorize he has an A03 account

September 1st, 2021: Misha makes his first Tiktok. There is a short intro before he calls cut, walks behind a screen, and strips his clothes off

September 3rd, 2021: Jake Abel uses Michael and Adam to help sell his hot sauce brand

September 4th, 2021: Misha confirms that the love between Castiel and Dean was "reciprocated"

September 9th, 2021: A clip of the real Italian dub of the confession scene goes viral as it is revealed that, unlike the Spanish dub, they change the line to "ti voglio bene" or essentially "I love you like family". Misha responds with a video saying "Ciao Italia, ti amo" with the subtitle "Love is love in any language"

September 21st, 2021: Misha drops the fact that one of his poems is from Castiel's perspective.

September 30th, 2021: Jensen will be appearing at a con on the same day as Misha and not with Jared for "professional reasons"

October 4th, 2021: Misha responds to a fan's tweet by saying that Jensen has "crazy eyes and a knife in his pocket"

October 10th, 2021: Daneel posts a picture of Jensen intently reading Misha's poetry book in front of a roaring fire on Instagram. Misha responds that he misses them even more

October 12th, 2021: Jensen is cast in Rust, a (rather ill-fated) western and Misha says "Yippie-ki-yay" and calls him a stud in the comments

October 16th, 2021: Denvercon. Jensen and Jared reunite for the first time since THE INCIDENT

April 24th, 2022: Misha Collins says in terms of being an extrovert, an introvert, or a bisexual, he joked "I'm all three". This led to the internet celebrating Misha's newly revealed bisexuality.

April 25th, 2022: Misha Collins comes out as straight. Oops!

June 19th, 2022: According to Misha, Dean's heaven was supposed to be at the Roadhouse with all his friends and Cas was going to be there with him

November 7th, 2022: Misha calls Elon Musk a snowflake

November 12th, 2022: Tumblr starts planning another Mishapocalypse

January 24th, 2023: Jensen and the cast of the Winchesters throw Dean Winchester a birthday party, including wearing silly little hats

February 26th, 2023: At JIBcon 11, Jensen sings an improvised song about an angel while Misha sits cross-legged on the floor looking up at him

April 1st, 2023: 10 year anniversary of the Mishapocalypse

April 16th, 2023: A year after his bisexual whoopsie daisy, Misha says that Warner Brothers asked him to "let it go" and keep pretending to be bisexual.

August 23, 2023: Rogue Spanish translator is revealed to not have gone rogue at all but instead to have followed the script he was given, confirming the existence of a mutual love confession that was cut at some point.

If you can remember any events and dates that I haven't found, please let me know and I'll add them! I haven't really rounded out 2022 and 2023 yet.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 13th

~*~

1. Any wangxian fanfics with straight wei wuxian having a sexuality crisis over lan wangji?

ao3 has been erroring out for me when I try to get to my bookmarks , maybe because I have so many? but for #1 , there is a tag "straight boy wei ying" /"Wei wuxian in denial about sexuality" that will give great fics. when I can get to my bookmarks I'll add my faves

show me how you do that trick by ilip13 (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern Setting Porn with Feelings, The Porn Is the Plot, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, straight boy wwx, with an aspec twist, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Slow Burn, Except for the sex that part is on fire soooo fast, sexuality realization, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending)

The Cause Of This Fair Gift In Me Is Wanting by Alliandra (E, 47k, WangXian, LQY/QS, Modern AU, High School, College/University, Time Skips, Slow Burn, Pining, LWJ POV, LWJ Fucks, WWX dates, "Straight Boy" WWX, Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Reference, d Suicide, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Overstimulation, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Getting Together, Ableist Language, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Queer Themes)

I search myself (I want you to find me) by ilip13 (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Smut, The Porn Is the Plot, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Self-Discovery, Adolescent Sexuality, Slight Gender Feels, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Voyeurism, (sort of), Exhibitionism, (also sort of), Lingerie, Explicit Het Content)

~*~

2. Hi! Do you have any fic recs for fic where wwx come back as someone else other than mxy? I remember seeing one where he ends up as Qin Su @fysmiin

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX) ofc summons wwx to defend her family's besieged manor.

🔒Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 76k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WRH, WWX/WZL, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury, Somnophilia, Belly Bulge) WIP. wwx wakes up in wlj's body before the sunshot campaign. cw lots of sex with wc.

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao)) qs summoning jyl-centric but includes someone else summoning wwx as well

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. lwj hasn't appeared yet.

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. wangxian starts early.

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm (T, 50k, NHS & WWX, LWJ & NHS, WangXian, Humor, Friendship, Love, Mystery, Canon Divergence, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship) NHS does a modified summoning

Karma's a Bitch (It's Me, I'm The Bitch) by loosingletters (T, 8k, SS & OC, WWX & OC, Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Resurrection, Moling Su Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Body Dysphoria, WWX is NOT in MXY's Body, Unreliable Narrator, Assassination) Su sect oc summons wwx.

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP) seemingly-abandoned WIP. OFC summons wwx.

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD) WIP. qs summons wwx.

sweet hay and the flowers rising by Shializaro (T, 4k, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol, Humor) qs summons wwx.

Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, LWJ/NHS/WWX, canon divergence, different body offering ritual, atypical relationship dynamics, sentient sabers) NHS does a modified summoning (short fic)

❤️ The Book’s Cover by Eudoxia (E, 50k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not in MXY’s body, canon retelling, humor, demisexual LWJ, genderqueer WWX, smut) OFC summons WWX. this is probably my favorite one of all these.

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust (E, 46k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Franken-canon, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death) Qin Su summons WWX.

Chapter 1-23 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (when applicable)) Chapters 1-23 are "What if Qin Su summoned Wei Wuxian?" A prologue is linked in the author's note.

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body / Resurrected by someone other than MXY Comp

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Angst, [Podfic] Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by sisi_rambles)

~*~

3. Hey! I have only once asked for a fic before but this is for a Itmf , can you recommend any dark lwj fic? Not just after wwx’s death but lwj protecting wwx or joining him in demonic cultivation, even better if wwx runs yiling wei sect^-^

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

🔒 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark LWJ, dark LXC, dark gusu lan, temporary character death, not JC friendly, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Revea, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

Corrupted Core by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Sad with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds)

~*~

4. Hello 👋

I'm in the mood for Twitter wangxian fic threads,i don't mind it if it's modern or not, but I don't like bottomji or switch wangxian

You might enjoy our Twitter comp

~*~

5. Hello! Thanks for your work. Are there any Wangxian fics set at the Olympics? @chalionkat (previous ask moved to FF - mod C)

Our Sports AU Compilation has a Olympics au section you can check out 😊

and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern Cultivation, Rivalry, Competition, Competition-Set Fic, Athletes, Multimedia, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Seemingly One-sided But Actually Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Breathplay, Rough Sex, Food Porn, Tanabata, Lily’s back on her Qixi bullshit, Switching, Bottom LWJ) this has cultivation Olympics

🔒 Dance Me to the End by venagrey (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Skating, 2021-2022 Figure Skating Season, No Pandemic, teammates to friends to lovers, Eventual Smut, mixed signals: on ice, Oblivious WWX, Bisexual WWX, mortifying ordeal of being known, slightly nonlinear timeline, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous descriptions of skating, first time nudes, Accidental Phone Sex, WWX is Very Flexible, YOI homage, not actually a crossover, IRL skating homage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a little gnc for added zest, inappropriate use of medals, Rimming, Winter Olympics)

~*~

6. Hi! This is for ITMF where WWX is a king maker/advisor/spy master or something like Foot on the brakes, screaming there's a red light by Lookingkindofdumb or Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

🔒 Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY & JFM), Past Child Neglect) maybe? Wei Ying was a spy during the war.

~*~

7. Hello!!. i need need need to know if theres any more fics like A Street Kid Named Wuxian where wwx isnt adopted by any sect and just grows up on the strrets/ poor or an orphan @yesibest

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Developing Friendships, lots of OCs, miscommunication and misunderstandings (they’re idiots your honor), Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Slow Burn) fits but Wei Ying lived in Yiling until he's around 17 and then gets invited to train with the Lans for a year. It doesn't go into a lot detail about his life on the streets but he is poor throughout his childhood and into his teens.

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) link in #14 Not sure if this fits as while WWX does grow up on the streets without being adopted into a sect, it's down to time travel, with his soul being sent back to his child body, so he has knowledge of the future & cultivation, so he gets to cheat a little & be more than a normal street kid

~*~

8. Hello, I was wondering if you and the lovely community could help me find selkie-style creature fics? In myth, a selkie is a seal creature who can shed its fur and walk on land as a human. Whoever holds the fur has control over the selkie because they cannot transform back without it. So I am looking for similar themes in WangXian fics! I just read Burn It All Down by nekojita which suggested this would happen with Jiang Cheng holding one of Wei Wuxian’s dragon scales, but the wip hasn’t been updated to finish that portion of the story! So I come to you, looking for more “I control you as long as I hold this part of you captive” stories. Thank you for any recs you can suggest! <3

never love an anchor by tardigradeschool (T, 31k, WangXian, Selkies, No Powers, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, PTSD, Presumed Dead, Drowning)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) this might work? It has Dragon!LWJ whose dragon is missing. While no one actually uses it to control him in the story, the possibility that someone could is a major driver of the plot.

Lanterns To Guide You Home by cuttlefeeeeeeeeesh (T, 7k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Mythology, Selkie AU, Fisherman LWJ, Selkie WWX, Sorta Established Relationship, Fluff, Soft (tm)) might like Lanterns to Guide You Home? It's a bit of a twist on the selkie trope, being less about captivity and more about wangxian reuniting/mutually pining years after being married, but I think it would still appeal to a reader who likes selkie stories. And it's a lovely fic!

~*~

9. Hi! For the ITMF, I was wondering if there are any fics where WWX knows a bit more about MXY when he wakes up in his body? By viewing MXYs memories maybe, or something like that? Just, I want him to be able to act like MXY better and understand his situation better. Is there anything like that? Thanks in advance! @hikato-chan

~*~

10. Hi! This is for ITMF. Is there a fic where WWX tells JYL (or someone else really) that he trust LWJ but not his clan/sect? Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

~*~

11. ITMF a fic that takes place during the Cloud Recesses study arc, in the scene where WWX gets LWJ drunk. Something goes different: a kiss? A love confession? A fist fight? @luliaka

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

~*~

12. itmf some concubine wwx, following canon as mich as possible? something along the lines of the concubine mo series by enigmatree

~*~

13. Itmf:

A) some wwx realizing that he's been abused as a child (for example: Madame Yu) and having to accept that actually the adults in his life kind of suck (no Jiang Yanli bashing pls ♡)

B) wwx being raped and his recovery

Thank you 💕

13A)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

🔒 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)

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 9k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn't a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don't look here for bashing) WWX gets frustrated with how unconcerned JFM is regarding the Wens & ends up leaving. Features sect leader JYL

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX realises he's been poorly treated by the Jiangs & defects. However it could be seen as JYL bashing depending on how you define bashing. She does ignore her family's treatment of WWX & later tries to stop his wedding to LWJ, but she's portrayed as meaning well & just wanting to avoid conflict, & believing she is saving him from a forced marriage. Up to you whether that counts as bashing

13B)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY,  implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) focuses more on the immediate aftermath Wei Ying being raped but does touch on the beginnings of his recovery.

feast and famine by luckymarrow (E, 49k, wangxian, rape/non-con, aftermath of gang rape, modern au, trauma, PTSD, medical procedures, rape recovery, non-consensual drug use, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, mind all the tags) Rape/recovery and the ripples across the friend group. JYL is the glue that holds everyone together. It's a gut-wrenching, amazeballs fic.

~*~

14. Hii, I'm itmf some good coming of age fanfics!

🔒 Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 128k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

~*~

15. Hey!!

So i was wondering if there are any fics where wangxian have a cute little couple’s argument..they make up in the end obv, i don’t really prefer heavy angst. Just a normal couple’s argument. @honestlyewww

tipping point by cherrywhiskey (M, 13k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Married Life, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Fights, Arguing, Making Up, Angry Kissing, Making Out, Modern AU, POV Alternating, Fighting)

you became my husband when i first laid my eyes on you by bunnylan (weiyingpretty) (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Era, Fluff, Boyfriends, Cute, Tik Tok Challenge, Husbands, Established Relationship)

~*~

16. IMTF wangxian or any one of the two as (a) lawyers (b) teachers trying to hide their relationship from students (c) scientists (biologist, physicist, etc.) any kind

Thank you <3

16A)

🔒 a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Trans MXY, MXY Deserves Happiness, Best Dads Wangxian, Handwaving The Legal System With The Power of LWJ, A little bit of angst, mostly soft, Happy Ending, Gender Happiness, Let LWJ Wear Skirts Agenda, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Close to the Truth by Winglesss (M, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Romantic Comedy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Scapegoat by Anonymous (E, 216k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Slow Burn, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral jc, Good Sibling JYL, neutral lxc, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Neck Kissing, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream)

16C)

🔒 at first sight of the sun by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Coworkers, Fluff, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort) Lan Wangji is a researcher at a forest preserve in at first sight of the sun

A Cyborg’s Three Laws by @joshua-beeking, FairyGardenCorgis (M, 194k, WangXian, Future, Cyborgs, Science Fiction, Science Boyfriends, Romance, Slow Burn, Medical Procedures, Surgery, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ has RA, Idiot Friends to Idiot Lovers, Medical Assault, Dehumanization, obscene amounts of cuddling, Versatile wangxian)

~*~

17. Hi! I meant to ask this, but I think I haven't yet (it would already be posted otherwise). For the ITMF, are there any fics where WWX, post canon, gets transported timewise into the 13/16 years he was dead? Preferably only for a bit until he figures out how to get back, and while hiding his identity. Thanks for the help! @hikato-chan

Less Than Two Years by wenqing (maniafic) (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, but also canon divergent, in an alternate universe though, Minor Angst, mostly wwx confusing the kids)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Break it first

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 2

Prompt: Came back wrong

Rated: M

CW: Mind control/brainwashing; Possessive behavior; Referenced character death; Aftermath of trauma; Aftermath of injury; Kidnapping

Tags: Kas!Eddie Munson; Dark Eddie Munson

Notes: So, I already had a fill for this prompt, but then @house-of-the-moving-image showed me this stunning piece of art and my brain broke like Steve's. We both have a bunch of other fills coming up for this challenge, quite a few of them collabs, and I'm so, so stoked to share!!! ❤️

He still remembers how fragile Steve looked. 

They were in the boat house, Steve and Eddie. The others had gone out for supplies, but Steve had insisted on hanging back. Eddie hadn’t protested, even though the thought made his heart rabbit. 

The second they were alone, Steve let himself slide down the wall and curled into a ball on the floor, face hidden between hunched knees, shaking hands clawing at his own temples. 

“Hey, man!” Eddie jumped in alarm. “You okay?” 

Steve took a while to reply. 

“Fine,” he claimed, but his smile was a tense thing in a too-pale face. “Just headaches. Been getting them a lot. Robin thinks it's 'cause I got knocked around a few times too many." 

Eddie quirked an eyebrow, pulled a strand of hair in front of his face. "That … happen often in your line of business?" 

And Steve told him. 

About fighting monsters with nothing but a nail bat. About Billy Hargrove. About Russian torture chambers and the headaches and the nightmares and the ringing in his right ear that never really went away. He looked so young, so beautiful, so broken. Eddie wanted to scoop him up and put him back together and hold him close so that nothing would ever hurt him again. 

But he didn't. 

Instead, he watched. 

Watched how Steve squared his shoulders and put on a brave face for the kids. Watched as Steve threw himself to the front lines so that others wouldn’t have to. Watched as Steve got choked and torn apart, that golden skin painted in new scars, and told everyone not to worry, he was fine.

Eddie watched and Eddie didn't do a thing. 

Because Eddie was weak. 

Eddie was a coward.

It's a good thing he's dead. 

*

Steve is still the one to throw himself into danger first. That's good. It makes it easy to catch him alone. 

"You still have the scar on your neck …" 

A flick of his wrist and the bats scatter into the clouds. Steve curses, scrambles to his knees, gropes for his fallen weapon- and freezes as he cradles his face in both hands, tilting his head up. 

"... Eddie?" 

"Not quite," he hums, sharp claws carding through soft hair. "I have his body and his memories, that's all. The name's Kas. I've been dying to meet you, sweet thing." 

Those caramel eyes go wide. Steve tenses under his hands, tries to scramble away. That's okay, to be expected. He tightens his grip. Steve gasps as the vines on the ground wrap around his wrists and ankles. 

"What are you-?" 

"Sssh…" he brings their foreheads together, softly, slowly. Lets his mind wiggle inside the boy's, just a sliver at first, so he won't notice. Finds a crack, fine as a hairline, slips inside. Waits. "He was so in love with you, y'know that? It ate him alive, watching you sacrifice yourself over and over again. Seeing you suffer. Being unable to help, being unable to fix it." 

Steve's mind flutters like a frightened bird as he encases it with his, gently, carefully. His arms twitch in their restraints, trying to break free.

He smiles. Always the fighter, his sweet boy.

"Dont worry," he coos. “I’ve got it all figured out now sweetheart. I’ll fix everything, promise." 

"Eddie, wait-" Steve's mind flails. Realizes it's trapped, panicks, tries to break free- 

And he pounces. 

Steve struggles, briefly, but he doesn’t stand the ghost of a chance. He's human, and humans are weak. All it takes is a little pressure, and the tiny crack opens wide, welcoming him in. 

Steve screams.

"I know, sweet thing, I know," he coos, curls himself around the boy's spasming body as he digs in deeper. "It'll only hurt for a moment. You'll feel so much better after."

He sees them now, the scars on that beautiful mind, the traces left by years and years of hurt. Sees how to fix them, sees what Eddie could never have seen. What Eddie was too soft, too cowardly to understand.

Sometimes, to fix something, you need to break it first. 

And he does.

Tears at the cracks of that mind until it comes apart at the seams, shatters the fragments into so many tiny shards, grinds what is left into fine, fine dust. Steve screams and sobs and begs him to stop until his voice breaks. By the time the dust is ready to be molded back into shape, he is silent, bar for the occasional whimper.

He tells the vines to release their hold, cradles the limp body against his chest. He hums softly and kisses the tears from under the boy's unblinking eyes while he completes his work. He takes his time. This needs to be perfect. 

"You with me, darling?" 

Steve hums against the crook of his neck, so softly he nearly misses it. 

When he looks down, those pretty eyes are blinking up at him, wide and wondrous like those of a newborn. 

He chuckles. It's true in a way. 

"Feeling all better?" he asks, claws softly tracing the shell of his boy's right ear. "Ringing should be gone?" 

Steve doesn’t reply, just slips his eyes shut and nuzzles closer, every movement slow and sluggish. 

He coos.

"Aw, sweetheart. You must be exhausted, that was a lot to take." He gently scratches at Steve's scalp, revels in the little sigh it gets him. "Don't worry. From now on, nothing's gonna hurt you ever again. I'll make sure of it." 

Steve stirs a little at the soft press of lips against his forehead. His lids flutter, but they don’t open.

"That's it, honey, you rest. Let's take you home now." 

By the time he has adjusted Steve's weight so that he can stand and start walking, his boy is fast asleep. 

All of my holiday drabbles

[edupunkn00b]

Final three chapters are coming this week!!

French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution, Ch. 2: Sir Henri Juriste

Prev - Sir Henri Juriste - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] Rated: T - WC: 2071 - CW: mild swearing

4 June 1789

Prince Roman slapped away the hand of the fourth courtier who attempted to straighten his brilliant red sash. "It's fine , leave it!" he snapped. Immediately, he lowered his head, eyes closed. "I apologize," his voice had softened with a resigned sigh. "I did not intend to lose my temper. I… I wish to be left to my own preparations, please."

The courtier’s eyes darted toward Remus and he nodded then waved gently to dismiss them all. The younger prince’s behavior was unusual, the shock painted on the dresser’s face said he'd clearly expected more trouble from Remus than from the younger—and more proper—brother.

Seemingly mindless of his silk and velvet overcoat, Remus draped himself over Roman's dressing table. "Something troubling you, little brother?"

Scowling, Roman crossed his arms and glared at him as he delicately perched on a stool. "We are in our majority. They needn't continue to treat us like children who cannot even dress themselves."

Remus blinked placidly at his brother, then looked down to fiddle with the dozens of tiny buttons that lined his fitted waistcoat. "I'm surprised, Ro… Aren't you the one always impressing upon me the importance of appearances when presenting at court?" He smirked, re-buttoning the top three buttons of his waistcoat and intentionally skipping one, leaving the top askew and a small but glaring ripple at his sternum.

Almost automatically, Roman reached to correct the error and Remus laughed. Roman's scowl deepened. "Fine, you've made your point." 

After allowing his brother to fix his buttons, he sat up straight and clapped his shoulder. "But that's not it, brother dear, is it?" They each chuckled at the old false term of endearment they would use when pretending not to fight in front of their father or the rest of the court. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

Roman stood facing the large, four paneled mirror next to his table. An extravagance like this was traditionally reserved for the first born, but Remus would barely look at the thing and instead would permit the dressers to ensure he was properly attired and then never gave his appearance another thought. Roman, however, would check and recheck his clothing, his wig, his face, always seeking to maintain perfection.

He frowned at his reflection. "Everything's about to change," he finally whispered, pressing his bright gold and red sash flat against his chest. Scoffing, he turned to face his brother. "Once we step through those doors, it will be official. You are the crown prince and I'm… I'm the next king's younger brother. Father used to tell me it didn't matter who was eldest by minutes. He never made me feel inferior to you in any way.” He smiled at Remus' frown. "And neither have you."

Roman let out a low sigh. "But out there… Now… now it's going to matter." He looked toward the hall and the gilded double doors that would ultimately lead them to their new ballroom. "Everyone I used to consider a friend is now…" He peered up at his brother. "Now all they'll want is to curry favor with the next King."

"Ro, if they're like that, then to hell with them." Roman's eyes widened at his brother's language and he blushed under his face powder. “Besides, Father’s not dead yet,” he smirked at Roman’s sharp glare. “We’re all thinking it.”

“I know… and I feel loathsome even thinking this way, but… You know it’s true.”

Remus frowned, tilting his head back against the mirror in such a way he'd make the wigmaker cry if she saw him. He straightened and met his brother's eyes. "Let's show them, then." He grinned wickedly and pulled off his green sash. Then he took off his heavy signet ring and handed both to Roman. "I have an idea."

~~~

As the brothers waited for the court trumpets and the opening of the doors to announce their arrival, Remus assured Roman that his clothes draped perfectly over his body, triple checking his seams were straight, his wig perfectly balanced. With more patience than the rest of the court had come to expect from the typically more volatile brother, Remus permitted Roman to do the same, smoothing down his sash and even darkening the stain on his lips and cheeks. “You never put on enough rouge,” he admonished under his breath as Remus laughed.

In honor of the occasion, they’d added extra green and red accents to each of their ordinary court ball attire, matching the tiles and bunting in the ballroom. “Good luck, Dauphin,” Remus murmured near Roman’s ear as the fanfare began and the guards moved to the doors.

“Likewise, your Royal Highness,” Roman replied with an indulgent tilt of his head. “Just don’t fidget.” Remus laughed just as the doors opened, then quickly stifled his outburst and shook himself with a little twitch. He looked out at the guests as they stood squinting at him and his brother, the lights behind them making it impossible for the gathered throng to see their features, while they could see everyone clearly. Madam Ivre had already drunk too much and was swaying slightly, completely out of rhythm with the music. Vicomte Lannes had apparently been mid-rant, one hand raised in the air, face fully flushed beneath his powder and rouge.

Near the staircase was the usual collection of courtesans and palace scandalmongers and Remus’ eyes nearly darted away. Until he saw him.

He stood in the center of the staircase, one foot still on the final step. Unlike most guests, he appeared unfazed by their steepness or the shorter height of each step. Remus smirked. That had been his idea for preventing their guests from becoming overly comfortable in the princes’ space. Instead, the man stood with shoulders back, chin up, and an expression on his face that suggested the princes were lucky he had deigned to attend.

The man wore gold-threaded black breeches and a matching cloak over creamy, butter yellow tights. The silk shoes were last year’s style but the smooth material glimmered  from across the dance floor. Scandalously, he even sported a bit of skin peeking out from the ruffles in his shirt, a subversion of the more constrained style usually favored at court.

His face was done up perfectly, with none of the cakiness so often seen in guests looking to impress and his eyebrows were left a rich, warm brown. Remus’ hands jerked with the sudden impulse to rush over and rip off his wig just to see and feel the locks hidden underneath. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the man’s eyes were trained in his direction, only relaxing when he reminded himself that everyone was looking in their direction.

Roman shifted slightly next to him and they called out together, “Isn’t this meant to be a celebration?” The court musicians began the twins' latest composition and Remus smiled. With a gentleman such as that at court, it was indeed a celebration. He had to meet him. Remus glanced at his brother, whose attention had already been stolen by the Vicomte du some shit, so Remus slipped through the crowd, smiling politely at the various guests’ greetings and, more than once, gently pairing more exuberant attendees together with a grin and a wink.

As he approached the mysterious guest—how did he not know who this was?—uncommon nerves twisted his gut. Of course Roman was the more sociable of the two at these sorts of events, managing to greet everyone and to come away with most of their names, connections that he added to the little red book he wore on a chain under his blouse. But Remus wasn’t completely useless at parties, and usually managed to meet and, again, more than once, enjoy the company of a few of the least sycophantic guests.

This man, though. No, Remus was certain he would have remembered seeing this man before. He approached and stood next to him, silently surveying the rest of the guests with him for a moment. Remus watched him out of the corner of his eye, his smile growing when the only outward sign of nerves he could spot was a tiny flush near the edge of his collar before his makeup began, and one short tug at each glove.

“Your Royal Highness,” he murmured, bowing slowly at the waist. Remus tilted his head in acknowledgement and pretended to return his attention to the rest of the dance floor. He couldn’t resist leaving the man to stew a bit before he asked him a question, implicitly granting him permission to speak further. Standing so close, Remus spotted his jaw tighten in irritation for a microsecond. He’s got a fire in him. I like it. There would be little bowing and scraping from this one.

Remus waited long enough that his own hands started to sweat. “I don’t recall ever seeing you at court before.” 

The man raised an eyebrow—one lovely, perfectly curved eyebrow—and smiled. “No, Your Royal Highness, you wouldn’t’ve. I’ve been away in the colonies. I returned last month.”

Accepting a drink from one of the server’s trays—a cute little thing with baby blue eyes and an awestruck face—Remus frowned. “Dreadful business in Pondichérry.”

The man wasn’t quite able to keep the surprise from his voice. “You are aware of the latest uprising?” He nodded to the server as he took a glass. “I would imagine affairs of state at that level were beneath the prince.”

Remus chuckled low in his throat, a sound of genuine pleasure. “Was that sarcasm?” He stepped closer, unwilling to hide his smile. “I could have your head for that.”

The man took a slow sip of his drink and Remus caught a small tremor in the man’s hand. “Yes, you could.” When he finally spoke again, his voice was steady. “But you won't.”

Head thrown back in laughter, Remus nodded. “You’re quite right about that.” He eyed the man, then finished his drink. Another server was by his side with a tray to take his empty glass before he'd swallowed. “You were there, saw it all with your own eyes,” Remus lowered his voice and spoke close to the man’s ear. “Do you think it hypocritical of the King to so ruthlessly crush a revolution clearly inspired by the American revolt he famously supported?” He enjoyed the momentary tremor in the man’s lips, their perfect rouge only accentuated by the little twitch that soon curled into a small smile.

“That's hardly court orthodoxy, I’m sure,” he replied, eyes wide beneath raised eyebrows. But he wasn't looking around them as though watchful for eavesdroppers. Instead, he openly appraised Remus’ face and the prince felt his own cheeks warm under the attention.

Minister Breteuil would certainly lecture him for hours if he’d heard what he'd said. It was hardly the court orthodoxy, and for anyone other than the Dauphin, the Crown Prince, it flirted with treason, and he could imagine the displeased scowls of the King's advisors—and half the court. But this fine gentleman… Remus’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile. This gentleman seemed almost pleased by the controversy.

“I do not believe you’ve introduced yourself yet,” Remus prompted, silently laughing at the aggrieved expression his lack of manners would have elicited from his brother had he heard.

To his credit, the man didn’t actually choke on his drink, but the tiny line of natural skin near his collar turned bright pink. None of it showed on the rest of his face, though. His makeup was heavier than it looked from a distance, and had been skillfully applied. Remus ran a hand over the red silk of his borrowed sash and suddenly worried whether his own makeup was still even.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness," the man spoke, his voice deep and smooth and showing no sign of the fading blush at the edge of his collar. "I am Sir Henri Juriste. He suddenly bowed deeply, as though remembering something. “It is an honor to meet you, Prince Roman.” His eyes lingered on Remus’ for a breath longer than court etiquette would deem proper.

Remus inclined his head with a smile as a new piece began. “It is a prince’s prerogative to dance with whomever he pleases.” He offered his hand, eyebrow raised. “And it would please me to dance with you, Sir Henri.”

Colorized versions of a public domain painting, Louis, Dauphin of France  by Maurice Quentin de La Tour, 1745, depicting the Crown Prince Remus Capetian (in green) and his younger twin brother, Prince Roman Capetian (in red).

[steviewashere]

The Belt Prong

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Past Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Depression (Vague Though) Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slight Steve Harrington Character Study, Heavy Metaphors, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson, Self-Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Vaguely Depressed Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Realizes He Matters, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Good Person Steve Harrington, Everybody Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug (And Gets One), Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Happy Ending I honestly don't know where this came from. But it felt important, so I wrote it.

🫂—————🫂 There’s a piece of Steve’s belt buckle that’s missing.

It broke off when he went to thread it through one of the holes, after he had cinched the leather tight. He had struggled for a couple minutes already to get that little piece through. And it frustrated him, sure. Frustrated him beyond belief that the one thing he needed was now missing. That it fell into the carpet, that it could’ve slid underneath his bed, that it could’ve slipped away from him to somewhere it’ll never return from.

Yet, somewhere in his frustration, the emotion morphed. Went away from the ire and the red and the burning. Turning southward, mouth set, marveling. It took just the one piece to fling away from him—and now he’s really noticing the way that he can’t get his pants to stay on. They keep slipping down his hips, revealing a little slip of his underwear, he has to keep tugging on the belt loops, and the belt won’t close. Just one thing. One thing and now everything’s amuck.

He doesn’t have a shirt on quite yet. Still standing in front of his bedroom mirror. Face pointed towards his hips, to his groin, to the waistband of his jeans. That leather belt gaping open and loose in its confines. Never to close again.

There are pink swatches of skin in the corners of his vision. And so he looks, eyes drawn to them already. Big, previously puckered, softened scarring. Shiny and pink and healed. He steps so that he can view his profile, noting the marring on his back; on the b-sides of his biceps. White lines on his knuckles, in his hairline, at the edge of his bottom lip. If he were to tug his pants down in this moment, there’d be more scarring there, too. Not from the Upside Down, but something just as heavy and drastic and dangerous. From a time before; lonely and young and confused; lonely and young and craving; lonely and young and…tired.

His fingers absentmindedly trace the outlines of the swatches on his stomach. Where it tickles. And it doesn’t hurt. Where nothing hurts and life is finally just…just.

At one point, he had considered.

Considered death, to put it bluntly. All the harm. All the overpasses and bridges and cliff edges. Thought of car crashes or drownings or his house burning down—the accidental ones. Of getting knocked a little too loose. Jumping into a line of action too overzealously. And he’s done that last one, knows he has; screaming at armed guards, nail bat twirling in hand, molotov cocktails, and strangulation.

A thousand possibilities, yet he’s never considered the thought of making it out alive.

With scars to show survival.

The hickeys on his neck to show the warmth he had been chasing.

And his eyes no longer wet or dim or petrified. Just two hazel eyes set in a face, awe in the irises, love in the pupils. Ones that dilate on their own accord, not from injuries. Eyes that see the world through eyeglass lenses, eyes that see the setting sun and the blue of dawn, eyes that see a handsome face laying next to him in bed; eyes that mourn, eyes that laugh, eyes that love.

He looks over his shoulder in the mirror to see Eddie in the doorway. To see him leaning into the doorjamb, arms crossed lax over his chest, a calm giddiness that’s resided and rooted.

“You know I love to look at you, baby, but we gotta get going. Don’t wanna miss that movie—though you gotta wear a shirt to get in,” Eddie lightly teases.

Steve’s fingers tense and flatten over the left bite mark scar. There are matching ones on Eddie’s torso. A million little ones littered all over him, ones that Steve applied pressure to and tourniquet with this same belt—a belt that won’t do that again because it’s missing that one little piece. He blows out a wet breath, something that could’ve been a chuckle if he weren’t so outside and so inside his own head—a simultaneous.

“Um,” he hums, voice all raspy and snotty. “I—I can’t close my belt.”

Eddie snorts, unbeknownst to what’s happening. “Don’t you have another one ‘round here?”

He shakes his head. “No,” Steve murmurs, “just the one.” His fingers now graze the cold, gold buckle. A buckle without a tongue, no way to speak, no way to chew. “Tried to close it and broke that little thin piece off. Guess I threaded it too hard?”

“Huh,” Eddie mutters, “could just do sweatpants. Or basketball shorts or…Or a”—his voice trails off. Mouth closing with a soft click. His eyes are bouncing, now, around Steve’s face in the mirror. “What’s wrong,” he asks, “is that a special belt or something?”

Something, he repeats inwardly. Something indeed.

“No…no I just—One small piece broke off and now the belt’s never going to close again,” he chokes out. Steve clears his throat, shuffles side to side, eyes darting over his scars. Dropping down to his thigh, too.

There were a lot of times where he felt he wasn’t needed. Wasn’t even wanted.

Times that he could get the hell out of dodge any moment and nobody would realize the absence he left. He’d be able to disappear without a trace, no friends to his left, no words to his name, no prospects for his future. At any point, he could’ve jumped into the driver’s side of his car.

Could’ve ran away from home—all the times when his parents were disappointed in him, where he embarrassed himself, those days and nights when standing up to his dad was the worst decision he could make; when he just made his parents’ life much, much worse. Could’ve stayed back with Tommy and Carol, never apologizing to anybody, saving face to protect a name. Could’ve drove into the sun and left Nancy and Jonathan to defend themselves against that demogorgon. Let Nancy drink herself to near death. Told Dustin ‘no.’ Kept those kids under Joyce and Hopper and Nancy’s watchful eyes. Turned Robin away. Never went after Eddie.

And yet…

Yet most of them are there because of his actions alone.

Had he not held that baseball bat, would Nancy and Jonathan have faced death? If he didn’t go with Dustin, would that twerp be left in his own mess, also possibly dead? And what about Lucas against Billy? The kids against the demodogs? He and Robin would’ve never become best friends; Robin would’ve never talked about her secret, never would’ve had a wingman, wouldn’t be dating Vickie right now. Eddie…Eddie wouldn’t even be looking at him.

Would’ve never resuscitated Eddie’s heart. Would’ve never helped apply pressure to his wounds. Or carry him out. Carry him to the hospital. Make a scene so he was taken care of. Got him cleared.

Would’ve never loved him.

And he wouldn’t be loved in return. Not the way he is. Deeply and unheard of.

Maybe his sacrifices were a lot stupid most of the time. Maybe they did initially come from a deep-seated want to just get away. Maybe he wasn’t just being protective, but also rather suicidal—though he doesn’t like to think like that, even if it’s the truth.

In the end, he did it anyway. And most of these people he’s met, they’re still in his life. Thanks in part to him, right? What would it have been otherwise? How much blood would’ve been spilled?

“Steve?”

Eddie’s beside him now. Hand on his right shoulder. Turning him away from the mirror so his concerned eyes can meet Steve’s crying ones. His thumb is pressing into the edge of Steve’s collarbone. And his eyebrows are furrowed. And his frown is lopsided from the scarring on his jaw. But he’s beautiful and he’s alive…god, he’s alive.

“I’m the piece,” Steve gets out, “the piece…the…that’s me.”

“I don’t—Sweetheart, I don’t think I under”—

“If I didn’t—If you”—he hiccups and gasps and sobs something on the edge of his next exhale. Steve brings both his hands up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheeks gently, nails tracing where a dimple would indent, the silver edges of that scar. His jeans are slowly cascading down his legs, falling away too loose because his fucking belt is broken. “Had I not been there, you would’ve…would’ve died,” he breathes. He chuckles—a sound born from bewilderment. His fingers tighten, squishing Eddie’s very malleable, very warm, very in tact skin. “I was there. I was there to help save you.”

Concern and confusion is what Eddie shines with. It makes Steve laugh a little harder. At least it isn’t blankness. At least those eyes aren’t far away. “You were,” he says slowly, “what’s…where are you going with this?”

Steve bites his bottom lip and inhales, chest burbling and rasping, throat stinging and aching, eyebrows cinched. “I’ve been here from the beginning of that bullshit,” he rambles, “and…and because I was there, people didn’t die. Most people didn’t die. It wasn’t just me, I know that, but in part because of me. Had I just run away…had I gave up…had I—If I died! Imagine if I died? Where the hell would Dustin have gone? Who would be Robin’s best friend?

“Fuck…fuck. You’d be dead! I had to be there! What the fuck…I had to be there!” He pats his palms down Eddie’s face, down the sides of his neck. A pulse red hot and thrumming kisses his skin. A pulse he kept. A pulse he dreams about. “Just me. Just…just little me in the thick, bigness of it all. To think…to think.”

Eddie’s still confused. “To think?”

“To think that I actually matter,” Steve says in awe. “To think that I thought that I never mattered. That I was never needed. But now…now my belt won’t close because I lost one piece of it. Just one piece! Isn’t that fucking crazy?”

Eyebrows jump comically into Eddie’s hairline. His eyes are sweeping back and forth and back and forth. There’s horror there. Apprehension. Fear. Concern. “Of course you matter,” he softly exclaims, “Steve, you matter a whole fucking lot!”

“I know!” He responds at the same volume. Takes a deep breath, swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse points. Exhales, “I know.” Steve sniffles back the last of his tears, the last of the snot burbled deep within him. “Jesus, I matter. I’m needed? What the hell.”

“Baby,” Eddie whispers, “you are always needed. No matter what.”

He swallows, eyes bouncing up from where they’ve drifted to Eddie’s collarbone. To his eyes. Those still concerned eyes. “Even if I’m an asshole sometimes?”

“Mhm.”

“When I…I feel like I can’t get out of bed?”

“Yup.”

He swallows again, this time around a lot of somethings, a lot of realizations too cosmically big for a mundane Wednesday afternoon. “Even as I am?”

“As you are,” Eddie breathes, “all of you. No matter what.” His hands land on Steve’s forearms, heavy and sure and squeezing. Comforting and warm. “You matter to a lot of people. And you are needed. And you are wanted. I want you, you understand that? People want you around, even when they don’t need a single damn thing from you.

“Even if you don’t function the way you normally do. Even if you can’t contain yourself. Even if you…you feel like you aren’t you. You will always matter. 

“We want you, Steve.

“We love you, Steve. We love you a lot.”

He proceeds that with silence. And gentle bewilderment. Fresh, crackling awe.

There is a pulse under his hands. And there is warmth in a body. There are pants ready to puddle to the floor. Here he is, here Eddie is—here the whole world is. And even if he’s one of billions, he still aided, he still put himself where he felt he could be. Where he ended up needed. Where he is now wanted.

Who would’a thought? Who would’a thought…

Steve presses himself closer into Eddie’s space. Hands gliding around his torso. Squeezing himself in tight, encompassing Eddie in all his warmth, and being embraced right back. He nestles his head on Eddie’s left shoulder, pulse loud in his ear. Tears beading in the corners of his eyes, to which he closes them. And he sinks into it.

To think it was a prong.

Just a silly little prong.

He’s finally got what he wants: a simple life—a boring, mundane life—with love, with care; to matter.

🫂—————🫂

[gleamingtempest]

DRDT Chapter 2 - Murder Theory Crafting

👋Hello. I would like to share my perspective(s) on the murder of chapter 2.

Spoilers Below. CWs below.

CW: Suicide, Hanging, Murder, Death

Here are some basic statements about the case.

The victim is Arei Nageishi.

Arei died in the playground.

Arei died during the morning after 7:30 AM and before 8:00 PM.

Arei died by having her neck snapped.

All theories here will be operating under the assumption that all of these statements are facts. It's helpful to understand that this post will be trying to most closely align itself with what has been established so far, and will not challenging commonly held beliefs about the case. As such, gently, I request that no discourse be held over the validity of these statements on this post; or more specifically, that you express disagreements with grace & without being confrontational. Thank you. ^^

Now, let's move forward: Who? Who has the capability of doing this. Some characters have alibis which make it impossible for them to have committed the murder in the morning, so let's assert who these characters are.

(Teruko will be discounted from all lists, implicitly.)

J

David

Veronika

Hu

Nico

This means that:

Charles

Eden

Ace

Rose

Arturo

Levi

Whit

Could have murdered Arei. Problematically, this is 7 people. How do we distinguish which of these 7 are the murderer?

Let's return to the crime scene. On the scene of the crime, there's fish. These fish came from the relaxation room. Knowing this, someone had to take them. We know that the fish were last seen on Day 3 by Nico, after they fed the fish, after they ate dinner. This does not give an explicit timeframe, however it does reveal that, because the Relaxation Room closes at 10 PM, and doesn't open again until 8 PM, the killer had to have taken the fish after Nico last saw them.

Because we do not have an exact time for the last time Nico saw the fish, we cannot assert that this is true, but - if this was some time around 7:30, we know who could not have taken the fish. That being, anyone who had an alibi during night time. This brings our list down even further.

These people could not have taken the fish:

Charles

Eden

Hu

Veronika

J

Arturo

Whit

Those who could have are:

Arei

Nico

Ace

Rose

Levi

David

Cross referencing this with the previous list of alibis, that makes those who have no alibi at all:

Ace

Rose

Levi

Here's a graphic:

Let's Recap:

Teruko, J, Hu and Veronika could not have collected the fish or committed the murder.

Eden, Whit, Charles and Arturo could not have collected the fish.

David and Nico could not have committed the murder.

Rose, Ace & Levi could have both collected the fish and committed the murder.

The question we have now is: Does the murderer need to have collected the fish?

The answer is no. There can be an accomplice (knowing or unknowing) who collected the fish. In the scenario that the accomplice is knowing, they need to be willing to die for the culprit. In the scenario that the accomplice is unknowing, they did not choose to pursue the fact that somebody in the group asked them to collect the fish in spite of this being related to the crime. Also, assuming that the murderer did not collect the fish, those who do not have morning alibis need to be murderer. This means we are back to suspecting 7 people, and that cross referencing the alibis does not help.

Who can be an accomplice:

Nico

Arei

Ace

Rose

Levi

David

All combinations of accomplices & murderers are as follows:

Eden-Nico

Eden-Arei

Eden-Ace

Eden-Rose

Eden-Levi

Eden-David

Whit-Nico

Whit-Arei

Whit-Ace

Whit-Rose

Whit-Levi

Whit-David

Charles-Nico

Charles-Arei

Charles-Ace

Charles-Rose

Charles-Levi

Charles-David

Arturo-Nico

Arturo-Arei

Arturo-Ace

Arturo-Rose

Arturo-Levi

Arturo-David

Rose-Nico

Rose-Arei

Rose-Ace

Rose-Levi

Rose-David

Ace-Nico

Ace-Arei

Ace-Levi

Ace-David

Levi-Nico

Levi-Arei

Levi-David

This is a total of 29 combinations of accomplice-murderer routes. Let's remove ones in bad relations or with no relations for the sake of simplicity:

Eden-Arei

Eden-Levi

Now we're left with 2 combinations. Hooray. 🎉

These combinations conclude that Eden is the murderer. This means that Eden has to have asked Levi or Arei to collect the fish, either directly with the known intent that she was going to kill or indirectly, without any given intent at all. Regarding the former scenario, Arei can not have been knowingly an accomplice because her wrists were bound. Let's disregard that scenario. In this case, we've reached the first three possible theories regarding this case:

Theory One 1 I

Eden Tobisa murdered Arei Nageishi. Levi Fontana willingly chose to aid her in this process by collecting the fish for her. Levi Fontana is willing to die for Eden Tobisa.

Theory Two 2 II

Eden Tobisa murdered Arei Nageishi. Levi Fontana chose to aid her in this process by collecting the fish for her, without knowing the intent. Levi Fontana is not saying anything about Eden asking him to collect the fish.

Theory Three 3 III

Eden Tobisa murdered Arei Nageishi. Arei Nageishi chose to aid in this process by collecting the fish for her, without knowing the intent. Arei Nageishi could not have said anything because she is dead.

Under both of these theories, the following pieces of evidence remain unaccounted for:

Missing Tape

Missing Glove

Broken Light

Starch Ball

Floor Scuffs

Missing Turpentine

Note Spelling Errors

Stalking Eden

In order to account for these pieces of evidence, let's assume that both of these theories are false, or flawed. If we discover that they still work with these pieces of evidence, they they will be reaffirmed. If we discover they do not, they will be false.

Missing Tape

Let's begin with the Missing Tape. In episode 6, a roll of tape goes missing from the background of the Ace Markey Assault scene. The only two people capable of taking this tape are Eden & Ace. Ace could not have taken this tape because if he could, then Teruko could have as well, and during the trial, it will not be possible to distinguish which of the three took the tape. By having Ace account for Teruko and Teruko account for Ace, Eden becomes the only possible individual who could have taken the tape. The tape was used directly during the murder so whoever had it had to have been involved in the crime. Because Eden could not have been an accomplice (collected the fish) this means that she can only have been a murderer. The tape reaffirms both Theory I, Theory II & Theory III.

Missing Glove

Ordinarily, Arei Nageishi wears a bowling glove on her left hand. Her corpse lacks this glove. Someone had to have taken it. We do not have a reason for why it would be taken, or what it would be used for. This piece of evidence has no effect on any established theories.

Broken Light

A light above the rafters in the playground is broken. Something on the level of the rafters had to have hit the lights and broken them. We do not know what this would be. This piece of evidence has no effect on any established theories.

Starch Ball

A ball of Teruko & Hu's old clothing was bound together using a sticky substance. We do not know what the function of this ball is. We do not know what substance was used to bind the clothing. This piece of evidence has no effect on any established theories.

Floor Scuffs

There are scuff marks on the floor of the playground. The floor was damaged by something which scraped against it. We do not know what scraped against it. This piece of evidence has no effect on any established theories.

Missing Turpentine

The turpentine used to knock Ace unconscious is never accounted for. Arei's body has no signs of a struggle or injury. The turpentine could have been used to knock her unconscious before the murder. If true, the murdered had to have been in possession of the turpentine in order to murder Arei. This piece creates some friction with Theory I, II & III because Eden has no access to the turpentine - Ace's attempted murderer does. This however does not prove any of these theories false, and is not an impossible truth to coincide with.

Note Spelling Errors

The note has several spelling & grammar errors. This suggests that the killer either has poor literacy skills or that the killer was in a rush while writing the note. The note was placed into the trash intentionally with the intention of framing Arturo and Eden. This piece of evidence has no effect on any established theories.

Stalking Eden

On Day 2 before Teruko & Eden find Ace's body, Eden remarks that someone has been following her. Applying this to both Theory I & Theory II creates some friction. There are two scenarios here: Eden is being stalked by a third party who is unrelated to the murder as a whole or Eden is being stalked by an established party in this case. In the former scenario, the existence & participation of a third party has to be justified in the case's structure. In the latter, two people could have been stalking Eden: Arei or Levi.

Let's consider both of these possibilities:

Arei is stalking Eden and she ended up the victim of this case. Eden murdered her.

Levi is stalking Eden and he ended up the accomplice of this case.

In the former, the justification of this stalking would have been that Arei stalking Eden eventually culminated in Arei's murder. The flaw with this is that Arei's murder premeditated, not spontaneous. Also, Eden collected the tape, so, if she was planning on killing it would have been before she discovered who was stalking her. Let's disregard this scenario.

In the latter, the justification for the stalking would have been that Levi stalking Eden eventually culminated in Eden forming an alliance with Levi for the murder. This is an issue because, the fish were used to create an alibi for the murder. This necessitates the existence of an accomplice who can collect the fish for you. The murder is premeditated, so this element was also, premeditated. Eden had already conceived of the plan because she was collecting the tape. If the accomplice did not come into existence before Eden conceived of the plan then Eden's plan does not work. This dissuades the possibility that it was Levi stalking Eden.

Let's return to the third party - why?

In the scenario that Eden murdered Arei on Day 4 during the morning, and that Levi was her knowing accomplice on Day 3 or that Levi or Arei were her unknowing accomplice on Day 3, what would be the purpose of having a third party involved in this case?

Or more specifically, what evidence would there be that there is actually a third party involved, at all. Going through all the evidence, there is nothing to suggest that any third party is involved other than Eden being stalked. So - Why? Why was she being stalked? Who would have a vested interest in stalking Eden?

Initially, at the start of the trial, Eden is framed by the note which is signed under her name. This note is also significant because whoever wrote it had to have been aware of the infirmary conversation which happened on Day 2. If it was Eden who wrote it, then there would be no issue because she would have been present for the conversation. If it was a third party who wrote it, then we suddenly have a reason for there to be someone stalking Eden but we now don't have a reason for them to have known about the infirmary conversation. So, basically, in order for the third party to justify their existence, assuming that this 'third party' is actually the true killer, we need to justify why they would be aware of the infirmary scene to begin with.

For now, let's say this: Theory I, II & III are now dubious as a result of this evidence and we now have a fourth theory.

Theory Four 4 IV

The party stalking Eden killed Arei Nageishi.

Who stalked Eden?

Assuming that whoever stalked Eden killed Arei Nageishi, and assuming that, because Eden and Levi were the only two reasonable people to have been paired as murderer and accomplice with the current alibis, there cannot be an accomplice, that means there can only be three murderers: Ace, Rose & Levi. Let's discuss each of these stalking parties.

Ace

Ace stalked Eden. Ace collected the fish on Day 3. Ace forged the note which framed Eden and lured out Arei. Ace killed Arei on Day 4 using the turpentine to knock her out for the murder.

The flaws with this are that, Ace does not have access to the grip tape which would set up the murder and Ace does not have access to the turpentine which would be used to knock out Arei.

Rose

Rose stalked Eden. Rose collected the fish on Day 3. Rose forged the note which framed Eden and lured out Arei. Rose killed Arei on Day 4 using the turpentine to knock her out for the murder.

The flaws with this are that, Rose does not have access to the grip tape which would set up the murder and Rose does not have access to the turpentine which would be used to knock out Arei.

Levi

Levi stalked Eden. Levi collected the fish on Day 3. Levi forged the note which framed Eden and lured out Arei. Levi killed Arei on Day 4 using the turpentine to knock her out for the murder.

The flaws with this are that, Levi does not have access to the grip tape which would set up the murder, Levi does not have access to the turpentine which would be used to knock out Arei and Levi would not need to turpentine to knock Arei unconscious.

???

Why do none of these possibilities work? And, if they don't work, then what's happening? The key flaws here are that, only Eden could have accessed the grip tape, and none of them could have accessed the turpentine.

Disregarding Eden & the grip tape for a moment, let's discuss the turpentine because as is, this is the wild card - we don't know who does have access to the turpentine.

Or, supposedly we, do - Nico.

Nico Hakobyan

Nico tried to kill Ace.

How did Nico try to kill Ace?

Nico knocked Ace out with the turpentine, hung Ace to the ceiling fan using metal wire & a similar mechanism to the one which snapped Arei's neck and...

?

Took him down? Why? To strangle him after hanging him?

Also, there's another issue here. How did Nico access the metal wire? Or more specifically, from where did Nico access the metal wire There is one metal wire which has been set up in the story. In chapter one, the custom items list reveals that one person was given a metal wire: Hu Jing. So, the necessary progression from here to ask is - how did Nico get the wire from Hu? Would she have just given it up if asked unprompted? And, if yes then, how did Ace fall & why didn't Nico flee the scene after he fell? Why did Nico remove the wire from his neck?

To simplify things, I'll just say this: I do not believe that Nico set up the murder intended to kill Ace.

So then - who did? Things have been set up so that there's only one other person who would have access to the resources needed to make Ace's murder attempt. This person is Hu Jing herself.

Let's address the turpentine again.

Missing Turpentine

Nico had the turpentine. Nico had the turpentine because, they painted with Rose in the dress-up room. Rose left the turpentine out, unaccounted for, and does not know what happened to it. Teruko is the one who suggested that Nico stole the turpentine to begin with. Turpentine is a sticky substance with a foul odor which evaporates several hours after use - it's primary job is to be a binding agent. The turpentine was left out in dress-up room. Nico could have taken the turpentine; we however, do not know this. The turpentine, left alone by Rose in the dress-up room is, almost entirely unaccounted for. Let's assume for a moment that Nico was not actually the one to take the turpentine. Who else is capable of getting the turpentine that we would know about?

"Starch" Ball

The ball of clothing bound together by a sticky substance in the dress-up room is bound together using turpentine. This tool was used to knock both Ace & Arei unconscious for their respective murder attempt and murder. The person who made the "starch" ball got the turpentine by going to the dress-up room and finding it there. The starch ball was made shortly after this connection was made in their head. Who is an individual with a motive to clean up the leftover clothes as well as to use the turpentine to make an attempt on Ace's life? Who made this "Starch Ball"? Hu made this "Starch Ball."

This piece of evidence now suggests that the killer had to have known about and made the "Starch Ball" before Ace's murder attempt, during Day 2, after Nico and Rose painted together - so, after lunch time and before night time.

Floor Scuffs

There are scuff marks on the floor of the playground. The floor was damaged by something which scraped against it. If Arei was called out to the playground to meet with the killer, and the "Starch Ball" was used to knock Arei unconscious, then the scuffs (at the entrance of the room) would be from Arei scraping her feet against the ground in a struggle. This point of evidence now suggests that the killer had to be aware of the "Starch Ball" in order to knock Arei unconscious.

Missing Tape

This is the biggest killer of theory IV. Actually, this is the biggest killer of any theory which doesn't suggest that Eden killed Arei. Eden took the tape - almost unambiguously. We know that Teruko was close to Ace, and that Ace was close to Teruko, and that Eden was directly behind the two of them, and that Eden has a container which she could immediately hide the tape in. Not only does this interrupt the how of the case, because we know need to know how the murder could be set up if Eden did not kill Arei but we also need to know why - why take the tape to begin with?

Here's a suggestion: Somebody was stalking Eden. Somebody had reason to care about where she was. Eden, if she used the tape to set up Arei's murder, was already planning on grabbing it to begin with. By being put in a place and time where she was set to grab the tape, she was always going to find Ace's body first. Eden was asked to grab the tape so that she would find Ace's body.

Hu Jing

Let's review.

We're assuming the following:

The victim is Arei Nageishi.

Arei died in the playground.

Arei died during the morning after 7:30 AM and before 8:00 PM.

Arei died by having her neck snapped.

The party stalking Eden was the one to write the note framing Eden

Hu set up the murder mechanism which was used to make an attempt on Ace's life

Hu went to clean up the old clothes left behind in the dress-up room and found the turpentine left over from Nico & Rose's painting session.

Hu created the "starch" ball.

Hu knew where the tape was, because she set up the murder

Hu asked Eden to collect the tape so that Eden would discover Ace's body.

Now, there is one pretty major flaw with this. That being, Hu has an alibi - right?

For both the morning and the night she was with someone. During the night, with Eden, and during the morning, with Nico. We discarded the possibility of anyone other than Eden having an accomplice a while ago, since only Eden has had positive relations with any of the possible combinations of murderers & accomplices so far. So, Hu couldn't do it, right?

Hu is the only one who claimed she has an alibi for the morning time. Nico did not corroborate this claim. Hu alone substantiated it. If all above is true, then, the conclusion is clear. Hu lied about her alibi.

What kind of person is Nico Hakobyan. How do they deal with all conflict? When faced with a challenge, what does Nico do? Nico runs away. Nico, avoids the problem.

If Nico were to realize that they have been unconsciously complicit in the murder plan of another person for the entire trial, and this person was someone who consistently talked over Nico, minimizing their perspective implicitly, how do you think Nico would deal with this problem? They wouldn't say a word.

Now, let's say, Hu lies about her alibi - what does Nico do? Say, someone asked Nico to collect fish from the relaxation room, which just so happened to be used in the murder? What would Nico do?

Theory Five 5 V

Hu Jing used to the turpentine and metal wire to make an attempt on Ace's life. Eden was set up to find the body. Hu Jing was following Eden because she wanted to frame Eden. During this time, she saw Eden & Arei's exchange in the infirmary. When Ace did not die because of Nico Hakobyan's interreference, Hu Jing switched targets. Hu Jing murdered Arei Nageishi. Nico Hakobyan was her unknowing accomplice during this murder. Nico Hakobyan collected the fish needed for the murder and gave her an alibi for the murder. Eden was framed for the crime using the note hidden in the trash can. Hu would have access to the tape and the turpentine. Hu would have, by this plan, be given an alibi for both the night and morning time.

What evidence is left undiscussed with this conclusion?

Missing Glove

Broken Lights

Note Spelling Errors

The latter two can be explained if the killer was in a rush while committing the crime. The first cannot. I do not have an explanation for the missing glove. It's usage is not something I understand in this case.

In (my) conclusion,

Hu Jing murdered Arei Nageishi

A pig never hopes to grow into a human, because it know a metamorphosis like that is impossible.

[glimmeringtwilight]

Daffodils p2 | Yandere Diluc x Reader x Dottore

this might be incoherent. i still dislike the ending but atp if i keep chipping away i'm going to abandon it lol

CW: referenced reader death (from p1), angst, captivity, yandere themes, body horror (mild for. y'know. my usual), minor character death, NSFW (not super explicit, and no specific wordage for uuu parts), cuckholding, blood, non-consensual voyeurism (diluc), dubcon, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms (do not imitate)

Word Count: 2.6k

It’s a dreary autumn day when the master of the winery returns with you in tow.

The manor is quiet, still as the Snezhnayan winter that he trekked through for the past several sleepless days and nights to get you. More quiet, however, is you, who hasn’t spoken a word since Diluc dragged you out of that dimly lit, dilapidated lab stinking of chemicals that he found you in. 

He’s tried everything he knows on the journey back. You didn’t struggle once as he carried you back home– didn’t try to run when he’d rest with you in his arms– but you didn’t say a single thing to him no matter how hard he tried to get you to speak.

That’s fine. It’s shock, he supposes. He doesn’t know what that madman did to you, and if he didn’t have such precious cargo he would have gone back there and burned that place to the ground; charring the snowy, lifeless landscape surrounding it. 

But he has you. He has you now, and that’s all that matters. Even if your skin has lost some of its color now, dull and cold. Even if there’s a quiet ticking in your chest in place of a heartbeat. Even if you only ever look through him, now. It’s enough. 

This is what Diluc tells himself as he returns you to the room that had been your prison for months, as he dusts off the bars of your gilded cage before locking you back inside. 

You don’t say anything. But it’s enough, just having you. It’s enough, he thinks.

Adelinde keeps checking in on him now that he’s returned. Her face is always pinched with a quiet concern when she speaks to him, and the servants in the manor part like the sea against jagged stone when he walks past them in the halls. 

The estate seems to hold its breath around him; no longer a ghost, but perhaps something worse. As though the light he’d held against the darkness was snuffed out, and the shadow cast in its wake was long. But he’s fine. He swears it. He’s fine, now that you’re back. He’ll be perfect for you, the perfect gentleman; the man he swore he was but could never seem to be, before.

It’s enough to just have you. To hold you every night as he lays next to you, still in your bed like a corpse, listening to the ticking in your chest like a clock counting down to nowhere. Diluc finds himself dreading the ticking and seeking it out all the same.

Weeks pass like this, with Diluc unraveling slowly as he tries to cling to the crumbling memory of you, bastardized by his selfishness and immortalized in the husk of you he keeps locked in your room. 

None of the servants are allowed to see you. He hears them at night, whispering to each other when they think he’s gone to sleep. 

“He’s lost his mind.”

“Are they even alive, in there? I haven’t seen them at all. Adelinde said they–”

“Keep your voice down– are you trying to wake him?”

He hasn’t lost his mind. He has you here now, to ground him, to make him whole. Even if your body seems to be crumbling, tearing apart with every passing day.

You don’t say anything anymore. You don’t eat, but you choke down whatever food he forces down your throat, teeth clacking against silverware as you stare off into nothing. Most of his days are spent taking care of you, keeping you together, stoking the fireplace in your room to keep you warm.

You don’t seem to mind the cold, but he still forces you to sit by the fire, warming you up in a facsimile of living flesh. He tries everything– cleaning you carefully every morning before dressing you, tending to the sutures that never seem to heal.

But he can’t seem to bring you back fully. Can’t seem to warm the skin that cools quickly when you’re not kept by the fire, can’t seem to wipe that glassy look from your eyes, can’t seem to drown out the ticking in your chest.

Adelinde comes home one day from running errands to find all of the clocks in the estate smashed and left out on the front steps, some of the servants already tending to the mess as the master of the estate slips back inside the manor like a shadow of the setting sun. 

He can’t figure it out. You won’t talk to him, won’t hardly look at him unless he takes you by the jaw and forces you. He can barely stand to hold you.

It’s enough. It’s enough. It’s enough. 

But he knows it isn’t. He can’t bear living with the ghost of you, settling for the corpse he keeps in his bed. He wants you to smile at him like you used to. Needs to hear your voice again. Holding you close while you’re still so far from him is driving him mad. 

It’s another dreary day when he finally breaks. Rain pours against the roof of the estate, blazing trails down the window panes. You’re sat by the fire again as you always are, most days. 

Diluc kneels at your feet, his head buried against your knees as he begs you to speak.

“I love you,” He says. He reaches up, pressing a trembling hand against your cold cheek. He can’t seem to chase the snow out of you. You don’t respond. He tries again. “I love you.”

Your eyes flick to his, the barest indication of life in them– but you look through him all the same, as you have been for weeks, now. He sits up, eyes wild, and leans over you, grasping your face desperately. He can’t bear to look at it anymore.

Diluc pulls you close, burying his face against your nape and gritting his teeth at the smell of chemicals clinging to you. You still smell like that place. Like chemicals. Like the Doctor. No matter how many times he bathes you, no matter how hard he scrubs. It’s there. Always there. Faint, but still there. 

“Please come back to me,” He whispers, clutching you against his chest like you’ll slip through his fingers at any moment. …Like you haven’t already. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

For the first time in weeks, you speak. Your voice is hoarse, quiet and wispy from disuse. It’s like the sun peeking through the clouds after a long storm, a refreshing wind–

“Take me back.” You rasp, and his blood runs cold. When he doesn’t respond, you repeat yourself. “Take me back.”

Diluc stays there a minute, gasping through clenched teeth as grief and anger rattle through him. You don’t mean it. You can’t. You let out a quiet, pained sound from how tight his grip on you has gotten, and he pulls away like he’s been burned. 

He can’t look at you. There’s a ticking behind your chest, behind his ears– whatever it is the Doctor replaced your heart with– he can’t unhear it. Without a word, he leaves swiftly, locking the door behind him as he goes. 

When he returns, the fire in the hearth has dimmed to embers, and you’re still perched exactly how he left you. Like a doll. He breathes a shuddering sigh and moves you to the bed, laying you down and tucking you in with all the tenderness and care his trembling hands can manage. 

Instead of begging you to speak, he slips out of the room again, instructing Adelinde to look after you while he’s gone. 

He knows how to fix this: it must be your heart. Must be that facsimile of a beating heart stuffed into your chest that’s causing you to act so hollow and lifeless. If he can just find it, he can bring you back. He’s sure of it. 

Diluc journeys for another several days and nights, returning to the lab he’d found you in and tearing the place apart until he finds what he was looking for– your heart, preserved in formaldehyde and kept in a jar like some sort of sickening keepsake. 

There’s no sign of the Doctor anywhere, but Diluc doesn’t have enough mercy left in his heart to spare for the Fatui grunts unfortunate enough to get caught in his path. Blood stains his jacket an even deeper shade of red, sinking into the stitching deep enough that he’s certain even Adelinde wouldn’t be able to remove the stains. 

He burns the place down once he’s finished, true to his word, leaving the smoldering building behind as he makes the journey back with bloodstained boots and clothes, carrying the final piece of you; the missing puzzle piece in his hands.

Biting winds at his back keep his pace hurried as he rushes home; he has barely slept by the time he finally returns, the sun rising over the peaceful estate of the winery like a promise of hope. 

He’s delirious and exhausted from hardly pausing to rest throughout the entire journey home, but he has it– he has what he knows will fix you, bring the light back into your glassy eyes. 

The manor is quiet when he steps inside, and Diluc freezes when he sees Adelinde’s body laying at the bottom of the stairs, neck twisted at an unnatural angle and her expression frozen in horror. 

No-

His first instinct is to find you, stepping over Adelinde’s body despite the pang of grief that lances through his chest. Every step only turns his blood cooler in his veins, cutting through exhaustion and delirium like a blade.

The door to your bedroom is cracked and he throws it open, freezing as he sees what’s there.

You’re smiling. For the first time since he lost you, you’re smiling, eyes crinkled with warmth as the number two of the Fatui Harbingers looms over you like a malaise.

Floorboards singe underfoot, but Diluc isn’t given time to act before hands snatch his arms, ripping his Vision from him and tossing it aside. Whatever angered curse he was going to say is cut off by another pair of hands shoving a gag into his mouth, and it takes several agents to drag him into the room and force him into the chair set up by the bed.

There’s the sound of breaking glass as the struggle knocks the precious cargo he’d carried all this way from his hands, shattering against the floor. Whatever grief he may have felt at the sound  is drowned out by the sight of you as the Fatui grunts forcibly sit him down in the chair and start to tie him down. 

Rope cuts into his wrists and his legs as he’s tied to the chair; two of the pyro agents stay behind to keep him from thrashing or knocking the chair over as the rest slink back into the hallway. 

It isn’t until the last of the rope is secured, leaving the frazzled wine tycoon seething from behind the gag but unable to do much else, that Dottore finally speaks up. 

“I’m glad you could finally join us, Master Diluc,” The Doctor drawls, words dripping with condescension and cyanide. “I was beginning to worry.”

A knowing smile tugs at Dottore’s lips when he turns to see Diluc’s expression, distress creased in the lines of his brow as his attention remains fixated solely on you. 

Diluc sees now. That bastard is sitting in your bed, the bed you’re meant to share with him, as gloved fingers lazily toy with your nipples. The clothes you were wearing are haphazardly strewn about the floor. 

Dottore readjusts. Takes hold of your legs and wraps them loosely around his hips as he situates himself more comfortably on the bed. Diluc feels nausea roiling in his gut.

He can’t tear his eyes away when Dottore’s fingers drift downward, tracing over your stomach before dipping between your thighs. The soft sound you make burns him. 

It’s torture, listening to you. He’d wanted so desperately for any sound from you– anything at all– these past few weeks, but not like this. Not while you’re looking up at that monster like he’s the moon– the most life Diluc’s seen in your eyes in weeks– as he defiles you. 

Every noise seems to chip a piece of him away, cutting deeper than any blade could hope to manage.

As much as it rends him to watch, he can’t tear his eyes away, taking in the sight of you shuddering and moaning softly in response to another man’s touch. 

Something acrid and bitter swells in his chest– he can’t help but think that if it weren’t for him, you’d never be here. If he hadn’t stolen you, held on too tight so that you’d run away the first chance you’d gotten, you never would have died… Never would have wound up under the Doctor, on his operating table or in this bed.

Worse, still, is the selfish insistence he still feels. If he hadn’t taken you, he fears the worst may have happened to you– as though the worst hadn’t already come true. He did all of this to protect you– yet he’d failed to do even that. 

You eventually shudder in a way Diluc recognizes and he sags against the chair, feeling something crack inside him. This is killing him. As much as pain rips through his chest, he can’t help but cling to that rending heartache, tolerate it if it means he gets to see you smile again. You’re still in there– not a doll, not a ghost.

He loves you; he always will. Even this will never make him hate you– it’s not your fault that you’ve been caught up in the jaws of a monster. It’s not your fault that he’d failed you. 

Dottore adjusts, and whatever self-loathing Diluc had felt starts to wither at the sound of rustling fabric. No. No- 

He tries to thrash in his chair, held down by the two agents standing behind him with a firm grip on his shoulders. He tries to turn away, to close his eyes and shut out the world as the whimper from you that follows sears him like a brand. Hands dig into his jaw, prod at his eyelids with a force that threatens to blind him until he unwillingly opens them again. 

Months ago, when Diluc thought you’d finally settled, finally adjusted to your new life here, there was the barest beginnings of warmth in your eyes. Acceptance. Love, his heart hoped. He’s reminded of that again; you have the same embers of warmth in your gaze as you once did before the sky fell. 

That same look you’d once given him, but now it’s directed at the monster grinning down at you. He never thought that warmth could ruin him, but the grief that settles into his bones is a worse pain than one he’s ever known. 

The hope that he’d journeyed home with withers and dies at his feet like the heart the Doctor had stolen from you– to know it wasn’t merely literal is agony. His greed had been the undoing of you both. 

In the garden, the daffodils had died months ago; it was the end of their season. They’d planted sunflowers near where your grave once was instead, but those are dying too, afflicted by some disease or pest. 

Diluc had once hoped you’d go out into the garden to see them, but ever since he’d brought the ghost of you home you’ve only ever haunted this one room; days spent staring at the hearth instead of out the window like you’d used to. 

Jealousy is ugly and loud in his head, clinging to his throat like tar.

Perhaps he’s damned; he wishes that you hadn’t found the light that he’d stolen from you in another man.