#more like the implied past memory of child murder but still

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

What if I told u,,,,, a RepairBot-Reader comic-tidbit was in the works,,,,

(WiPs!)

Featuring! A small and sweet moment for ReaderBot making a new friend <3

(don’t worry, there’s some nice angst in there, too)

: )

What do you see, ReaderBot ?

[whoreseason]

RANDOM JAMES MARCH HEADCANONS

CW for murder, drug use mentions, and discussions of trauma/implied child abuse

I think he excels at doing cocaine. I don’t know how to explain what I mean though

He's done quite a lot of it in his life but no longer does, not only because his ass is dead and he can't get high but because such crass indulgences remind him of his younger days

He’d wear women’s perfume if it were more socially acceptable but his ideas around masculinity refuse to let him do this

His hair is naturally a bit curly and he has spent years gelling it into submission

Is 5'8 and rather small build-wise

Despite his size, he can really, really hold his own in a fight, though he fights very dirty. Hand to hand fighting triggers something in him and he does it with pure rage. His opponent will be on the ground before they know it and he'll probably have killed them before he realizes what he's doing

Is a bit resentful of his babyface, as well as his height, and wishes he were both taller and more mature looking

Growing out a mustache was influenced by this

Also deeply resentful of the phrase “prettyboy”, which he’s heard a fair amount

Either puts lifts in his shoes or wears slightly heeled ones. Do NOT bring this up

Has been smoking since he was 12 or so

His eye twitches just slightly when he’s annoyed. It’s often his only outward tell

His only two modes of expressing irritation/anger are “irritated but not showing it” or “literally screaming”

I feel like we as a fandom don’t talk about his canonical temper enough. This individual has probably thrown a fork into a maid’s eye because she got the placement of a napkin wrong

His original accent is lower class Boston, and while this may not be a headcanon, I feel the need to bring this up. His actual voice may sound more like Kit's than anything

Speaks a bit of French and Latin, largely in an attempt to fit in with the old money upper class

Started drinking pretty hard very young, maybe when he was around 12 or 13? And was basically an alcoholic throughout his teenage years

Barely went to school growing up and was more or less able to charm his way into university

Is embarrassed of his Irish heritage. He's a product of his time

Killed his first victim in a rage episode in an alley behind a bar somewhere when he was 16

His first victims were impulsive kills along these lines, but his motives switched from triggered anger to relying on it as he went on, and by the time he was in university he'd get tightly wound and restless if he'd gone a week without it

Took various traits from his first victims-- ways of lighting a cigarette, vocal quirks, body language tics, that sort of thing. As the number racked up and his designed personality become more fleshed out he stopped doing this, but he carries his first kills with him through certain mannerisms, though it's now subconscious

Also took various traits from movie stars and book characters. Spent a lot of time at the cinema as a young man finding things on screen to make a part of himself

Is so very, very fake. Has constructed basically every aspect of his presentation and outward personality

He hates being reminded of who he was before, who he truly was-- he’ll reference parts of his childhood in the context of who he is now and what he's had to overcome, but it’s more like he’s using pieces of his past to construct a story about himself. Anything vulnerable or authentic to that part of his life he won’t bring up, he doesn’t even let it cross his mind

Has worked very, very carefully to suppress his flinching instinct at sudden noise or movement, but sometimes it still comes out when he’s snuck up on

Used to wake up screaming sometimes when he was alive

Would just as often wake up crying, which he quite hated. He never remembered what those dreams were about

He’s glad that he doesn’t sleep anymore and can thus avoid all that. Which is what he loves to do with his memories or any sign of emotional vulnerability, avoid it. Good luck trying to get him to open up about anything

Love you grandpa

[pixelheartthrob]

Elise & the Duke

Elise's relationship with her father isn't discussed very much. I think it's actually one of the most interesting aspects about 06.

In a flashback, he's shown telling a young Elise "Don't cry" and "Become a strong queen who doesn't cry no matter what happens" in response to her grieving over her mother's death, which is...not great. A child should be allowed to grieve over their deceased parent. Although the Duke means well and says this because he genuinely believes strong leaders never cry (which is far from the truth), that doesn't make what he's doing okay. It doesn't matter that he's saying it in a soft and gentle tone, either. To a child, it's likely gonna seem like a dismissal of their feelings (which it is). This also shows that he was telling Elise to never cry before he used her as a vessel to seal Iblis.

Another thing I find interesting is that Elise says "I understand everything my parents said to me now." It could imply that Elise's mother held the same sentiment as the Duke, but we don't know for sure.

Now, onto the Solaris Project. Some time before the project began, the Duke told Elise that Solaris' power would allow them to travel through time and rectify past mistakes. The main reason the Duke began the project was so Elise could see her late mother again. Once again, good intentions, but the Duke experimenting with supernatural forces beyond his understanding cost him his life and hurt many people, perhaps his daughter most of all.

So long story short, the project goes wrong and the Duke is fatally wounded in an explosion but shortly before his death, he sealed the Flames of Disaster in Elise and pretty much left her clean up his mess. She was cursed to never shed a single tear, had to rule an entire kingdom at a young age, is relentlessly pursued and kidnapped by a madman who wants to harness her power, and when she makes a single friend, he gets murdered right before her eyes by the creature that her father experimented on all those years ago. Elise is suffering the consequences for her father's actions.

And how does Elise feel about her father after all this? She still loves him deeply. She doesn't express any anger towards him or angst about the way he treated her, or that he inadvertently caused her suffering, even though she has every right to do so. You get the sense that she doesn't realize her father's "love" was actually quite abusive, which is just really tragic. At the start of the game, Elise lacks confidence, is unsure of what she can do in her situation, and even blames herself for the things that are happening. Her attitude gradually changes when she meets Sonic, who encourages her to be more proactive and truly enjoy life instead of being restricted by her role as a princess.

Yet people get on Elise's case for breaking down once at the tail end of the game over the fact that she'd lose the memories of her only friend and would be separated from him?

Elise doesn't mean what she said in this moment, and blows out Solaris' flame to save the world seconds later. She had to bottle up her emotions for a decade and now has to say goodbye to the person whom she grew to love over the course of their adventure. Her reaction here is more than justified.

Elise is such a good character 🤍

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Link Limit Reached! Check out replies for more recs ^^

~*~

1. Any fics where wwx dies and becomes a water spirit? Or any plain water spirit wwx stories?

the past drifts away with the waves by thelastdboy (E, 5k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, canon divergence, fall of lotus pier, major characger undeath, YZY being an asshole, implied/referenced child abuse, minor character death, major character injury, amputation, loss of limbs, transformation, merpeople, fierce corpse WWX, kind of, merperson WWX, resentful creature WWX, undead WWX, riverspirit WWX, it gets worse before it gets better, heavy angst w happy ending, no sunshot, hurt/comfort, politics, not cultivation world friendly, slow burn, getting together, revenge, demonic cultivation, WWX pov, dark WWX, monsterfucker LWJ, wen remnants live, sect leader WQ, WIP) i recently started this story

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, wangxian, WIP, 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, bad dog names, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

~*~

2. Hi! I recently saw the rec about a fic where WWX was pregnant and didn’t know, it was called blood, google and love, I believe, and I‘ve read that, and the fic inspired by the same post. So now I‘m in the mood for that „he didn’t know he was pregnant“ scenario. I don’t really care who the one pregnant is. Thank you so much! @desperation-is-my-middle-name​

Little fall of rain by luckymoonly (M, 10k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, WWX didn’t now he was pregnant, mpreg, family feels, soft LQR, misunderstandings, jealous LWJ, fluff & angst, happy ending, smut, breastfeeding, thirsty granny, JGS being usual self)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) And there's the, "I didn't know I was /still/ pregnant" fic 

Surprise Baby! by trulywicked (M, 10k, wangxian, modern cultivation, ABO, mpreg, unplanned pregnancy, accidental baby acquisation, didn’t know he was pregnant, birthing scene, blood, established relationship, fluff)

~*~

3. hello!! can you guys suggest some hidden/secret child or any stories like lwj didnt know he had a child with wwx

The time we’ve lost by Anye (T, 54k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Everyone Is Alive, But they don't know that, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Twins, Misunderstandings)

Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, wangxian, modern, ABO, implied mpreg, first time, getting together, drama, angst w happy ending, anal sex, whump, breeding kink)

~*~

4. Hello! If this ask is repeated please ignore it I’ve got a memory as bad as wwx and I forgot if I asked this already or not (Not to worry even if it WAS a repeat ask! ITMF posts have a lot of popular asks cycling through frequently ☺️ Repeats are even encouraged since there might have been found even more fics fitting those asks later on ~Mod L)

Anyways, for the itmf I’d like some kind of time travel but starring their parents, like Madam Lan or Canse or Wei Chanze or even Qinghengjun. But please it’s gotta have at least a little bit of wangxian too

Thank! Again sorry if I already asked this

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX) /technically/ a YZY time travel fic?

An Inch of Grass, and All The Sunshine of Spring by ChilianXianzi (T, 1k, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR & LWJ &WCZ, time travel, grief/mourning, parent-child relationship, found family, fluff & angst, CSSR & WCZ live, WIP) Does it count if it’s to the future? Either way, CSSR/WCZ time travel

The Long Winding Road Home by Admiranda (T, 12k, CSSR/WCZ, wangxian, time travel, post-canon, not JC friendly, fluff, family reunion, mocking LQR to his face, mocking JC to his face, wild rumours) another CSSR/WCZ travel forward in time

Love you always, in any form you come in by YumichanHamano (G, 7k, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, post-canon, time travel, fluff) CSSR/WCZ time traveling forward again

~*~

5. Hey ! This is a request for a very specific fic (not a fic finder ) Modern setting is preferred!

Is there any story where either lwj or wwx struggle with understanding social cues /jokes having trouble not being able to hold small talk etc.and people ( friends) making mean comments reactions to , etc..

Like struggling with mental health or

Basically struggling with neurodivergency not knowing their condition/ late diagnosis .

The Bunny Next Door by detailsinthefabric (E, 43k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bottom LWJ, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Soft WangXian, Internally Screaming LWJ, Neighbours)

this author writes neurodivergent wangxian in a very soft and gentle way her fics are locked to the archive so I don't know if I can link any fics?

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

maybe together we can get somewhere (any place is better) by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 49k, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & LQE & LXC, modern, coming of age, QHJ raises his kids, child neglect, implied/referenced child abuse, teen romance, angst w happy ending, first kiss, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced self-harm, neurodivergent wangxian)

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, modern, kid fic, good uncle LQR, neurodivergent LWJ, baby LWJ, baby WWX, parenthood, homophobia, implied/referenced child abuse, LQR pov, implied/referenced underage sex, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort)

deliciousblizzardshark also writes neurodivergent wangxian as well !

Lan Wangji and the Artificial Phallus by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 15k, wangxian, LWJ & MM, LWJ & LXC, modern, neurodivergent LWJ, virgin LWJ, WWX has ADHD, single parent WWX, trans WWX, implied/referenced trans male pregnancy, getting together, fluff & humor, panic attacks, anxiety, implied/referenced ableism, unreliable narrator, masturbation, bottom LWJ)

Heaven, Wait by sunflowersfield (T, 2k, wangxian, modern, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, neurodiversity, falling in love, getting together, happy ending, first dates, first kiss, hyperfixations, strangers to lovers, meet-cute)

~*~

6. Hi. I’m kinda new to the whole tumbler asking and all 😅. But I would like to know if you have an fic where it

A) yu ziyuan bashing or the whole jiang family bashing

B) Everyone loving Wei ying and protective of him

C) The junior squad ABSOLUTELY LOVING wei ying ( i LOVE this prompt 😅🥹)

6A)

💖  Lessons relearned  by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu   Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical   Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse   Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) link in #10

A Curse Upon Your House (Nearly Worn Wings Take Flight) by Preludian_Staves (T, 5k, wangxian, canon divergence, curses, not YZY friendly, off-screen death, rogue cultivator WWX, happy ending, canon-typical violence, no war au, WWX leaves Jiang sect, JFM chooses YZY over WWX)

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

Through the Storm by marhikit (T, 33k, WangXian, Wen Xu/Male OC, WWX has siblings, Canon Divergence, Not Jiang Family Friendly, No golden core transfer, JZX & WWX friendship)

Debts of a Child by Hauntcats (M, 115k, WangXian, dark, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done  by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not  YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX) link in #4

💖 Let the Heavens be the judge) by A_Mirror_of_memories (T, 4k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, not JC friendly, not YZY friendly)

the world wags on by justdoityoufucker (T, 5k, WCZ & WWX, WCZ & LQR, WCZ/LQR, canon divergence, pre-canon, WCZ lives, not everyone dies au, not Jiang friendly, past child abuse, canon Jiang family dynamics, not YZY friendly, parent- child relationship)

Haunted by FlautistsandPeonies (M, 8k, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR & WWX & WCZ, canon divergence, revenge, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, not Jiang friendly, non-linear narrative, canonical child abuse, child neglect, WIP but chapters can stand alone)

💖 Xiao-Ying of the Third Refugee Village by abCEE (T, 31k, wangxian, WWX banished from Jiang sect, not Jiang friendly, found family, mpreg, fluff, flirting)

💖 Light Source by abCEE (M, 31k, wangxian, not Jiang friendly, no golden core transfer, fall of the jiang sect, happy ending)

💖  in payment, a hand series by justdoityoufucker (M, 10k, wangxian, not jiang friendly, amputation, injury recovery, self reflection, abusive YZY, families of choice)

💖 To Speak Up by Vrishchika (M, 7k, wangxian, modern, child abuse, child neglect, not jiang friendly)

💖 crying like a fire in the sun by cl410 (T, 10k, wangxian, runaway WWX, not YZY friendly, rogue cultivator WWX, post-cloud recesses study, grandmother BSSR, angst w/ happy ending)

re 6a, I think we have Jiang Cheng bashing comp lol which might be up their alley

6C)

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, [Podfic] the stone-filled sea by yukla by Beria1021, the stone-filled sea [Podfic] by BrickGrass) THIS ONE for #6c (junior squad loving wwx) but it’s mostly sizhui and jingyi

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, Post-Canon Fix-It, The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

~*~

7. Hellooo, for the next itmf; I'm looking for a fic with alpha wwx and omega lwj. preferably a long fic but it doesn't really matter. Thank you!

Until There Was You Series by farawayanddreaming, InTheGreySpaces (E, 50k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Omega Verse, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, LWJ In Denial About Sexuality, Bottom LWJ, Omega LWJ, Beta LXC, Sibling Incest, Sex as Therapy, LXC is the Best Brother, Worldbuilding, Lore creation, Canon Divergence, Submissive LWJ, but only kind of, Jade-cest, Chronic Pain, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Gentle Dominant WWX, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian)

to eclipse the night by quillifer (E, 15k, WangXian, Courtesan AU, alpha courtesan wwx, Omega LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Canon-era AU, light Violence, off-screen mentioned noncon (not btwn main ship), noncon, A/B/O, minor mentions of future mpreg)

your heart of shadows, your eyes like stars by DrPanda99 (E, 62k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, YLLZ WWX, LWJ Has a YLLZ Kink, Immortal WWX, Identity Porn, Humiliation, Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Canon-Typical Violence, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mildly Dubious Consent, Happy Ending, Alternate Sunshot Campaign, Marriage)

~*~

8. Any fanfic about Lan Wangji not growing up in the Lans? WangXian centric if possible. @catmaid-san​

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 86k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, family, not lan sect friendly, canon typical violence & gore, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, mothers who live, some people live/not everyone dies, [Podfic] Cold read of The Dreams of Youth by kisahawklin) Lwj leaves the lan sect and is raised by his mother.

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not Rated, 48k, WangXian, Coffin Maker AU, YL WWX, Location: Yílíng, LWJ builds coffins, Autistic LWJ, falling in love over a coffin, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, LWJ Has Feelings, Deathscapes, Death as a bittersweet community thing, accidental ecofiction, Farmer LWJ)

~*~

9. Hi, please recommend  some of the best dark lwj fan fiction @dog-89

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 34k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) After slaughtering many cultivators lwj travels back in time and takes wwx for himself. Not dark as in cruel, but on the dark end if morally grey- lwj kills anyone who tries to get in the way of him and wwx

💖 Ominous by 3neetee (T, 5k, wangxian, pre-relationship, established relationship, character death, fae & fairies, changelings, dark LWJ, dark WWX, BAMF WWX, graphic description, suicide, implied/referenced domestic violence)

💖 I just wanted to see you so bad by Blackberreh, ThatOnePlatypus (T, 1k, wangxian, canon divergence, dark LWJ, minor character death, blood)

💖 demons run when a good man goes to war by Miranda_Aurelia (T, 20k, wangxian, LWJ & NHS, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, angst w happy ending, NHS & LWJ friendship, not JGY friendly, dark LWJ, revenge, (presumed) major character death, not LXC friendly)

💖 Somewhere Sits an Empty Throne by Siamesa (E, 19k, WangXian, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, tgcf fusion, Gods & Goddesses, Ghosts, Romance, vengeance, Dark LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💖 Do you want to hear by allollipoppins, dameauxgentianes (T, 12k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, canon divergence, not everyone dies au, epistolary, Madam Lan lives, minor character death, dark LWJ, Lan WWX, bad parents JFM & YZY, good uncle LQR, no sunshot campaign)

💖  Like the sea loves the shore by Say (E, 15k, wangxian, LQY & WWX, implied/referenced WWX/WC, F/F, rule 63, dark LWJ, protective LWJ, sirens, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst w/ happy ending, eventual smut, human WWX, siren LWJ, age difference, non-human genitalia, minor character death)

💖  Buried in the Sky, Hallowed by thy Depths by themunchking (T, 9k, wangxian, supernatural elements, sirens, dark wangxian, canon-typical violence)

💖 The Way You Tremble by themunchking (E, 6k, wangxian, murder husbands, vampires, blood, violence, supernatural elements)

~*~

10. In the mood for a timetravel AU where it's not wangxian that timetravels but someone else.

Heliocentric by Aki_no_hikari (T, 13k, Time Travel Fix-It, slight angst at the beginning, badass wq, Murder, dark!wq, although not as dark as she could be) Wen Qing time travel

Who You Condemn by osiesaur (M, 53k, LXC/NMJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, semi-successful fix-it, 3zun dynamics, grief/mourning, chronic illness, angst w happy ending,not everyone dies au, WIP) LXC time travels (the other two fics in the series also have non-wangxian time travel)

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

Baby Of Mine by pupeez4eva (G, 3k, wangxian, time travel, humor, canon divergence, everyone lives, gusu school days, family) I really like this one where baby a-yuan time travels

💖 Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, wangxian, time travel, butterfly effect, LXC pov, protective LXC, temporary character death, mpreg, panic attacks) LXC time travels multiple times

💖 Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) LQR time travels

💖 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, possessive LWJ, oblivious WWX, fluff, siblings, romance, golden core reveal, golden core fix-it) LXC time travels, link in #16B

💖 secondhand regrets by spookykingdomstarlight (T, 18k, JGY/NHS, wangxian, NHS/WWX, time travel fix-it, canon divergence, curses, cloud recesses study arc, jealousy, misunderstandings, petty LWJ, pining, minor romantic experimentation between NHS/WWX, jealous LWJ) NHS time travels

💖 With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder) WQ time traveling

Jiang Rising by eebee (M, 134k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, JC&WQ, JYL/LXC/NMJ, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, JYL is out of fucks, WQ never even had many, epistolary, polyamory negotiations, WIP) JYL time travels

Keeping Our Promises Unbroken by ColdBloodedReptile (M, 80k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL & WWX & JC, JYL & WQ, LWJ & JYL, canon divergence, time travel, fix-it of sorts, not everyone dies, angst w eventual happy ending, fluff, family feels, slow burn, JYL pov, found family, sibling bonding, protective siblings, occasional LWJ pov, canon-typical violence, WIP) here's a Yanli (and surprise other) time travel fic

💖 How Much Love Has the Inch Long Grass by Vainwyrm (M, 12k, WIP,  WangXian, ZhuiLingYi, XuanLi, Time Travel Fix-It, Permanent Injury,   Disability, Canon Disabled Character, Physical Disability, Non-canon   disabled character, Self-Worth Issues) The juniors time travel

💖 The Stuff of Legend by pupeez4eva (T, 21k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, time travel, humor, cloud recesses study days, post-canon, matchmaking, misunderstandings, WIP) Another time travel for juniors

💖 Who Ever Said the Past is Set in Stone? by Tekia (T, 24k, time travel, not a fix-it, and then a fix-it, canon-typical violence, sunshot campaign, canon divergence, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, depression) juniors time travel multiple times

💖 The night sky is vast and wide by RedWritingHood (not rated, 5k, WC & WWX, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, WC the embodiment of fear and anxiety, PTSD, WC suffering, WC & WWX... friendship?, concerned WWX, frightened WC, sweetheart WN) Wen Chao ends up time traveling

💖 the peaceful old broad river by Sienne (not rated, 11k, WQ & WWX & WN, WQ pov, time travel, found family, family feels, no golden core transfer) WQ time travels in this one!

💖 A Brother's Choice by Admiranda (G, 8k, gen, time travel, yiling bros, animal death, minor character death, WN has no time for fools, YZY’s canonical cruelty, post-canon setting) WN time travels

💖 aim to repaint these days by NinthFeather (T, 2k, time travel fix-it, junior shenanigans, humor, sunshot campaign) Juniors again

💖 Drag Me Into Your Coffin (I Will Drag Your Sins Into the Light) by the5leggedCricket (G, 2k, canon divergence, temporary character death, time travel fix-it, BAMF LXC) LXC time travels

💖 Back in time  by LilacNeko (T, 32k, wangxian, time travel fix-it of sorts, angst, family feels, good kid LSZ, sad JL)

💖 i’ll keep walking by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, WQ &WWX & WN, wangxian, time travel fix-it, not JC friendly, everyone lives au, found family)

💖 parent trap by tongzhi (T, 23k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, wangxian, JYL/JZX, time travel, cloud recesses study arc, humor, bad matchmaking)

💖 无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling’s Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

💖 Mission: Ensure A Better Future by a_dancer (Not rated, 21k, wangxian, junior quartet, time travel)

💖 Truth, Like an Arrow by Nahiel (T, 3k, wangxian, character death, time travel fix-it, WN is a good boy)

To Fix Your Twisted Reflection by Dgcakes (ficsnfun) (M, 167k, 3zun, time travel fix-it, slow burn, trust, healthy relationships, or at least trying)

Snapping brushes by Kayo_San (T, 63k, NHS & NMJ, time travel fix-it, Nie sect theories)

from the top, this time with personality by thunderwear (G, 15k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, time travel, JYL stands up for herself, family feels, WIP)

Sunlight Through Pines by handsofstardust (M, 66k, JGY/NMJ, wangxian, JZX/JYL, JC/NHS, time travel, eventual romance, pining, verbal abuse)

Wandering Eyes series by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, JGY & NHS, NHS & NMJ, JGY & NMJ & LXC, 3zun, time travel fix-it, outsider pov in the first part, JGY pov, murder, JGS being a creep, self-assigned honeypot, dub con, attempted rape/non-con, scheming NHS)

You might like fics in #4 and #16B also

~*~

11. ITMF request! (for when AO3 returns from the war): I am looking for WangXian fic that includes very close and loving Twin Jades (not Jadecest). Fics where LXC mercilessly teases his didi, where LWJ makes it his mission to pull his brother out of seclusion post-canon, where LXC and LWJ are "battle bros" of the highest order, where they try their damnedest to embarrass each other in front of other people in the most stoic, staid, subtle Lan way possible! @kimboo-york

~*~

12. i wanted to ask if there are any recs for fics in which wwx is saved by lwj, like from the jiangs or whatever, doesn't even have to be heavy whump, but very much jiang slandering.

(not yanli or jiang chen necessarily, but feel free to include anti madam and fengmian propaganda :3)!! @clawmark

🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 48k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU) also preludian_staves

~*~

13. In the mood for fics where people mistake Lan Sizhui as the biological son of WangXian / Lan Sizhui showing habits & similarities to WangXian (based off a reply to a previous ask - Mod C) @ihaveasoftspotfora-yuan

the-marathon-continues-nip: 13a, I have a fic that fits this in my bookmarks , I just have to find it , can the requester bookmark this post cause I might take a couple days to find it. it's a modern AU and it was a 5 times type thing where the premise was 5 times lan zhan got mistaken for being wen yuans dad or something like that over the years. it's very sweet. maybe somebody might remember it?

Just Like His Father by narikanyan (G, 2k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Mistaken Identity, A-Yuan is WWX's, Fluff, Falling In Love) I found it !!

~*~

14. Hi! For the next ITMF I wanted to ask for fics where WWX relates to YZY when he has to hide A-Yuan to save him at the siege (I don't even know if there's a fic like this lol) Like, both of them had to make the difficult decision to leave alone their child and go back to fight, and that was the last time they saw their children before dying. Thank you mods! @jiangclaritybell

~*~

15. Hi, I'm looking for stories where Lan Zhan overprotects Lan Sizhui. He is so overprotective that he won't let him leave Cloud Recesses without company. Sometimes he won't even let it out.If you can find stories that deal with that would be amazing. Thank you. @majhe2026

~*~

16. itmf for outsider pov fics

A) wangxian's relationship development through an outside perspective

B) time travel (doesn't matter who time travels back) through an outsider's perspective

16A)

💙 Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, WangXian, 3rd person pov, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

16B)

I Have Been Selfish, Too by osiesaur (M, 176k, 3zun, JGY & NHS, JGY & JZX & MXY & QS, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, everyone lives au, outsider pov, happy ending, fluff & angst, scheming NHS, protective NHS, 3zun dynamics, anxiety, PTSD, mental health issues, chronic pain, chronic illness, canon-typical abuse & bigotry)

💖 That Moment When You Find Out That Your Classmates Apparently Have a Fighting Kink by BonBonWaifu (T, 2k, wangxian, canon divergence, time travel, outsider pov, NHS pov, sexual tension, fighting kink, cloud recesses study arc)

💖 Marry for Love by tuesday (T, 3k, JYL/NHS, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, minor character death, outsider pov, political marriage)

💖 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, possessive LWJ, oblivious WWX, fluff, siblings, romance, golden core reveal, golden core fix-it)

💖 Who Ever Said the Past is Set in Stone? by Tekia (T, 24k, time travel, not a fix-it, and then a fix-it, canon-typical violence, sunshot campaign, canon divergence, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, depression) IIRC this one fits here too, link in #10

💖 bleed by justdoityoufucker (T, 5k, WangXian, Sunshot Campaign, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Families of Choice, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Canon JC Characteristics, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly)

💖 Targets by nirejseki (G, 10k, NHS & NMJ, JC & WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX & JC, canon divergence, time travel, outsider POV, families of choice, unexpected consequences)

💖 things happen, don’t ask by MarbleGlove (T, 6k, wangxian, time travel, outsider POV, Mojo’s post)

💖 rerun from the outside by Eicas (T, 2k, wangxian, time travel, outsider pov, jiang cheng POV, Mojo’s post)

💖 Wei Wuxian’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good First Meeting With His Future by Enigmatree (T, 3k, wangxian, time travel, outsider pov, YLLZ WWX)

Wandering Eyes series by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, JGY & NHS, NHS & NMJ, JGY & NMJ & LXC, 3zun, time travel fix-it, outsider pov in the first part, JGY pov, murder, JGS being a creep, self-assigned honeypot, dub con, attempted rape/non-con, scheming NHS)

~*~

17. ITMF teen wangxian shenanigans

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets) (E, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, pining while fucking, friends w benefits, cloud recesses study arc, first time, practise kissing, sharing a bed, smut, loss of virginity, getting together, confessions, happy ending)

Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy wwx, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together)

when you love somebody, bite your tongue by sophiahelix (E, 17k, wangxian, cloud recesses study arc, first time, just the tip, only one bed, horny teenagers, sharing a bed, fantasizing, size kink)

your petals that bloom in the snow by lulu_kitty (T, 10k, wangxian, modern w magic, cloud recesses study arc, skaterboy WWX, everyone lives au)

Conjunction by DrJLecter (T, 12k, wangxian, cloud recesses study arc, soulmates au, soulmate identifying song, WWX is a menace, pining, supportive LXC, meddling LXC, LWJ pov)

~*~

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!***

[troutberryspoon]

Unhallowed Heart - Chapter 3: 'An Alliance Beckons'

Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

Third chapter and we get a glimpse of Bhaal's Ecstasy of Murder as Durge Villi experiences it. So, time for some warnings: blood, violence, murder, implied sexual gratification, addiction, etc.

Word count: 1657

Full fic on AO3

___

One hour later.

The Bhaalspawn stalked through the dark streets, each footstep carrying him blessedly further away from Enver Gortash’s mansion. Villi’s shoulders were hunched beneath his cloak, tension radiating from him in palpable waves.

Ah. He spied a fat slug making its ponderous, slimy way across the damp cobbles in front of him. He diverted his path to crush it underfoot. Even gave his heel an extra half-twist to ensure it was smeared into paste.

More. He craved blood. He craved what would come after the blood.

Gods damn that man.

Gortash was clever. He was shrewd. He had played the part of simpering admirer with patience and skill and Villi had underestimated him completely.

This was all Sceleritas’s fault. It would be a bath of boiling oil for the Butler this time.

But later. Later.

For now, the Lower City called.

In its twisting rabbit warren of tight alleyways and switchback streets, Villi found his quarry soon enough. 

A young woman was huddled in a doorway, dressed in rags, her face prematurely lined by hardship and worry. On her lap rested the head of a young boy no more than eight summers old, gently sleeping. The woman hummed a lullaby while brushing her calloused fingers through the child’s curls.

How sweet. How touching.

How tragic it would be, if either one lost the other.

The woman looked up when Villi stopped and tapped his cane in front of her. Her expression was wary.

‘I’m not offering anything you’re wanting,’ she said quietly. ‘Please sir, let us be.’

‘I’d like you to hold this for a moment for me,’ he said, tipping the cane towards her.

The wariness never left her eyes, but the woman did as she was bid. Her hand left the child’s hair and wrapped around the ebony shaft. Villi wondered if she thought she could use it as a weapon against him.

Like a striking snake, his hand darted forwards, grabbing the boy by the front of his shirt and tearing him out of his mother’s grasp.

She shrieked. ‘No! STOP! Let him go!’

The boy awoke with a shudder, eyes wide, legs kicking while Villi held him aloft. The woman, now standing, froze when Villi placed the edge of his dagger against the child’s cheek.

‘I’m begging you. I’M BEGGING YOU!’

Villi pressed harder. Soft skin split. The boy and his mother both screamed as his blood began to run.

‘I’ll do anything!’ The woman’s voice was raw, as if her throat was filled with splinters. She still held onto the cane, knuckles white, but she made no move to use it. The difference between prey and predator, Villi thought.

‘Would you take his place?’ he asked.

‘Yes, yes! Let him go, please let him go! Please, PLEASE!’

‘Did you hear that, child? Look at me.’ He gave the trembling wretch a sharp shake. ‘Your mother is going to die tonight, and it’s all your fault.’

The woman moaned and sobbed. The boy cried so hard that he retched. 

It was horrible. 

It was beautiful.

Villi set the child down, turned, and pulled the woman close. ‘Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal,’ he whispered tenderly in her ear before burying his blade in the yielding expanse of her abdomen. She dropped the cane the third time he stabbed her. She died around the eighth or ninth.

When his arm began to grow tired, Villi stopped and let the body fall. Then, using her blood as paint, he daubed his Father’s symbol on the ground around it. He stepped back to admire his work, and noticed that the boy was still there, still staring at the lifeless ruined thing that was his mother only a short time ago. Good. Let the memory burn itself deep. Let the boy hate Villi every time he saw the scar on his face in his reflection. Let him fear the day Villi would come for him too.

Bhaal smiled on the scene. Villi’s breath hitched. He felt the veil of invisibility slip over his form, prickling his skin as he disappeared from view. He left the boy in the alleyway as he headed north, seeking a place where he could be alone.

A delicious warmth had started to pool low in his belly. Villi rounded a corner and gave thanks when he found himself in a small abandoned yard. While he might currently be invisible, he couldn’t always stay silent when his Father’s gift flooded his veins.

The murder had been well received. Villi pressed his shoulderblades against a wall and tipped his head back, sighing breathlessly as every nerve sparked alight. The steel cables of tension that wrapped his neck tight started to unwind, his cares and worries slipping away one-by-one.

It didn’t happen every time he made a kill. The secret ingredient was love. If he could shatter someone’s heart, break someone’s mind and spirit, bereave an entire community because he had chosen to end a beloved person’s life, then he got a little treat. It had to be deliberate, too. Harrowing. Depraved. Cutting down an enemy on the battlefield didn’t count, regardless of how many orphans he made that way.

His body thrummed in pleasure.

‘Oh, fuck.’ His back arched, swept up in a climax of mind-numbing bliss. An escape, a release. 

And Villi was addicted.

Afterwards he felt hollow and sluggish, but at least his mind was now calm. He could consider the alliance Gortash had offered over dinner.

Essentially, Gortash had figured out that the Bhaalists in Baldur’s Gate were rapidly running out of gold. Their influence was dwindling. They were at risk of becoming nothing more than stories parents used to scare their naughty offspring. 

Villi knew his followers were feral. There was the sense that his arrival in the temple heralded the end times. He was the armageddon-watcher, made by Bhaal to be the last soul alive. Which meant that no-one seemed to be too concerned with keeping the books balanced. They simply murdered everyone in sight.

Over a main course of venison served with crushed swede flavoured with caraway, Gortash made this point; if they couldn’t source enough gold to raise the army needed to bring about the end times, how would it ever come about?

Villi felt seen. He had argued the same point at the pulpit countless times, but it always seemed to fall on deaf ears. Or worse, scheming ears. There were whispers that the Son of Bhaal cared more about coin than bringing death to the world.

‘But we need it!’

‘But you need it!’

Villi and Gortash had made the exclamation at the same time. As if they were in sync.

Just as Villi was starting to feel the stirrings of what could be a real connection for the first time in his existence, Gortash went and ruined it all by revealing that he was a devotee of Bane, the God of Tyranny. Bhaal’s sworn enemy.

Villi had stormed out before dessert had arrived. 

The invisibility enchantment shivered away.

‘Hells,’ he muttered. He had just realised that he’d left his cane in the alley with the boy and his dead mother. If he went back to get it and the child was still there, he’d ruin the scene.

There was a ‘pop’. The stink of burned eggs. Sceleritas.

‘I believe you dropped this, Master,’ Sceleritas said, handing him the missing cane. The fiend took in the blood that covered Villi from his hair to his shoes. ‘I take it you’ve had a good night?’

‘Not really,’ Villi said. ‘I left dinner early. I was going to boil you for suggesting that I go in the first place.’

‘A wonderful idea! I shall get the fires stoked–’

‘I don’t have the energy. Did you know that Gortash is a Banite?’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Sceleritas. Did you know?’

‘Who is to say what is known and what is not…?’

‘So you knew.’

‘Yes.’

‘K’roklig.’ Villi groaned. ‘I don’t know what to do. Gortash knows we’re up to our tits in shit and he–’

Sceleritas cleared his throat. ‘Ahem.’

‘He can help us. With enough funding we could raise an army of Deathdealers and Unholy Assassins, but Gortash asks for an alliance in return. A sworn pact that we will do him no harm. If I decline the temple could collapse, literally and figuratively. I’ll fail my Father and we’ll fade into history. If I accept, am I betraying Him? Will He forsake me?’

‘Your Father sees what is in your dear, puckered heart. You don’t seek this alliance to defy Bhaal, you seek it to glorify Him. He will see. He will know,’ Sceleritas said, patting Villi’s bloodsoaked arm. ‘Trust your Butler. The plan hasn’t changed. It’s true, the Banite knows more about our current challenges than we would like, and the terms are steeper than we thought before. I still see no reason why you can’t go along with it - for now.’

After a few moments of thought, Villi nodded. ‘You’re right. I pray my Father will understand. When we’ve amassed enough power I’ll end Gortash myself. No pact can hold me forever.’

‘Exactly, my Liege. Your destiny dictates that no soul can be left alive. This alliance will be worth less than the rags I use to clean the brain matter from your boots. You’ll just have to play the part, for a while. Your suffering will bring glory to us all.’

‘Then it’s settled. I’ll send word to Gortash on the ‘morrow,’ Villi said. ‘Come, let’s head back to the temple. I’ve got a deep gnome’s forearm in the beetle tank, it should be clean by now. Would you like to assist me with the wiring? I was envisioning a new book holder for my study.’

Sceleritas looked up at him in rapture. ‘Oh, Master!’

‘I’ll boil you afterwards.’

‘You are too kind to old Sceleritas, Master. Too kind!’

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

and you're always free to begin again ch1

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

Dick remembered when Damian had first come home.

All blades and murder and so, so much anger in his little body, constantly overflowing, sharpened to a deadly point like his ever-present katana. His little face, still chubby in his age despite the ridiculous amount of muscle his lithe body had, set in an ever present scowl. Constant screaming, constant threats, constant insults.

Like his brothers, Dick could admit he had been afraid. Damian was not just angry, he was capable.

But Dick was not just a cop, or a vigilante, or the Boy Wonder. Dick was a big brother.

And so after a few days of settling, or as much as that time could be called settling, Dick stopped hearing the words Damian was screaming, and instead listened to what he wasn't saying. He looked past the katana into the little hands holding the blade, steady, precise, deadly, but still, little hands. The hands of a child.

Damian was afraid, even if he himself did not realize it. He was probably, somewhere deep in his subconscious, scared he would have to go back. Dick didn't know the whole story of how he suddenly found himself with a new little brother, but he knew enough to be aware that Damian had come here on his own. By choice. The kid had run away, for whatever reason, so it was safe to assume he would not want to go back anytime soon, if ever.

Besides, coming to live in Gotham, with Bruce, and Alfred, and quite frankly a small army of siblings, was a big change. Dick couldn't even imagine what growing up with the League was like, having that as his whole world. And then to come to a place like this… Yes, there was still fighting, both on the streets and common sibling spats, but there was laughter, and freedom, and love, and… and Dick knew the kid had to be feeling some culture shock, was his point. Confusion was probably not helping his fear, and only served to fuel the anger he used to mask it.

There was also the matter of, well, all of them. The kid seemed especially enraged when anyone so much as implied any of them were his siblings, more intensely so if they called him any variation of “little brother”. Those were the moments when he screamed. Usually, he was quiet, a whole life of training as an assassin drilled into him, but on this topic, he raged loudly and viciously.

He had tried to kill Tim outright upon having him introduced as his brother, the teen having had the misfortune of being the only one of them at the manor with Bruce when Damian had arrived, clad still in his League uniform and nothing but a katana in his hand and a small bag at his back. Dick had been told the second Tim had said the words “I'm your new brother” it was like Damian had been possessed, only just being stopped from dealing the finishing blow by Bruce finally managing to grab and immobilize him.

He had also tried to kill Jason once, when the older man had looked him over and after squinting at him a bit in remembrance of his few and foggy memories of his own days with the League after having been resurrected had asked offhandedly if Damian's eyes hadn't been blue instead of green. It was lucky at least that all of them were in the room at the time, to stop both of them from killing each other on the spot.

Dick himself had had a personal encounter with the katana when he first called him his little brother. That had actually been the moment when Dick had a lightbulb go on in his brain, telling him there was something more than just a fucked up childhood hiding behind those angry eyes and deadly hands, something specific troubling this small assassin child.

Point being, Dick remembered Damian's rage, the fear it hid, the confusion such a flip in his life had produced. And that brought him to now, in a position he wouldn't have expected to be allowed to take, arms around a body so much shorter than him in a light but firm hold, trying to keep the shaking child in his arms from falling apart.

For all that Damian was shaking, he wasn't crying, wasn't making a single sound, simply clutching the back of Dick's shirt with all the power his fists had.

“What happened, little wing?” he asked. They had been sitting in one of the living rooms for their weekly movie night, light commentary floating around, when the youngest Wayne had simply stormed out with clenched fists and jaw. Dick had followed. He was glad Damian didn't immediately resort to violence anymore, not after two years living with them, but even with all the work Dick personally had put into helping the youngest, the boy still didn't really ask for help if he had a problem.

Said boy took in a shaky breath.

“Why will they not stop calling me Dami? I can deal with anything else, I can be the demon brat, I can be little shit, I can be anything I need to be, just not Dami,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Dick frowned. It almost sounded like his brother was holding back sobs, which was alarming on its own. He had never really seen the other cry.

He stopped to think about the question. It was true, he had asked, demanded really, several times to not be called Dami. Nearer the beginning, he had threatened and fought whoever called him that. Mostly they abstained, but there were times they called him that to tease, like when they called Tim Timmy or Timbo. He thought there may be more than just finding the nickname childish or ridiculous behind his aversion to the name, especially seeing as it affected him this much. It was different, to the annoyance and anger he usually displayed.

“Is there a specific reason you don't like it?” he asked back, hoping to find some answers that might help him better deal with the situation.

“No one gets to call me that,” was his response.

The older man frowned. Taking into account the state the kid was in, his response meant more than just the words he said out loud. Lucky for him, Dick had gotten pretty well versed in the language of little brothers who didn't want to bring all their thoughts to reality with words. And so to him, the ending of that sentence was clear as day.

Anymore.

No one gets to call me that, anymore.

Either someone who had hurt him had used that name, linking it to bad memories, or someone who had loved him and he had loved in return had, someone he wouldn't or couldn't see anymore.

Dick wouldn't ask which one. Not at this time. He had more pressing matters to deal with right now.

“Okay. Okay, little wing, I'll tell the others to cut it out,” he reassured his brother. Feeling how he was still shaking, both his breathing and his body, he squeezed him just a bit tighter and added, “And you can cry. It's okay to cry if you're upset.”

Damian only shook harder, pressing his face further into Dickvs shirt.

“Grandfather said we're not to cry,” he said in a small voice. Dick didn't really have time to wonder who “we” entailed in the face of his brother's upset. That line of thinking couldn't stand, not on his watch.

“That is because Ra's al Ghul is incapable of human emotion. You're twelve, cry if you feel like it,” he stated firmly, laying his lips to the top of Damian's head.

With that, the floodgates opened.

Damian cried for a long a long time, unending tears, harsh sobs, loud wailing. Dick knew this was a long time coming, had probably been years in the making, and he was just as sure that as much as this was a general cry for life, there had to be something specific that had Damian wailing. The reason he didn't like to be called Dami.

That was a problem to be solved another time though. Healing didn't happen all at once, and this was a good step in the progress the little boy had made.

For now, Dick simply held his little brother in his arms, silently promising him the safety to cry.

next chapter

[duplicitywrites]

untitled timeloop fic

i plan to write this in the future, probably. until then you just get the entire plot in an info dump 💀🙏🏼

this kind of a psychological horror so if you don't like that i suggest not reading further!

-

harry is the master of death. he goes back in time with the mindset that he can 'fix' tom. the first time he goes back it's to the same year tom was meant to kill myrtle and open the chamber, he decides to be tom's professor, tries to influence him that way to be a better person. but it doesn't work and canon plays out the same way--

so harry goes back in time AGAIN to try, but this time he goes back further and starts earlier in tom's life, at tom's first year. we follow harry's new attempt all the way up until he catches up with timeline1!harry--who he stuns and locks in a trunk, freezing him under stasis.

his new plan is to fix tom first, then send timeline1!harry back to first year with the memories current harry has to complete the time loop.

this STILL doesn't work and canon plays out the same way--

harry goes back further. before tom meets dumbledore. introduce tom to magic in a kinder way. this time, he's sure he will be able to fix everything. he mentors and guides tom up until the first point of the second timeline.

this is where he meets timeline2!harry, who asks him about what he's doing--why did he need to go back again? why are they still failing? current harry stuns him and dumps him into the trunk too.

canon plays out the same way--

harry goes back a third time. he adopts tom from the orphanage as a child and raises him.

this time, when he encounters timeline3!harry, the one who was so sure he had it right, they get into an argument. current harry kills the other harry and puts him in the trunk. he's still thinking he can fix this… and we realize harry isn't exactly sane anymore 🥺

harry continues raising tom until we see timeline2!harry again. harry instantly kills him and dumps the body into the trunk. we realize that every time harry goes through the entire timeline, he's not just encountering the last version of himself, but every single version again.

[time skip]

harry calmly approaching timeline1!harry, who is shocked and confused that this harry has been apparently raising tom this entire time. past harry realizes that this harry is insane ("you can't take tom away from me, he's MINE") and they get into a worse fight than the last one.

timeline1!harry still dies, only tom walks in on the murder and asks harry ("father?") what the hell is going on. this tom has been raised from infancy and thinks of harry as his birth father.

harry explains that he's fixing everything, that it will all be okay if tom can just trust him.

tom follows harry to the trunk, which harry opens up. the trunk is stacked with bodies and bodies and bodies, implying that harry has gone back even more times since the last iteration we saw.

harry says not to worry, that was the last one, and they'll be safe now and no one will come for them again 🥺

the end 😭

[painonthebrain]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: [Alt. prompt] - Forgotten (writing)

BBU, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, memory loss, dehumanization

Day 2: Trust issues (writing)

Whumper-turned-whumpee, transformation (past, demon to human), hygiene things (nonhuman learning about human hygiene), sadism

Day 3: Set up to fail (writing)

BBU, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, conditioning, light violence

Day 4: “You’re still alive in my head” (writing & illustration)

Implied major character death, nightmares, unreality, referenced drug use/addiction

Day 5: “If my pain will stretch that far” (writing)

Death wish, heavy gore, degloving, drugged whumpee (paralytic), immortal whumpee (kind of), medic caretaker, factory whump

Day 6: “It’s not my blood” (writing)

BBU, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, blood, germaphobia, lightly referenced/implied noncon

Day 7: Magic with a cost (writing)

Magic chills, hurt/comfort, fluff

Day 8: Isolation chamber (writing)

Isolation, lab whump, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, self harm

Day 9: Obsession (moodboard)

Yandere/intimate whumper, obsession, noncon kissing, violence, restraints, stalking

Day 10: Slurred words/Passing out from the pain (writing)

Noncon body modification/surgery (aftermath), body horror, drugging, lab whump, nausea, excessive vomit, forced stripping, nonsexual nudity, delirium

Day 11: “Leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist” (writing)

Lab whump, captivity, kidnapping (aftermath)

Day 12: “Just a little more” (writing)

BBU, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, surveillance, conditioning

Day 13: [Alt. prompt] - Body swap (writing)

Body swapping (whumper & whumpee), team whump

Day 14: [Alt. prompt] - Venom (writing)

Venom, alcohol, immortal whumper, implied murder

Day 15: Childhood trauma/Moment of clarity (writing)

Major character death, gore, child whump, fear of death, demon whump, angelic whumpers, eye whump

Day 16: “No, I can’t feel anything” (writing)

Lab whump/medical whump, aliens, experiment whumpee, scientist/surgeon whumper, needles/syringes, noncon drugging, restraints, implied surgical procedure

Day 17: Nowhere else to go (writing)

Child whump, demon whump, environmental whump

Day 18: “I see what’s mine and take it” (writing)

Servant auction, creepy whumper

Day 19: One way out (writing)

Lab whump, sedated/unconscious whumpee, implied surgical procedure (future)

Day 20: “It’s not your fault” (art)

Murder

Day 21: Let the bedsheet soak up my tears” (art)

Minor whump, nightmare

Day 22: Reopening wounds (writing)

Major character death (past, referenced), childhood trauma

Day 23: “I’m doing this for you” (writing)

Servant whump, conditioning/training, restraints, stress position (implied, future), the mc being gay as hell

Day 24: [Alt. prompt] - Survivor’s guilt (writing)

Minor whump (young child), major character death

Day 25: Being monitored (art)

Lab whump

Day 26: Breakfast table (writing)

Angst, nonsexual nudity

Day 27: [Alt. prompt] - Vermin (art)

Angst, minor whump

Day 28: Denial (art)

Angst

Day 29: Fatigue (art)

Angst

Day 30: Holding back tears (writing)

Angst, alcohol use, drug use

Day 31: [Alt. prompt] - Finding old messages (writing)

Alcohol use, drug use

[fitz-and-simmons]

castles crumbling.

Wrote a Castlevania fic a few weeks back before I finished the series and realized I forgot to share it here!

Read it on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51484333

Description: "Sypha expected that the nomadic lifestyle of the Speakers would have prepared her to quickly move past the horrors she had witnessed at Lindenfeld. Her lifelong transience had equipped her to leave families, communities, cities behind, to preserve the histories of each place within her without ever preventing her from continuing forward. This, however, was an entirely different type of unmooring." — After the reckoning of the harvest and the atrocities that occurred in the season three finale, Sypha and Trevor decide to diverge from their path of nomadic adventures to instead return to Alucard and Dracula's castle, unprepared for what they are going to find there. Content warnings: descriptions of gore, mentions of past murder of children (regarding the Judge at the conclusion of season three), implied mentions of Alucard's assault also at the end of the third season.

Sypha expected that the nomadic lifestyle of the Speakers would have prepared her to quickly move past the horrors she had witnessed at Lindenfeld. Her lifelong transience had equipped her to leave families, communities, cities behind, to preserve the histories of each place within her without ever preventing her from continuing forward.

This, however, was an entirely different type of unmooring.

Compartmentalization was necessary for any Speaker, minds as carefully organized as a managed archive—but the seventeen pairs of small shoes haunted her, as well as the resounding finality of the joyful bound or playful skip that doomed a child to their demise…

Sypha thrashed out, her hands instinctively expanding into a magician’s protective position as she bolted upright. As her keen gaze swept the hazy horizon surrounding the covered wagon, Trevor let out a sleep-laden grumble and sat up drowsily beside her. His arms wrapped around her, and it took a few moments for her to process the embrace before she slumped against him.

“Fifth night in a row, huh?” Trevor asked, his usually gruff voice softened.

“It’s never been like this,” Sypha insisted. “And I’ve seen my share of corruption and terror and grotesque—”

“—I’m not doubting that—”

“—but I have always been able to leave it behind whenever our caravan left.” She inclined her head back to look at him with intensity. “It has never been an issue before.”

“Yes, you said that,” Trevor added before grimacing at the pointed glare she gave him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with reiterating your point, but… I don’t think this is like anything you’ve dealt with before.”

“If you’re assuming I’ve never dealt with this level of severity before—” Sypha challenged before Trevor instantly interjected.

“No, that’s definitely not what I’m trying to say.” Trevor raked a hand down his face, revealing a wrinkled brow and a downturned expression. “But when you faced that before, you had your caravan. They are your family and, in many ways, also your home.”

Sypha contemplated the implication for a moment, imagining what it would be like to rejoin her caravan, continue collecting the stories of war-torn cities on the brink of collapse, and commit them to memory—before the haunting image of those seventeen pairs of shoes violently intruded. She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not ready for that.”

Trevor considered his response. “Then what if we went back to… my home?”

“To Alucard?” He nodded, and the sharp edge in her eyes dulled. “Okay.”

The ride to Lindenfeld had been saturated with lighthearted teasing and boastful battles against unsightly but ultimately harmless creatures, back when they were still in the midst of adventures and victories. The return trek was entirely the opposite, burdened by an eerily quiet.

The path became more overgrown as they approached the abandoned convergence of the Belmont hold and Dracula’s castle. Sypha became hyperaware of the foliage folding in around them, recalling in perfect clarity the markers of the opening of their adventure…

The horses turned a bend and immediately reared, their braying verging on panic. Trevor bolted forward towards the more skittish one and began patting near the mane when he went rigid.

“Whaaaat the fuck,” he muttered as Sypha shifted her attention from the familiarity of the trees to the carnage before them.

In front of the foreboding grandiose entrance to Dracula’s castle were two bodies suspended on spikes, crimson seeping into the hems of the white coverings and pooling below.

“Alucard.” Sypha propelled herself out of the front seat of the covered wagon and darting towards the castle.

Trevor scrambled out of the wagon behind her, fumbling for the reins and assessing the surrounding area for the quickest place to tether the horses to. “Don’t you think there’s a chance he’s the one who did this?” he called after Sypha. She didn’t falter as she dashed up the stone staircase and was swallowed by the foreboding entryway.

Despite their penultimate battle against Dracula, the castle’s sprawling arrangement remained primarily a mystery to Sypha. She found herself glancing into each room she passed, imparting a brief analysis before concluding each one contained no indicators as to what transpired…

Until she stumbled upon Alucard’s childhood bedroom, a blood-splattered sheet crumpled beside a silver band. Concern flared up within her, and her hands instinctively drew into an offensive position, a spark igniting between them when—

“Careful,” a low voice murmured. “This might be the one room in this place I’d like to preserve.”

“Alucard,” Sypha breathed as she turned around. The sight before her was even more unexpected than the gruesome seen they had arrived at; inflamed wounds crept around his forearms, constricting around his biceps, and presumably winding further. She reached toward him, concern etched into her brow, as Alucard flinched away.

At that moment, Trevor clambered into the room, hands clasped around a stitch in his side. “You know I can’t keep up with you—" he started, abruptly halting as he registered the dhampir’s presence and, consequently, his appearance. “What happened to you?” he balked. “Aren’t you supposed to be some invincible beast?”

Alucard clenched his teeth around a bitter laugh. “Only to incompetent monster-hunters like yourself, Belmont.” He eyed Sypha warily as she gingerly took a half-step closer to him.

“What happened?” she asked, repeating Trevor’s sentiment more mindfully, only to be met with Alucard’s hardened stare. Before this moment, Sypha never would have described his gaze as being particularly warm, despite the gilded, molten color of his eyes—but now she felt an absence of something that had been there before.

“I think you should go.”

Sypha glanced incredulously at Trevor, who immediately began squaring up as indicative of his trademarked stubbornness. He strode forward, one hand inching toward the Morning Star whip they all knew lingered curled at his hip. “Listen, you sulky bastard, we came all this way—”

“To raid the museum dedicated to annihilating people like me? By all means.”

Trevor proceeded further, now closer to Alucard than Sypha was. “A museum bequeathed to you and your care—" Alucard seemed unbothered by this, and Sypha was finally able to identify the reason. It was not the proximity or the threat of physicality; it was the extension of tenderness.

“You’re hurt,” she persisted, one hand gingerly outstretched towards Alucard as the other waved Trevor off.

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh, come off it,” Trevor grumbled, dropping the façade of the interaction potentially ending in a brawl and extending half a step forward before considering the tension stiffening Alucard’s body and pausing. His gaze met Sypha’s, and he gave her a nearly imperceptible nod.

Sypha nudged forward, movements intentionally slow as to give Alucard as much time as necessary to reject the advancement—but he only recoils as her fingertips graze the skin beside the raw lacerations winding toward his wrist, his breath hitching. “You don’t have to tell us what happened, but at least let us take care of you.”

Alucard remained suspended as he was, transfixed by Sypha’s deep empathy and just as much distrustful of it… then he felt her hands slip from his arms to instead enfold him in an embrace, followed by Trevor doing the same, taking both Sypha and Alucard into his arms.

In that moment, Alucard’s resolve shattered, subsumed by the grief from the anguish that had been inflicted upon him.

Sypha let out a soft “oof,” as the weight of the ordeal physically bore down on Alucard and consequentially her, and Trevor readjusted his grasp on the two of them to bear the additional weight—providing them support just as he had through all the other trials they had faced together. Sypha and Trevor’s gazes connected above Alucard’s bowed head, tears glistening as they clung to his eyelashes and saturated Sypha’s cloak. There was a suspended incredulity as the minutes passed and Alucard’s infallible, ethereal embodiment gave away to something so much more human. Sypha’s own gaze became misted as her bottom lip trembled, trying to anchor herself with shaky breaths.

When the soft sobs subsided, they remained there for a while longer, clinging to each other—and then Trevor unceremoniously cleared his throat. “So… when are we going to talk about your lawn ornaments?”

[seventh-district]

and it tastes so bittersweet

“You never answered my question, you know?”

Your words are more of a gentle nudge than an accusatory statement, hoping that maybe you can coax another secret out of the crypt of a man sitting before you.

You watch a small smile surface on his features, and he bites it back before it can grow into a full-fledged embarrassed grin.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

The sincere hesitance in his voice pulls a surprised laugh out of you.

“Matthew, I already know you’re crazy.”

Your words are dripping with affection, no malice to be found behind them, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake with poorly hidden laughter.

You spend a dark evening in bed with your effectively immortal partner (in crime). The two of you open up to one another, eventually getting a taste of each other in a way that you hadn't anticipated.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - Minors DNI

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Word Count: 7,446

Content Warnings: [spoilers for The Malenkee Saga] [SH / NSSI] [blood] [blood consumption] [death] [watching someone get shot] [bleeding] [violence] [vague & foggy traumatic memories] [scars] [DIY heart transplants] [implied murder] [sensual/sexual(?) desire that is hinted at but never acted upon aside from a few little kisses] [you and Matt are both wanted criminals, mentally unwell, and so, so in love with each other <3]

There isn't any explicit sexual content in this fic, but due to its dark and graphic nature, it's still NSFW. I wrote this from the same perspective with which I watched the entire Malenkee Saga - that of an adult. I've recently become aware that some people view Malenkee/Viewer as being a child. While I don't know why, given that Matt literally confesses his romantic interest in them at one point, and Jim clearly states that his videos aren't for kids, I still feel the need to clarify this.

This fic is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

The small bead of blood trailing a thin line down along your forearm is darker than it used to be.

There’s plenty of things you’re sure you’ve forgotten in this life, numerous aspects of your past that you can no longer recall with any amount of certainty. After enough years pass, any particular memory you think back on could have just as easily been a vivid dream. But you’re quite certain that your blood used to be red.

It looked green, blue, violet even, as it coursed through your veins, thinly veiled by the skin of your wrist. But whenever that skin was opened and the liquid took the path of least resistance, flowing out in a slow, steady stream across your skin, it was always a deep, vivid red.

The liquid that’s now pooled in the crease of your elbow and is quickly congealing into a sticky, tacky puddle is solid black, though.

It’s not the lighting. Yes, the room is fairly dark, but even when you set your blade aside in favor of palming around in the sheets and find your phone, it’s flashlight shining a spotlight on your arm, it’s still black. You straighten your arm out, twisting it under the light, inspecting it with a dull sense of curiosity. This is far from the most unsettling thing you’ve ever witnessed, but still, it is a bit odd.

Why is it like that?

When you tilt your arm, you half-expect the little puddle of semi-liquid to follow gravity’s pull and slide downward, but it stays put, practically having adhered itself to your skin already. It hasn’t fully dried yet, refusing to spread out and tinge your skin a shade darker like it used to. It just clings to you, growing more viscous by the second.

After staring at your arm in dumb silence for a minute, trying to think of any reasonable explanation for this anomaly, your mind suddenly offers up an unpleasant yet helpful memory.

This is the same viscous black liquid that you watched escape from the bullet hole that one of those bastards put in Matt’s neck.

You felt it before you saw it, hot and wet, spraying across your face as your eyes snapped closed. It was the only sensation you could process aside from the deafening ring in your ears.

As the ringing faded out, it was replaced with the sound of Matt’s heartbeat growing ever weaker, ever slower. You blinked your eyes open to see him sprawled back on the floor in front of you, all but lifeless. The bottom of his mask had ridden up his neck, allowing you to clearly see the entry wound, slowly weeping a thick, black liquid.

Every following aspect of that memory remains as much of a blur to you as it felt when you experienced it firsthand.

Two pulses, yours rapid and his slowing, their alternating beats a pulsing pressure in your ears, your arms, your fingers.

The pressure on your wrists increasing exponentially before vanishing altogether as the chain holding your handcuffs together snapped, its links unable to withstand the newfound force you exerted upon them.

The floor falling away from you as your body rapidly stood, moving of its own accord, acting upon long-forgotten instincts to summon strength you didn’t know you could possess.

As the seconds passed in slow motion, you began to feel less like an onlooker and more… like a commander.

Your body the puppet, your mind the puppeteer.

Now, you’d been making attempts at reconnecting yourself with your unique set of abilities ever since Dimi had made you aware of them. You hadn’t managed to get very far with them, though. The fact that no one was entirely sure of the scope or extent of your abilities didn’t help matters either. How do you train a muscle that you can’t feel anymore?

Dimi had suspected that you may have been capable of more than just telepathy, suggesting that your mind very well might be capable of transferring more than thought. Perhaps it could transfer energy. Perhaps it could transfer force. Perhaps it could… manipulate your environment. Bend it to your will.

So, he’d worked with you to the best of his ability during the time you spent together, to try and help you find that power again. To your genuine shock, his suspicions had been correct.

Though, you never got farther than lifting so much as a paperclip by the time that he…

By the time that Matt…

By the time…

You hadn’t gotten very far with your telekinetic efforts.

For some strange reason that up until that point you had yet to understand, every subsequent encounter you had with Matt left you feeling… more like yourself. Or, maybe… more like some version of yourself that you used to be. For the life of you, you couldn’t describe why, but the more time he spent around you the more you found yourself capable of.

While you laid in the hospital recovering from your… memorable encounter with that man behind the white mask, you filled your free time with practice. Any time you were alone in your room, you’d put all of your energy and focus into lifting the heaviest objects you could see.

Anything to keep your mind off of whether or not you’d ever see Matt again.

The chair beside your bed was too heavy. As was any of the other actual furniture or equipment in the room. So you set your goal a bit lower. Working your way down from heaviest to lightest, you tried at every object in the room until you were able to move something.

You ended up spending a lot of time opening and closing drawers, as well as misplacing all manner of small objects that week, much to your nurse’s growing confusion, and Dr. Roberts’ subtle amusement.

After being released from the hospital, you were finally able to test your abilities on a wider range of objects, and from there your days consisted entirely of keeping yourself alive, honing your abilities, and finding Matt.

You hadn’t gotten much more adept by the time you found yourself in his company once again.

The events that played out that day gave you confirmation of what you’d already suspected, though.

He definitely made you stronger.

Simply being in close proximity had been enough for you to feel the effects, but you had no idea how much potential power he truly held until he literally pulled it out and handed it to you.

Looking back, you’re still not sure if it was the life he gave you or simply the traumatizing experience of having him shot point blank in front of you that spurred you on.

It was probably both.

You’re quite sure that he had no clue what he was doing when he offered you part of himself. Hell, you’re fairly certain that he doesn’t even know what he is, let alone what you are or what you’d be capable of if given access to whatever kind of power he holds.

He was genuinely just trying to give you one more chance at life.

There was no way in hell that you were just gonna take it and run. He’d saved your life, so it was only fair that you return the favor.

The two poor men they sent to execute Matt and take you in never stood a chance. Their guns flew out of their hands before they could even take proper aim at you, and the fight was over before it even began.

Bits and pieces of that day flash in your mind, blurry and out of order. You do your best to sort them.

You remember your nails tearing into skin.

You remember screaming. Begging. Prayer.

You remember muscle tearing, blood flowing, bones cracking.

You remember the weight of a human heart, cradled in your hands.

You remember the brush of your bloodied knuckles against Matt’s skin as your trembling hands lifted the tail of his shirt.

Even now, trying to parse through it all threatens to send you into another migraine, so you just let the memory settle back into the haze of your foggy mind.

The only thing that matters is that the two of you walked out of that room alive, with two hearts beating in each of your chests.

-

The bathroom door leading into your bedroom swings open slowly, allowing light and steam to flood in. The widening fraction of light spreading across your floor and the smell of soap on hot steam is enough to snap you out of your thoughts, and you realize you’re still sitting there pointing your phone’s light at your bloody wrist. You quickly turn it off, your pulse rapidly increasing at the realization that you’re about to be found out.

You snap your head around to face the motion in your periphery as Matt steps out of the bathroom, looking down as he ties a cloth rope around his waist, cinching his robe closed. As he does so, he speaks to you, meandering his way a few paces over towards the bed.

“You were right, doll! This extra robe of yours fits me quite well, don’t you think?”

His hands land on his hips as he raises his head in a proud display, gracing you with that unabashed grin of his that he has such a penchant for hiding.

This might be the first time that you regret being able to see his facial expressions, though.

You watch as his eyes dart from your face down to your lap, to the blood staining your exposed skin, to the way the light from the bathroom bounces off of the sharp, shining blade resting on your knee. You watch his expression shift from one of relaxed joy to one of panic in about two seconds flat.

He’s sat himself down on the mattress in front of you before he even speaks, his hands anxiously hovering over you, not sure what to do but needing to do something.

“Love, what happened? Why… what…”

His voice is soft and sincere when his eyes look back up and meet yours.

“Did you do this to yourself on purpose again?”

You didn’t have the decency to try and hide this from him, but you do have enough of it to at least look guilty at having been caught. Your head drops in a nod of confirmation, and you mutter a small “yeah… I’m sorry…”

You don’t see the slow shake of his head, but you hear the sadness in his voice when he speaks.

“No… no, you don’t need to be sorry, love.”

Your eyes catch the movement as his hand draws closer to your face, hesitating and hovering a few inches away.

“May I… touch you?”

You nod again slowly.

“Of course.”

You feel the pads of his fingers gently come to rest along your jaw, still soft and warm from his shower. He carefully angles your head up to face him.

“I just want to know why… Are you hurting? What’s… what’s upset you? What drove you to do this tonight?”

You close your eyes and shake your head slowly, contemplative. This side of your self injury is something you hadn’t really explained to him yet, so it’s understandable that he thinks it’s because something’s upset you.

How the fuck are you gonna explain that you were just doing it tonight because it feels good?

“I’m not upset, Matt. Honestly! I just…”

You dare to meet his gaze again and he’s still eyeing you with a level of concern that is far too sincere, far too unconditional, far too gentle.

You wouldn’t think a man that has taken as many lives as he has could ever look at you with such innocence in his eyes.

The saddest part is that you really don’t think it’s an act. He really is just… an enigma.

Well, it’s not like it’ll be the craziest thing he’s ever heard, right? Maybe… maybe he’ll understand.

“I’m not sure how I can explain this to you, honey…”

You glance away from his face, and your eyes catch on the way the sleeve of his robe has slid up his arm, exposing the skin there. Countless raised black lines litter his forearms, and you figure you’ll start out with a question for him.

“So, uhm… you’ve cut yourself many times, right?”

His eyes dart down to his exposed wrist, quickly flicking over towards yours, and then back up to meet your gaze again. He nods as he hums a questioning agreement.

“Mhm?”

“And… like we spoke about before, it’s usually because you’re trying to relieve some sort of pain that’s inside your mind, yeah?”

He nods again, brows furrowing in concern.

“Well, uhm, have you ever just… felt the urge to do it even when you weren’t in any pain? Maybe even when you felt good? Have you ever just… wanted to cut because it feels nice?”

He seems to take in your words for a moment, his gentle grip on your jaw loosening entirely as his hand lowers down to find your wrist instead. He carefully cups the back of your forearm, bringing it further up towards him to get a better look at the rapidly healing lines.

“Is that why you did this tonight? Because it feels good?”

There’s none of the mocking or confusion you feared would be in his tone.

“Yes. I just… it’s been a while since I’ve even done it, what with… everything that’s been going on lately. I’ve scarcely had the time! And- and it’s not like something happened today that upset me, I just… I don’t know. Sometimes something will happen that reminds me of how nice it feels to get hurt, and… I get that urge again.”

His fingers tap rhythmically against your skin as he hums in contemplation, eventually responding with another question.

“So… what happened? What reminded you of how good it feels?”

Oh, yeah. That’s a good question, actually.

Hah.

“Well…” you huff a small laugh at the memory.

“You remember how I was trying to cut that strip of hard plastic yesterday?”

His head nods curtly as he recalls your attempt, realization already seeming to dawn on his features before you can finish explaining.

You can’t help but smile at him a little.

Smart boy.

“And you remember how I gave up and tried snapping it in half with sheer force?”

It’s his turn to smile a bit, his lips quirking up to the side in a knowing smirk before he parts them and finishes your explanation for you.

“And it snapped, broke into several small, sharp pieces, which flew in all manner of directions.”

You nod your head in silence, letting him tell the rest of the story.

“One piece flew up and scratched you… right…”

He reaches up, carefully grazing the pad of his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“…here.”

You can’t help but sigh and lean into his gentle touch, recalling the way he worriedly sat you down on the bathroom counter yesterday afternoon. You could feel his fingers trembling, muttering about your reckless behavior as he applied ointment to the very minor wound.

“That’s all it was, honestly. That’s all it took to make me crave this feeling.”

You both glance back down at your wrist, still cradled gently in one of his strong hands. Silence lingers for a moment, and you eventually break it with a scoff.

“That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

He pulls in a deep breath, his thumb grazing over a patch of your skin littered with old white scars. His voice is oddly calm, almost… resigned when he speaks.

“…no. I don’t think it does.”

Your gaze flicks back up to meet his eyes at his unexpected acceptance.

“You don’t?”

His eyes meet yours for a moment before he slowly releases his grip on your wrist. You lower it back down to rest on your lap as his focus shifts to his own arms, rolling one sleeve up to better showcase his scars.

“I don’t. I guess… I can understand it, in a way.”

It’s only now that you realize he never answered your question earlier.

“Yeah?”

“…yeah, but… it’s not exactly the same for me.”

You wait for a moment, expecting him to elaborate, but his silence remains. You can’t imagine what could possibly be so different about it for him that has him reluctant to tell you.

“You never answered my question, you know?”

Your words are more of a gentle nudge than an accusatory statement, hoping that maybe you can coax another secret out of the crypt of a man sitting before you.

You watch a small smile surface on his features, and he bites it back before it can grow into a full-fledged embarrassed grin.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

The sincere hesitance in his voice pulls a surprised laugh out of you.

“Matthew, I already know you’re crazy.”

Your words are dripping with affection, no malice to be found behind them, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake with poorly hidden laughter.

You add onto your response with a little more reassurance.

“And I’m right there with you, you know? I’ll be impressed if you’ve got some reason for doing this that genuinely shocks me. So, just hit me with it.”

He glances up at you again, his laughter fading as he composes himself, and you still see a trace of hesitance in his gaze.

“Do you really think there’s anything I could learn about you at this point that would make me shy away from you, Matt?”

His shoulders shrug, and he mumbles his response through his teeth as they chew nervously at his bottom lip.

“…maybe?”

You reach out to grab at his hand before catching yourself, pulling back a bit.

“May I touch you?”

Consent goes both ways, after all.

He nods his head in a definitive “yes” and you take his hand in yours with all of the same gentleness that he graces you with. You idly play with his fingers a bit as you lean forward, ignoring your own injury in favor of focusing on him.

“You don’t scare me, Matt. I know you’re different. Very different. But… so am I, you know? We may be two different kinds of strange, two different kinds of crazy, but… I think we compliment each other’s differences. Uhm… besides, I think we may be more similar at this point than either of us really know.”

His expression shifts to one of confusion at that, and you’re quick to divert the topic back to his confession.

“I promise you’re not gonna freak me out, regardless of your reason for cutting. You can tell me. I want to know.”

He pulls in a deep breath, steeling himself before he speaks.

“Well… it’s true that a lot of the time I do it to… relieve the pain… inside me.”

You nod your head, silently urging him to continue.

“That’s not the only reason, though.”

One of your hands leaves his, trailing your fingertips softly down the heavily scarred skin of his inner arm.

He looks away from you when he finally says it.

“I like the way it tastes.”

Your motions come to a halt at his words, and you sit there just blinking and breathing for a moment as it sinks in. His muscles begin to tense as his fear spikes, and he’s about to apologize, get up and run out of the room in embarrassment when you finally start laughing.

He doesn’t know if he wants the floor to swallow him whole or if he wants to sit here a little longer, taking in the sound of your beautiful laughter. Even if it’s at his expense.

You crane your neck around to look up at him from where you’ve nearly doubled over yourself in your laughter, and finally speak.

“Is that all? Is that what you were so afraid to tell me, Matt?”

His confusion is written all over his features as you lean back up, one hand coming to rest on your chest as you compose yourself. The poor thing sounds so confused when he answers you.

“Uhm, yes?”

You smile, shaking your head at him fondly, as you’re quick to put his fears to rest.

“That’s nothing, sweetheart! I promise you.”

The tension in his muscles visibly relaxes, and he manages to hold your gaze as he speaks this time.

“Really? It doesn’t… turn you off?”

You watch his eyes widen at his sudden realization of what he said, and he’s quick to clarify what he meant as a furious blush dusts his cheeks.

“Not- not like that! That’s not what I- oh, bloody hell…”

You bite back your knowing grin, maybe a bit too eager to watch him fluster himself like this.

“You know what I meant, don’t you?”

You decide to relieve him of his growing embarrassment, nodding as you reassure him.

“It’s okay, love, I know what you meant. And no, it doesn’t freak me out. Nothing like that, honestly. I actually… it’s… hm.”

His brow furrows a bit as you search for the right words.

“It’s curious.”

You think for a moment, before a silly question pops up in your mind. You’re teasing him with it before you can stop yourself.

“You’re not… a vampire, are you?”

Your lighthearted tone works in accomplishing your goal of getting him to relax a bit, and you watch him laugh a little as he shakes his head in denial.

“No, I don’t think so, pumpkin. It’s… not like I crave it, and I certainly don’t need it to live, I just… enjoy it?”

You hum in acknowledgement, failing to keep your mind from offering up a mental image of him making such a discovery. You picture him cutting his skin open just to bring his wrist to his open mouth, tongue lapping at the pitch black liquid that escapes the broken skin.

The… pitch black liquid…

He watches your smile fall as you lose yourself in your thoughts, a look of intense curiosity replacing it. Your head snaps up to look at him, stating the obvious like you’ve just had a revelation.

“You have black blood.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before slowly nodding his head in agreement.

“I do.”

“Has it always been black?”

He glances away from you, his eyes landing on nothing in particular as he gazes into the distance behind you, trying to recall.

“As far back as I can remember, yes.”

You hum as you think, knowing that you likely won’t be getting any solid answers as to the man’s true origins tonight.

No matter. Even if neither of you ever manage to figure out why he is… the way he is, that’s not something you’ll lose sleep over.

Looking down at your own wrist, and the now dried blood adhered to your skin, another question comes to you.

“What does it taste like?”

He seems a bit thrown off by your shift in question, but recovers quickly enough, trying to find a way to describe it.

“It’s… uhm… hm. I don’t know! It doesn’t really taste like any food I've ever eaten, so I don’t know how to compare it.”

Well, that answer is coming from a man who’s genuine favorite food is sopping wet bread, so, you’d be taking his description with a pinch of salt anyways.

With your curiosity now peaked, and with a newfound solid excuse to indulge yourself once again, you allow your impulsive nature to take over. Quickly picking the blade up again, you bring it to the soft skin of your inner arm, near your elbow where the veins are better hidden, and make one fast, shallow swipe across. Just enough to draw blood.

Matt nearly shouts your name in horror as he reaches for your hand holding the blade, keeping a firm yet gentle hold on your wrist.

“What was that for?!”

The panic in his voice is enough to make you wince in regret, and he catches your reaction, misinterpreting it as fear. He lowers his voice significantly, doing his best to keep it level.

“I’m… I’m not mad at you. I’m not going to hurt you. I just… what was that? Why’d you do it again?”

Your eyes stay locked on the fresh cut, watching the blood slowly leak from it. You note how it moves slower than usual, far quicker to congeal and coagulate, moving more like a quick-drying glue than normal human blood.

You act quickly, before it can dry any further, bringing your arm up to your mouth and pressing your tongue flat against your skin. Dragging it upwards, you chase the short trail it made all the way back to the source, sliding the tip of your tongue across the cut a few times before pulling away.

You close your eyes, taking a moment to focus on the taste.

…

He was right. It doesn’t taste like anything you’ve had before.

If you had to compare it to something, the closest you could get would be…

“Bittersweet.”

Your eyes snap open as you utter the word, and you meet Matt’s gaze again.

You couldn’t decipher the mix of emotions currently written on his features if your life depended on it. His tone is nothing short of bewildered when he finally speaks.

“What?”

You crack a smile at him.

“It tastes bittersweet! But- you’re right. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it either.”

At an obvious loss for words, his mouth opens and closes a few times in silence, reminiscent of a fish.

Cute.

You give a light tug on the hand of yours he’s still holding, and his grip tightens slightly. You huff a small sigh, understanding his reluctance to let you go. You offer him a compromise.

“You can take the blade if you’ll give me my hand back, love.”

He reaches up with his other hand and carefully plucks the sliver of stainless steel from between your fingers, reluctantly loosening his grip on your wrist.

You shoot him a grateful smile, immediately reaching down and dipping the pad of your index finger into the little puddle of blood that’s since formed atop the cut. Pulling your hand back, you eye the way it clings to your skin before your eyes flick over to Matt, watching you with what you can only identify as horrified curiosity.

You bring your finger up towards his lips, and to your slight surprise, he doesn’t back away. Attempting to appeal to his recent confession, you offer him a soft-spoken question.

“Aren’t you curious what I taste like?”

You watch his eyes flick back and forth between yours and your blood-soaked fingertip, and you prepare yourself to pull back. You ready yourself to apologize for being so forward, and for scaring him the way that you did. As soon as you make the first move to pull away, though, he parts his lips and finally speaks.

His confession is nothing more than a soft whisper.

“Yes. Please.”

There’s an immediate shift in the air as he speaks, and you watch a sudden, desperate hunger make itself visible in his gaze. He reaches out, fingers slowly closing around your wrist once again as he brings your hand further towards him.

You watch in rapt fascination as his eyes close, he parts his lips, and the pad of your finger is gently pressed down against his waiting tongue. His lips close tightly around your fingertip, and slowly, reluctantly, he pulls your hand away.

No traces of blood remain as you glance at your finger, and you watch as he swallows, his eyes blinking back open a moment later.

You suspect that you shouldn’t feel as much pride as you do when you notice his blush having returned in full force.

Your eyebrows raise as you cock your head to the side in question.

“So? What do I taste like?”

Finding his voice, he clears his throat as his gaze wanders from your eyes, to your smile, and finally down to your blood-stained wrist.

“Better than I do, poppet…”

He can’t help himself as he reaches out a hand, moving towards your wrist before stopping and glancing up at you, wordlessly requesting your permission. You nod, a loving smile gracing your features, and in the back of his mind he wonders what he ever did right in this life to deserve someone like you.

He swipes two fingers through the small puddle of blood that’s yet to finish drying, his touch feather light and obviously trembling. Bringing his fingers back to his lips, he cleans them of your blood quickly, like a man starved.

“A damn sight better than I do, that’s certain.”

You ignore the heat you feel rising to your own cheeks, and counter his compliment with a little playful banter. Taking on a flirtatious tone, you bat your eyelashes at him and wave away his words.

“Why, Matthew, you flatter me!”

That seems to work in breaking the tension a bit, and he chuckles at your theatrics before he speaks.

“I’m serious though, doll. Your blood really does taste better than mine.”

You glance down at the dried blood and quickly healed cuts adorning your wrist, the previously open wounds now sealed off, replaced with thin black raised lines. Just like…

Just like the ones on Matt’s arms.

It’s at this moment that you realize that you never showed him the discovery you made while he was in the shower.

“You know what? That’s… actually a bit odd. I figured mine would taste pretty similar to yours…”

You trail off in thought, and Matt cuts in, his own curiosity now peaked.

“Why’s that?”

You reach out for your phone once again, turning its flashlight back on.

“Well, because… uh…”

You point the light at your wrist, clearly displaying the dried bloodstains on your skin. They’re solid black, and so are your new scars.

“It seems that my blood is black now, too.”

Matt’s eyes widen at the realization, looking back up at you in genuine confusion.

“Wait- but- why? It used to be red! I know it did! It- it got all over my hands when I was pulling all those safety pins out of you…”

You nod in agreement.

“You’re right, it was red then. But I think… something happened since then that caused my blood to take on the same properties that yours has.”

You turn the flashlight back off, placing your phone aside.

“What do you mean?”

There’s that soft, innocent tone of his again. He truly has no idea how giving you one of his literal hearts may have also passed along part of his… DNA, parasites, black magic… whatever the hell he’s got coursing through his veins.

Maybe those bullets to the head really did do a bit of damage to his cognitive skills.

Or, maybe being alive for 160-something years just begins to erode your mind at some point.

Looking up to respond to him, you let your eyes wander across Matt’s features.

His long brown hair is still messy and damp from his shower. A few shorter pieces cling to his temples, framing two small round scars from his past unfortunate run-ins with the cops. You know there’s a third one, from another, older, more… traumatizing entry wound hidden by the hair above his left ear. You felt it one night before you saw it, when you’d been carding your fingertips through his hair. As the two of you laid together, one of your nails had caught on the raised textured skin while you idly scratched them along his scalp.

You’ll never forget the way he sobbed into the sheets, holding onto you for dear life as he shakily recounted the events that gave him that specific scar.

You’d never wanted to kill someone as badly as you did that night, when Matt told you bits and pieces of what that horrible man had done to him.

Hard to kill someone that’s already dead, though.

None of the scars from his various bullet entries have a matching exit wound. So, since you can’t very well take him to a medical facility to have him studied, you really have no idea how his body handles getting shot. It could be anything from simply adapting to living with multiple bullets in his brain, to something more far-fetched like his body managing to dissolve any foreign objects that enter it, and mending itself like nothing ever happened at all.

It’s not like that’s any more far-fetched than his body’s ability to store, remove, and receive hearts like they’re some sort of accessory to be swapped out whenever the situation calls for it.

An ability that has been gifted to you as well, apparently.

Your eyes follow the trails of wet hair that cling to his neck, snaking their way down to his collarbones and disappearing beneath the plush fabric of the robe you’ve gifted him.

Reaching out, you glance at him for permission to touch, and once granted, you gently tease the ends of his hair out from beneath his robe. Laying it out across the cloth covering his shoulders, you nod in approval. That must be more comfortable than wet hair clinging to his skin.

As you move to draw your hand back, you stop as your fingertips trail over his most recent scar. Yet another black, raised circle with little tear lines running out from the center in all directions, reminiscent of a star.

A permanent reminder of the time you witnessed a man blow a bullet hole in your beloved’s neck.

You run the pad of your thumb across it, feather light, and resist the urge to lean in slowly and press your lips to the mark. Shaking yourself out of your contemplation, you struggle to remind yourself of what you were just talking to him about.

Lord, maybe he transferred some of his memory issues over to you as well.

You think hard for a moment, and it eventually comes back to you.

“Do you remember when you gave me your heart?”

You watch him blink back into the present moment himself, and can’t help but notice the way his gaze had been lingering on your lips.

“Of course I do, poppet.”

Pulling back, you allow your hand to drop from his neck, trailing downward along the curve of his shoulder and following the length of his arm until you’re once again holding his hand.

“Well, as you know… I got a whole lot stronger that day.”

He nods, smiling as he recalls the events of that day in his own mind.

His unusual reaction to the memory draws a question out of you.

“What was it about that day that’s got you smiling, huh?”

Your tone is teasing, but the question is genuine.

His answer is immediate.

“You saved me.”

Oh.

“Why wouldn’t I smile at the memory of that?”

You quickly shift yourself forward a bit on the bed, and hold your arms out in an obvious request for a hug. He happily leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face in his neck. Your voice is muffled by the fabric of his robe when you speak, but he hears you all the same.

“And I’d do it again. You know that, right?”

You feel him nod against you, as well as the vibrations that emit from him as he hums an affirmative against your shoulder.

“As many times as it takes. I’ll do it again.”

He pulls you closer, holding you a bit tighter as he breathes his response.

“I would too.”

After a long moment just spent holding him, you pull back, still needing to finish your explanation. You stay close to him though, and lace the fingers of your hands together as you speak.

“Well, I think you gave me more than just your heart that day. I think along with it, I also gained your regenerative abilities, and as a byproduct of that- your black blood.”

He lets out a little contemplative “huh” as his mind connects the dots you laid out before him, and he smiles again.

“That’s a good thing, then, isn’t it? I mean, it’ll just help keep you safer if anything… bad… happens to you in the future!”

His ever-positive outlook shines through in his response, and for once, you fully agree with him. This is a good thing.

“You’re right! I think this is really good. Although, hopefully I won’t have to actually fall back on it, but it’s a good thing to have. I mean… it’s not like I plan on either of us running out into the face of danger any time soon. I think we’ve had about enough unfortunate confrontations for a while, don’t you?”

He nods emphatically, his smile fading to a small frown as he sighs, recalling everything the two of you have been through together.

“I agree, doll. All I’ve wanted to do is go home with you from the first time I met you, and now that we’re finally here… I don’t really want to leave.”

He follows his words with a hint of embarrassed laughter, as if there’s anything else you’d rather be doing either.

“Matthew, you know I’d happily lay in this bed with you until the sun burns out.”

He fixes you with a strange, worried look.

“When’s that gonna happen?”

It takes everything you’ve got not to laugh at the sincere worry in his voice. You try to keep a straight face when you answer him, and you feel yourself failing. So instead, you lean forward, planting your forehead into the soft cloth covering his chest in the way a cat headbutts their owner in a show of affection.

“Oh, you sweet thing. Don’t you worry about it, I was just joking.”

If the two of you somehow manage to still be alive when that star eventually dies… well, you’ll just have to burn that bridge when you get to it.

He seems satisfied with your answer, and brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head as you lean into him.

As you sit there for a moment, breathing in the scent of his soap mixed with the detergent you washed his robe in, your mind wanders to yet another unanswered question.

Pulling back, you look up into his eyes as you tell him.

“I still don’t know what your blood tastes like.”

He huffs a small laugh.

“I mean… like I said, doll, I can’t really describe it.”

He thinks for a moment, continuing.

“Besides, I really don’t think it’s as good as yours. Yours is… sweeter, I guess.”

Well now you’re more curious than ever.

“Well I think mine tastes kinda bitter, so… maybe it’s a thing where you like mine better but I prefer yours?”

He hums as he mulls the suggestion over, shrugging.

“Maybe!”

You nearly shove your face back into his chest at the realization that he isn’t gonna get the hint if you keep approaching it like this. You love him to death, but this fool couldn’t catch a hint if it hit him in the hands.

“Do you… think there’s any way that… maybe… I could taste yours sometime?”

You give him your best puppy-dog eyes, pushing aside the embarrassment you feel for requesting something so… intimate… from him.

You watch the realization dawn on his features, and you await his answer with baited breath.

“Oh! You really want to taste mine?”

You nod your head eagerly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Well, I mean- of course you can! You can have some right now if you want it!”

You watch him lean back from you a bit, re-rolling his sleeve from where it’d fallen back down to cover his arm. You try to not be shocked at his eagerness and willingness to give you what you request. He’d probably cut off his whole arm and give it to you if you asked him for it. Especially if he thought it’d do anything to make up for the whole finger-removal scenario.

His willingness is a gift, and you swear to yourself that you’ll never abuse it.

You watch him reach over to where he’d placed the blade, noticeably out of your reach, and as he picks it up you suddenly remember your manners.

“T-thank you, Matt. You don’t have to do this for me.”

He smiles at you fondly.

“No need to thank me, doll. I’m more than happy to satisfy my poppet’s curiosity.”

He continues talking as he brings the blade to his wrist.

“Besides, I’m a bit curious myself…”

He quickly makes a small, shallow cut, mirroring the way you made yours, and you watch the blood rise to the surface of his skin. He places the blade aside once again, and immediately reaches out a finger, dipping it in his blood and offering it up towards your waiting lips.

Now that the shoe’s on the other foot, you fully understand why he turned red as a tomato when you did this for him.

It’s terribly intimate.

Taking the tip of his finger between your lips, your eyes close and you lose all focus as the taste of him hits your tongue.

This is genuinely the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life. Holy shit. If yours tasted anything close to this good to him, then you need to applaud his restraint, because good god do you wanna latch onto his arm and drain him dry.

You refrain though, allowing him to take his hand back. When you open your eyes again, he’s eyeing you with hesitance.

“Is it okay? I mean- like I said- I don’t think it’s nearly as good as yours-”

You accidentally cut him off in your eagerness to assure him that it’s incredible.

“Are you joking? You taste amazing, Matt!”

That familiar heat rises to his cheeks as you unabashedly compliment him.

“Way better than mine, honestly.”

His response sounds unconvinced.

“Really?”

You reach out a hand towards the half-healed cut on his wrist, asking him the same silent question that he asked you. He nods, and you swipe two fingers through the remaining blood, bringing it to your lips and savoring the saccharine taste of him.

After another brief moment of losing yourself in the experience, you bring your attention back to Matt. You catch the way he must have been staring at you the whole time, and you give him a warm smile, leaning forward once more to ghost a kiss across the warm skin of his left cheek.

“Thank you.”

He flushes even darker than he already was at your combined proximity and display of affection, and he stutters out a blissed-out, lovestruck response.

“O-of course, doll. Any- ahaha… anytime…”

Your own smile can’t help but grow as you admire him, with his half-lidded gaze locked on your lips. You’d almost go so far as to venture a guess that the act of consuming each other’s blood imparts a slight sedative effect, given the way you feel and the way he looks.

Glancing back down to his wrist, you watch the cut finish closing up, now fully replaced with another little black line. With any lingering hesitancy having flown out the window by now, you bend down, placing a tiny little kiss over the freshly-healed cut. You revel in the way you hear his breath hitch as you do so.

Looking back towards Matt, you blink sleepily up at him.

“You ready for bed, love?”

He subtly nods in enraptured agreement, and the both of you move to rearrange yourselves on the bed. You settle into your respective positions, with you on his left and him on your right.

Draping the sheets over both of your bodies, you pull him close to you, and breathe deep as you feel him fully relax in your arms. You gently rest your head on his chest, and reach down, searching for his hand to hold. Tangling your bodies together, you begin to take notice of the quiet beat of your hearts, gradually falling into sync with one another.

As your eyes close, you feel his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead, followed by his soft voice, whispering quietly into the night.

“G’night, poppet. I love you.”

You smile in your half-asleep state, mumbling your response as you softly squeeze his hand.

“Love you more, Matt.”

A/N: If you'd like to read my thoughts in regards to the process of writing this fic, as well as the musical inspiration behind it, you can find all of that over here, in the end-notes on Ao3! Header Image Sources: x - x - x Lastly, of course, here's the link to The Malenkee Saga, and here's a link to Matt's videos if you're just looking for him.

[purple-ravaged]

Hi! I just watched your "It's been so long" animation!

I wanted to share a short opinion about it, because I love it and i was rewatching it this whole day every time I got a free moment of piece.

1. It's so good. And your choice of the song AND this exact part of the song is 🎂🍻💐

2. I LOVE the way Red Hood smiles at the very end just before the explosion (the blinking scene with Bruce Wayne's hand trying to reach Jason in present and in the past).

3. Is the soundtrack at the end (when the song part ended) from UtRH movie or just similar "sounds of tossing around some wood or something" to imitate?

4. Here's also a different batman animation video but with the whole song. A very different tone, too, in my opinion (and different part of the story; great nonetheless, of course).

As someone who's not very familiar with FNAF I like your video a bit more, because to me, it implies Batman seeing Red Hood as the abomination that he has to put down but can't because he:

"Your sweet little eyes, your little smile is all I remember,

Those fuzzy memories mess with my temper."

and because I'm listening this song for the first time (English is not native language and I've never ever interacted with FNAF fandom), from the short piece you used in your video I thought the song was about a parent whose child became a murderer/monster and something very bad happened that either killed the son later or killed the son in his parent's eyes. So, to simplify, I'd say I thought the motive was "my son is a monster and I can't fight him or truly hate him because I still think of the past, so I'm grieving his past self" or something similar.

So when I've listened to the whole song (including the mention of the real villain: "man behind the slaughter") and read the story behind this song a bit, I realised it's still very fitting, just very, very differently from the separated part you used.

5. So I guess I just wanted to say thank you for using this exact part, it helped me to formulate my old dusty feelings from Under the Red Hood comic arc into words in my head. Bro, so cool. Great animation!!!

lmao I spent so much time trying to find the exact audio you used instead of the original song or some wrong cover.

Hopefully Tumblr won't eat my ask haha. Happened before.

HI!!! thank you so much for this feedback i’ll try to respond to it the best i can haha! that animation has always been my precious little baby i’m so crazy proud of it.

the song isn’t a cover or anything but a slowed down version of the original! i chose to only use that specific verse because it just fits jason and bruce so perfectly. a HUGE part of both the comic and the movie is that while bruce does mourn the death of jason and what he has become, he doesn’t let that get in the way of the fact that the red hood goes against everything he stands for as batman. the fact that the red hood is jason “doesn’t change anything at all.”

and it is SO cool to me how you interpreted the song differently because of the way i used it! it would make sense for joker to be “the man behind the slaughter” but i didn’t want the animation to be about him at all but about jason and bruce. i find red hood to be just as interesting (maybe more interesting) as joker when it comes to villains batman has to defeat!! because red hood challenges batman’s ideals down to the very core and it’s just so so cool. your interpretation of my animation is completely right! it isn’t about batman vs joker but bruce vs the red hood. and when i say bruce vs the red hood i mean physically but also intrinsically

and the sound at the end of the video was taken directly from the movie! it’s the explosion that plays when the warehouse exploded at the beginning of the movie (what killed jason) the wood sound you hear is pieces of the shed falling to the ground. i also used audio at the end of the movie when jason says “this is the best day of my life” after the lyrics “those fuzzy memories mess with my temper”

TYSM FOR THIS RESPONSE!! i plan on doing future jason todd animations/animatics to add to my collection.. possibly something with the song 10 feet tall by cavetown?? or look what you made me do by taylor swift?? it’s a work in progress haha

[angst-king]

A man by many names Pt 8

(Cw implied stalking, branding, description of PSTD like symptoms/panic attack, & gore)) The news was all over them, they couldn’t escape it now. And Dabi had left his mark, ensuring they had targets on their backs. Many wondered why the sudden attack on them and their home. Some tried to dismiss it as Dabi just causing chaos as usual, he never truly had a set target audience and was just seen as a chaos creator and peace disrupter. He decided to be distinct about it this time, leaving a mark that couldn’t be ignored.

“I know what you did” was burned into their skins. He made sure others would eye them with suspicion, he made sure those burns would not be easy to hide or cover-up. When they scarred over from rapid healing you would still be able to know what it says. Whispers and murmuring haunted them every time they walked past them. When they got to their hero agency they would see it had been vandalized and littered with dismembered limbs and entrails of organs. A note had been left for them.

‘Hello Switch and Charge, I hope you’re having a wonderful day. How are those burns, they look horrible! Though I’m sure they are, maybe now you’re starting to feel an ounce or more of the fear and pain you put (Y/n) through. Maybe not, but by the end of this I will make sure you certainly do. Try as you may I will not allow you to perform as if you were and are loving parents who tragically lost their child. Cause I know you aren’t, I know you two are the sick fucks who put their baby through hell and have the audacity to blame the child. I know you sit around acting like this publicity of their disappearance is a burden, however. I will teach you the real meaning of ‘burden’, I will teach you what fear truly feels like. I will make you live through what you put (y/n) through, and so much more. So go ahead, cry to the news, cry to the cameras about how much you miss your poor baby, and pray for their return night and day. Go ahead.’ Charge grumbled and shredded up the letter threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

“Stupid fucking brat of a villain thinking they can scare me. Like I’m ever gonna be scared of some fucking twerp. Putting up another villain to do his dirty work.” He rolled his eyes and went into the lounge to grab a drink but the fridge was beaten and battered, beer bottles and glass scattered about in a mess. Charge growled in frustration and kicked the appliance.

It was a late chilly night and Deku was back to upping his kill count. Stocking up on ‘food’ and taking out anyone who thought had to go. He had decided to take a small break on the sidewalk, it was a seemingly peaceful night. The only problem was the heroes, his murder sprees and targeting of certain pro heroes have put the other agencies on high alert. Which meant more heroes were patrolling the area. So he’d have to watch his back-

“HEY!” Shit. Izuku froze, he recognized that voice, no matter how long it had been or how old they got. He always recognized that voice. That grough, gravely, growling voice belonged to one explosive blond. In a flash Dynamite stood right in front of him. And Izuku’s hands were covered in blood, not exactly innocent looking.

“The hell are you doing out here covered in blood?!” Izuku tried to run but his shoulder was quickly grabbed in a burning death grip. Heat radiating and scorching through his clothes, the heat grew stronger and stronger as the hero demanded answers from him. Izuku’s heart was racing, pounding against his chest, as he looked up wide eyedly at him. He yelped and howled in pain as memories flashed through his mind. Memories he thought he had buried deep underground, memories he wished were never there.

Katsuki yanked his mask and hood off of him and stopped.

“Deku?” Deku then began to scream for help, screaming at the top of his lungs ragging through his throat as he squirmed and fought to get away. Fighting and clawing through memories that threatened to pull him under like rough seas of the ocean. He remembered middle school, he remembered always walking and gearing up to be thrown into the wall. Grabbed and yanked around, kicked and beaten. How their dirty sneakers jammed their way into his rib and face when they got him on the ground. How he scurried like a bug trying to avoid being crushed beneath them. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, and cried for mercy, he would be ignored and forced to take it. Not anymore No! Not anymore! Not ever again!

In one swift motion, he got Katsuki’s wrist in the perfect position for him to open his mouth as wide as possible and come snapping down. Crunching down on flesh, muscles, nerves, tendons, and bones. It wasn’t enough to take the hero’s hand off even when he shook his head like a dog, his teeth tearing and shredding through it. It was enough for Katsuki to let go and scream. Deku released with enough time to drive his heel into Katsuki’s sternum and run like a bat out of hell. Katsuki tried to chase after him but by the time his senses had come back to him he had no idea on what direction the other ran in. He did ask around for the others to keep a lookout, but so far there were no sightings.

Meanwhile, Izuku was running like his life depended on it, even if no one was chasing him, his adrenaline was taking over. His need to be safe was taking control, all he wanted was to get home. He didn’t even care to use the doors this time, he jumped through his window as soon as he got it open. What he had forgotten in his trauma-addled mind was that you were sleeping in his bed that night. He was curled up on the floor, his breathing ragged and shallow, coughing and choking for air as tears rained down his face like a storm. His entire body trembled as he pushed his head between his knees. He could still hear the explosions from the blasts Katsuki would send at him, how they’d shake the space around him, and rattle his bones. How they’d make his ears ring and bleed for minutes or hours at a time. He could still remember the words Katsuki spat at him venomously over the years consuming his mind. Nails digging and clawing through his clothes and into his skin drawing blood.

“Dadda?” You called out confusedly as you woke up to the sound of Izuku’s panicking. You turned on the light and saw him on the floor. He was crying, you could see he was upset, but you didn’t know why. You saw the way he clawed at himself hopped off the bed and padded over to him.

“Dadda stop you’re hurting yourself.” You could only grab one of his hands they were much bigger than your own, pulling them away from him. You felt him shake under your touch as he screamed and begged for help. You had never seen him like this before but he had seen you like this and you remembered what he would do for you. You went back to the bed and grabbed one of the blankets dragged it over to him and placed it over top of him. Then you hugged him as tightly as you could while calling to him.

“Dadda! Dadda look at me!” It took a few tries before he looked up at you eyes glowing a bright red. They looked so scared, so hurt.

“It's gonna be okay Dadda, please don’t cry. I got you” You gently patted his head and felt his arms wrap around you. He still cried but he was starting to take deep breathes now. You didn’t care how sleepy you were you wanted to make sure Izuku was okay. He held onto you like how you held onto your stuffed animals. You didn’t dare move, not out of fear but out of concern. You had never seen Izuku like this and didn’t like it, it was frightening to see someone so strong act like this but. You didn’t hate it, you just didn’t like that he was so hurt.

Once he quieted down he apologized wearily and let you go. However, you stayed beside him and asked what happened. Izuku shuddered at the memory of what transpired and said.

“I saw someone who used to hurt me, and they hurt me again.” You frowned, you didn’t want your Dadda getting hurt. Then you asked.

“Will you be okay?” He nodded and slowly got up, brushing his hair back and wincing at his injuries both self and externally inflicted.

“Yeah, just gonna bandage myself up.” He croaked out as he wiped the tears that still ran down his cheeks. God, he hated how fragile he just looked, how he looked like a frail deer in headlights back in the alleyway. Made his stomach churn the more he thought about it. He slinked into the bathroom grabbed the first aid kit and started cleaning up the blood on his hands and the still bleeding cuts along his biceps. You followed him into the bathroom as he went through gauze and towels to clean up the blood.

Then he moved onto the burn on his shoulder, thankfully it wasn’t too bad, something easy to look after. Still had the villain biting into a towel to muffle his screams. His other shoulder had the same branded handprint of his bully though it had been done in their middle school years. There were more on his torso from early elementary up to the start of high school.

“Did they hurt you a lot?” You asked out of the blue, Izuku sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, a lot of people used to hurt me a lot.” “Like how mommy and daddy hurt me?” Then it truly hit Izuku why he was so protective of you, why he was so drawn to keep you safe. Sure he would never hurt an innocent child, but he was going above and beyond what he would do for just anyone hell even himself! It was because you reminded him of himself. Your circumstances weren’t carbon copies but they were similar enough for his mind to want to do any and everything it could….He wanted to give you the justice no one would have ever given him.

“Yeah…just like them, but…My mom was nice, a little too nice but, she loved me….Everyone else, not so much.” He replied as he washed Katsuki’s blood from his mouth.

“What was your mommy like?” “My mom? She was kind the kindest woman I’ve ever met, she would give the world to anyone. She was-she was the best, he may not have been able to keep people from hurting me but. She kept me going.” A small shaky smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Just thinking about her was bittersweet. He remembered the nights she would hold him in her arms, consoling him the best he could after she’d find him a mess on the floor in tears. How she would still praise him for his efforts in anything he did, and how she said.

“I don’t care what your quirk is, or how you have to handle it. I don’t care if you become a hero or not, or how old you get. Just promise me, you will not lose yourself.” It took a long time for Izuku to understand what she meant by that but, looking into your big eyes that looked up at him in admiration, he could say he hadn’t lost himself.

Once he had gotten himself all fixed up and popped in an Advil, he changed into comfortable clothes and crawled back into bed with you. You needed sleep and so did he. When he laid down you snuggled up to him again as usual but this time said something that made his heart melt.

“You’re really brave, Dadda, but I’ll still protect you.”

(change in pov)

“Yo Katsuki, you alright?” “Yeah, I’m fucking fine, round face, why you askin’?” “Because you’ve been real spacy all day, and don’t say ‘its nothing’ cause I can see it on your face. Something’s on your mind.” Ochako said as she plopped down on the couch beside him, Katsuki rolled his eyes and groaned. Head dropping into his hands with a look of frustration, he knew damn well Ochako wasn’t gonna let him off the hook.

“It about that person you saw last night?” “Yeah, it is.” “They an old friend of yours?” “I wouldn’t say, friend, at least not anymore.” There was a moment of silence before Katsuki sat up and looked around before he finally spoke up.

“When I was younger we used to be childhood friends but that quickly turned to shit when at first I was told he was quirkless, then we found out what his real quirk was. I didn’t handle either information very well, and I made it very clear….for years.” “What did you do to him?” Ochako asked tilting her head confusedly, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad.

“I bullied him -more like abused honestly- for years upon years, I’m talking late elementary all the way up till the start of high school. I don’t even know why I did it, but it was a lot. He even attempted to kill himself because of it….That didn’t stop me though. I won’t give you too many details but quirk usage was my main way of doing it.” The brunette’s eyes widened when she put two and two together, she knew Katsuki’s quirk could hurt someone seriously, and the fact it was regularly used to hurt someone made her blood turn cold. She imagined what sort of damage he had left and the picture wasn’t pretty.

“And believe me that shit haunts me now, as I got older I’ve grown to realize the shit I did was horrible but. I never got the chance to apologize. He stopped coming around during my first year of high school, I hadn’t seen him since. Then there was last night. I know it was him, I know those green eyes and freckles anywhere.” He picked at the bandages wrapped around his arm, his face scrunched at the sour memories and pain in his wrist.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him again, I really didn’t.” His voice trailed off, his eyes clouded by sadness.

[lampmanliveblogs]

Perhaps one of the more insidious and disturbing aspects of the children 's trip through Philip's mind palace is that, though his attacks on them at the end have the connotations of them being 'punished' for looking where they weren't supposed to, everything they learned about was Philip's fault. Not only did his inner self meet them before they ever penetrated his inner layers, and thus could have lead them away from the incriminating memories, but he actively lead them to memories that showcased his true vile nature, demonstrating the lengths he's willing to go to to 'protect humanity', and his inner self giving a gleeful child's laugh over the memory of those witches freezing to death shows he not only had no shame about his deeds, he's actively proud of them, seeing them as 'victories against evil' and something to be celebrated.

Him confronting both Hunter and luz with the awful truths of the past and what their connection to him really is can be seen as a necessary test of character for both of them. If Hunter is willing to unquestionably supporting still even after all this, then he really is the 'better version ' of Wittebro he's been seeking, and he won't have to kill him. Likewise, as luz is another genuine human from earth and aided him once before, he talks to her with unabashed honesty for his usual manner, being blunt and forthright with everything he's really about and his intentions towards the boiling isles, save the truth about who Wittebro was and what he meant to him - that bit of personal history is one he's literally committed lifetimes to erasing in favour of what he wants the truth to be. If luz is willing to support his plans as a fellow human, then he can spare her too - and he really does believe that she'd support him because they're the same species alone together in a world of 'monsters'. In some twisted way, Philip wants to brag about his murders of witches and be accepted because of that, not rejected like any same person would.

Alternatively, another warped perspective is that, just like his brother, his 'better than you' mentality means he needs to have a reason to kill them, something that he can use to justify it to himself as 'regrettable, but necessary '. He jumps way too quickly towards trying to kill Hunter for his 'disobedience', to the point of it implying that part of him has given up on the idea of a grimwalker ever truely joining him, but keeps the process going out of sheer stubbornness and an inability to ever accept he could be wrong. The manner of death he chose for the youngest grimwalker is even a cruel inversion of the birth of a grimwalker, furthering the collector's assertion that he enjoys killing them and recreates his brothers brother's image to keep relishing his enjoyment of that moment.

Luz meanwhile, has actively interfered with his plans before and made it clear she refuses to willingly aid him as belos, which grates against his control tendencies and desire to 'control' how humans interact with the inhabitants of the demon realm, aka, not at all. By confirming that she's already met his past self, she confirms the time loop is closed, and thus he no longer needs to hold back against her or her allies anymore. All it takes is her rejecting him again, and this time, he tries to do what he would have done to luz in the conformatorium the first time around if she didn't have that protection against his direct retribution.

Either way, Philip lead those children deeper into his mind and showed them his secrets, fully confident they'd never tell a soul about it one way or another, once their usefulness was served.

In Follies at the Coven Day Parade, Belos, through Terra, told Luz that he looked forward to meeting her. I believe that I speculated that he wanted to meet her for real, not as Emperor Belos, but as who he was behind that mask: Philip Wittebane.

With Elsewhere and Elsewhen confirming that Belos was Philip and that Luz (and also Lilith) met him during their time travel excursion, and Hollow Mind confirming that he knew about the time shenanigans, it could be seen more as a "Good luck on your trip through time."

But I still think that maybe Belos looked forward to meeting Luz again. Not just to confirm that she had completed the time loop and so he could eliminate her and the Owl House crew if need be. But also to, as you say, see if she may be willing to join his holy mission.

Of course, Luz, being closer in mindset to Wittebro (including getting herself an awesome witch girlfriend), does not join in on the crusade.

If you really think about it, Belos sensed a literal invasion of his mind and said "I can work with this." Not only did he use the kids to distract the palisman beast long enough to finally kill it and gain control of his transformations, but he also confirmed Hunter would no longer be loyal to him and nearly killed him.. and he confirmed that Luz the Human would not be joining him, and nearly had her killed as well. Sure, he only succeeded with one out of those three things, but still. Turning an invasion of your own mind to your advantage is impressive.

[superultratinymode]

About the state of America… I’ve been thinking about some things from my past. This will not be easy to read, and I don’t really know how to trigger tag this besides mentioning that this is about abortion and women’s healthcare, why conservatives oppose it, and the deaths that follow. There is one line that alludes to rape culture (I’m bad at formatting on tumblr because I’ve never written a lot here before so this may look like shit.)

I’m a white person from a red state. Naturally, I was taught everything there was to know about hating literally everyone (except white men)

That means I was conditioned to hate women, as a young girl myself. Honestly, there’s few things worse than being brainwashed as a girl by misogynistic women.

And this leads to my households opinions on being pro-life. Yeah I was pro-life once, unfortunately, even though personally I’ve always thought pregnancy is the most horrifying thing ever. (I still do. That’s why I’m scared, lately, in terms of myself. The line between paranoia and reality is getting kind of thin)

I had to listen to these peoples takes on why fetuses deserved life more than women with families do. And I had to eat it up if I wanted to make it to heaven.

My stepmom got kind of weird with it. She was watching a video of fetal development in the womb, and compared it to “a little dolphin” and was smitten by.. the weird ass sounds it emitted in the video? I think about that a lot, lately, because that is like the most unhinged shit I’ve had to see. That’s not a fucking baby, man, that’s cells. Every time I think about this nowadays, it disgusts me so badly.

At some point I developed the mentality, “Of course a woman should give her life for her child. She got to live her life already, and the child didn’t. She shouldn’t be selfish.”

Which is like a freaking insane thing to think. I was never taught to show compassion towards a woman. If she chose to have sex, then she deserved the punishment is what I was taught. She should have dressed modestly.

But women should not HAVE to cut their lives SHORT. Pregnancy shouldn’t have to be the end of a woman’s life. Because doesn’t that just imply that that’s her duty? To have children, to be subservient for as long as she can after that if she even gets the chance, and then to fucking die?

But it was framed as the right thing for a woman to do. Be a hero, save the child above all else.

I heard a story. I don’t even remember if it was true or if it was a hypothetical. I don’t remember much anymore so I’m sorry, but I do remember how much this story was glorified in my house at the time.

My stepmom said that there was this one woman who was carrying a baby that would not survive. Apparently this woman was told to abort the baby by many people, because the baby would just suffer for the few minutes it would have to live.

But it’s the woman’s choice, ultimately. I am pro-choice now, I should mention.

And what did she choose? Not to abort. Which is fine, because it was her decision.

But I remember how they treated the birth of this baby like such a glorious thing. How she gave birth to it because it was the morally righteous thing to do, and it just… died. This apparently made god happier than the alternative, which was… honestly very similar in outcome?

Then why is birthing a baby that will die such a glorified thing? Maybe because if she chose to abort it, it would have been a woman’s choice. Which is suddenly murder.

Why is the now-legalized medical malpractice that allows women to die not considered murder?

Idk im just thinking a lot right now. I was going somewhere when I started writing this, but my foggy memory just threw me off my tracks. But the moral of the story is that conservatives are everywhere and also freaking religiously blinded to the point to where their agendas do not have consequences on real people. They do what they do to go to heaven and get rewarded in gods eyes for their “good behavior” and their “saving other people from sin”, which is actually just forced subjugation and conversion of non-christian people

[guardianspirits13]

Okay so with everything going on right now and all the exciting new information, there is one thing I see being overlooked a lot, and that is something I want to talk about: Natsuo Todoroki.

In almost every scene he appears in during the manga, he mentions Touya, and I really want to try to imagine the sort of effect this new information will have on him.

Natsuo and Touya have a clearly established relationship as kids, and while Fuyumi says they played together a lot, in one translation of a the scene in 253 Natsuo says that Touya used to tell him everything, implying that they also talked openly about what Endeavor was doing to their family and how they felt about it.

Natsuo was entirely ignored by Endeavor as a kid to the point where his existence was hardly acknowledged, and with information from the new light novel we know that Rei hardly took care of him either after Shouto was born. Natsuo would have been about four, not nearly old enough to do things on his own and was likely raised mostly by his older siblings.

Now imagine what it was like for Natsuo when Touya died. He would have been 10 at the most, and however Touya died (and I say died because it was considered a hard fact to the Todoroki family for almost a decade) and wether or not he witnessed it does not change the fact that it has been one of the most traumatic, defining events of his life so far. Not only was he still very much a child, Touya was likely his best friend and the single person he could rely on. Touya and Natsuo helped each other through the trauma they were both experiencing, so I can’t even imagine how devastating it would have been for Natsuo to lose his sole support system so suddenly without any grief counseling in sight.

If you think about it even now, at the core Dabi and Natsuo share strikingly similar viewpoints on hero society as a whole, and they both despise Endeavor for the same reasons. They also both seem to be very emotionally driven and have internalized their feelings that show only under stressful circumstances.

I am going to attribute the different outcomes in who they are now to Natsuo still having a stable home and Fuyumi to help him cope, and whatever happened to Touya he was almost definitely homeless and alone so it was easy for him to fall in with a group of loveable societal rejects (although I very much want to know exactly what he did for the years between ‘dying’ and joining the league).

So now finally, I will try my best to predict how Natsuo might react to the information that his brother is alive, especially assuming he finds out through the same video that Rei does. Horikoshi went out of his way to establish a relationship between the two, so either way it will definitely be heartbreaking.

First off is knowing that Touya is alive. Even with that information alone and nothing about Dabi himself, it would not explicitly be joyful. A huge part of who Natsuo has become is because of how his past-e.g. losing Touya- has shaped him. A significant example being that in the new light novel we learn that he wanted to be in the medical field to help people in situations like his mother ‘whose hearts have been hurt’. I think before any sort of positive emotion this information will definitely rattle him to the core, as it has Shouto and Endeavor. This is not just about Touya being alive, but it’s about how much of Natsuo’s life has been shaped by his death. I’d imagine under normal circumstances some form of joy or excitement would set in after the initial shock, but judging by the content of the video I can’t imagine that.

And finally we get to Touya’s status as a criminal, terrorist, and his admission to murdering over 30 people. I’m going to re-iterate what I said before, that Natsuo obviously looked up to his brother, and the image of teenaged Touya that he has been imagining and hearing in his head for the past decade is so drastically different from who he is now. **Now we have no reference point for how Touya was as a kid, wether or not he exhibited early antisocial tendencies or wether he was as kind and protective as the fandom seems to think of him. My point still stands that Natsuo looked up to him as a kid and immortalized him in his memory, so the cognitive dissonance between the Touya he knew and the Touya that we see now will also be destructive.

**Another side note, I wrote this before I saw the translation that Touya considered kiling Shouto while they were kids, which is certainly chilling and adds a whole nother level to this mess, so take that as you will

I honestly have no idea how he will react based on this last point.

One one hand, Natsuo is known for his brutal honesty in expressing how he feels, and this could be no different. There is definitely the possibility that he could blame Touya for abandoning them and betraying them, along with the horror of knowing how many people he murdered.

There is also a much different response to anticipate, mainly because Natsuo is also a very sympathetic person with a particular soft spot for his older brother, and may choose to view him as more as a victim.

Horikoshi is an incredible writer and is very capable of portraying subtle and complex emotions in his characters, and he is also well known for uncanny parallels and coming full circle in his writing, so I have theorized for a while now that the sibling’s responses to Touya’s return might be opposite to their willingness to forgive Endeavor, based mostly on their relationships with both of them. I think it would be poetic if Natsuo (who again is very emotionally driven) would have an initial response of just wanting to reunite with his brother and willing to overlook his transgressions in the moment, Shouto would still walk a middle line of being very conflicted and unsure, and if Fuyumi would blame him the most, for abandoning her and inadvertently leaving her to sacrifice most of her childhood and getting a higher education to look after the house and her younger brothers, as that had been a shared responsibility previously.

If you made it this far in the post, thank you so much for reading! Most of this is just speculation, but it’s been on my mind for a while so with the final reveal out of the way I have long been prepared to rant about the significance of Touya in Natsuo’s life and how his return would affect him. I’d love if you’s be willing to share your thoughts on all this before the next chapter.

Peace!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.