#oh the darkfics that live in my head

[ltleflrt]

can i ask - what are you thoughts on the current anti-shipping phenomenon in fandom? I've recently gotten into SPN fandom and fallen in love with your fics, but the state of the fandom puzzles me a bit.

Anti-shipping is not a SPN fandom phenomenon, and maybe it seems to be a bigger deal to you because it's a bigger fandom? Wincest and Destiel shippers have been at war since episode 04x01 aired lol...we even have derogatory names for each other: Wincels and Hellers.

(Jokes on the Wincels, because Heller is a fucking awesome name.)

(Wincestiel shippers are fandom unicorns, and they deserve love and respect.)

I've only been involved in fandom since 2011, so most of what I know about anti-shippers comes from piles and piles of posts talking about fandom history, but the gist of it is that this is not current, it is ongoing since the dawn of fandoms, we just have names for it now. Think about Spirk back in the 60s...there were lots of rabid fangirls who saw nothing romantic between them too. We just don't hear as much about them, because they lost their fandom war lol

It's just really loud right now with the rise of conservatism, fascism, and terfs. And social media amplifies all of the above.

Anyway, my thoughts on anti-shippers is that they need to grow up and mind their own business. I am a pro-shipper, which means I believe that anyone has the right to love any ship, no matter how problematic, no matter how much it squicks me out. I believe everyone should be allowed to read whatever vile smut they want, because thought crimes are not real.

Unless a real person is being hurt, have fun.

Antis claim that problematic ships and kinks hurt people, but I think it's important to understand that there's a big difference between accidental and deliberate harm. And harm mitigation is highly important in a world with 7+ billion people and 7+ billion different lived experiences.

If an anti-shipper is hurt by a ship they don't like, they need to learn how to block and filter content so they don't see it, and on the opposite side of that, the vile shippers/kinksters need to tag their nonsense so that they're not accidentally burning someone's eyes out. Which most people ARE kind enough to do. They sit around in their little ficcing circles and cackle over the evil things they're putting their blorbos through, and they put up warning signs, but the antis come barging in to bug them anyway.

In my opinion, many antis are big fucking bullies and do a lot more harm than they claim to try and prevent, and they can all go fuck themselves with something hard and sandpapery.

So uh... yeah, that's how I feel about it 😁

(okay actually I'm not done, there's a lot of anti-shipping discourse about age gaps and what counts as incest that are just... really fucking stupid, and I honestly believe that shit started out because people were grasping for straws to justify why their ship is better than the ship they don't like. unfortunately, the youngins have been soaking up that moral purity language as Objective Truth because they're little sponges. i hope they outgrow that bullshit eventually. i will forgive and forget if they leave behind their purity police badges.)

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

You've always been my favorite

Yandere!Jonathan Levy x f!reader

Cw/triggers: Stalking, possessive behavior, darkfic, Jonathan masturbates to porn, twisted thoughts, some dub-con/non-con thoughts on Jonathan's side, yandere themes.

A/n: I'm sorry for potentially traumatizing you.

Summary: Jonathan is your new professor. But he had his eyes on you for a long time.

After your professor has quit, a new one, Jonathan Levy was quick in replacement.

You knew Jonathan Levy. He was the one jumping in if some of your other professors were sick. Though you didn't think much of him, he on the other hand quickly began to like you a little too much, even for his own good. He became a bit attached to you to say the least.

Jonathan was the professor teaching most things, so he was the one you did see mostly during class.

"I hope you all are prepared for out big exam coming up in one hour." Jonathan said shortly after entering the room, not bothering to look if anyone is missing, placing his bag down beside his desk.

After he sat comfortable in his seat, adjusting his glasses, Jonathan looked around the class.

Two people were missing, but one of them called in sick, the other one still missing were you.

Just as Jonathan thought about the possibilities of what could be, the door opened and you stumbled in with a thermos in hand.

"You're late..." he said with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Sorry," you replied bluntly, "I've overslept a bit."

After you were back in your seat, Jonathan cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows on the desk.

"Alright everybody, get comfy, get your books out if you haven't already and get prepared. I'll give you one hour."

Jonathan watched the class, his eyes however were fixed on you as he nonchalantly opened his book then started reading himself.

Throughout the hour, Jonathan threw occasional glances towards you, he liked seeing you concentrate, but even more when you pay attention to him.

When the time finally came to hand out his exams, he made sure you were the last one to receive it only so he could say good luck while being close to you without making himself look suspicious, especially not towards you.

Jonathan wondered how you were doing but had no doubt in your knowledge. He knew you could do well, and if not, he was there to help you.

After the exam was done and everyone handed them back to Jonathan, he overheard you and a friend talking about staying late for study in the library after class, his ears perked up and he had to stop himself from smiling.

When the class ended, Jonathan packed his things. He knew the library would ultimately close in 3 hours, and you would likely stay until the end. So he made his way into his office, open his laptop and just browse around. He even stalked your social media accounts.

Jonathan took his time to start correcting some of the exams, until he finally got everything together to make a leave but not before passing the library just as you and that one friend walked out.

Lucky for him, you two parted ways. Jonathan usually isn't one for stalking, but you were an exception for him. Though he already had an excuse made up in his mind if you did actually catch him.

While you walked, you were completely oblivious on Jonathan walking behind you at a good distance. He kept his head low and his hands in his pockets. Sure he knew where you lived but he wanted to make sure you'd arrive there safely. It would be a shame if something would happen to you.

By the time you arrived home, Jonathan thought about how he could rig your exam, just so he could see you more whether it would be some actual private tutoring or maybe after class, preferably alone. Oh how he would love that.

But he was a fair man, and wouldn't normally want to... abuse his job for... personal needs. But Jonathan was ready for a few exceptions.

Jonathan was ready to leave and call it a day, but not before looking back at your house, examining it from afar.

He didn't know much about break ins, but he could watch some tutorials online on how to do it professional. With a quick go to the darknet, he would surely find something...

As Jonathan arrived back home, he decided to correct those exams first so the boring part would be out of the way. He wasn't tired, if anything, he felt kind of energized.

Jonathan reviewed your exam at last, only so he could write down where you need most help and where you'd be okay. After the correcting was done, Jonathan went to his computer, firstly visiting his go-to porn site after a long and mostly boring day. But you weren't part of the boring part, you were always the highlight.

After browsing though cheap scripted and bad acting ones, he finally found a good looking one for a quick stress relief.

Unzipping his pants, he pulled his semi-hard cock out, working himself up with slow strokes while watching the video.

As the pleasure built up, he couldn't help but let his mind wander off to you, how you're always pay attention to him, not questioning his authority as your professor while also being his good student.

He stroked faster, spreading the leaking precum around the tip and shaft while tightening his fist. Jonathan knew he could just easily bend you over his desk and have his way with you however he pleased.

His thoughts even went as far as bending you over his knees and spanking you then fucking you stupid on his desk as punishment.

Regardless of what his mind came up with, it always ended up fucking you. Imagining things such as having you suck him off while he's in the middle of class, or eating you out while you're reading a goddamn book.

Closing his eyes and leaning back, listening to the moans of that girl in the video, imagining how this would be you moaning when he's having you. And he will have you one day.

As badly as Jonathan wanted to hold his impending orgasm back, thinking about all the nasty things he wanted to do to you he couldn't resist chasing his peak.

"Fuck, how good it would feel to have you wrapped around me," he squeezed his cock again "whether you like it or not."

Jonathan's breathing hitched before becoming heavier.

"Mmm, but I'm certain you would love getting fucked by me, even if you wouldn't admit it, baby."

With one last stroke he came hard, spilling his cum on the ground. He threw his head back against the chair, his cock softening in the grip of his fist.

After he was done, he shut down his computer, grabbed a wet rag and cleaned his cum off the ground before he went to bed.

The next day, his day passed quickly, mainly because most of his attention was drawn to you. You looked so happy with the results of your exam. You deserved it, being the good student that you are and the cherry on top, even unknown to you, being his favorite.

Jonathan had approached you, asking if you could stay for a couple minutes after class for a quick discussion about the results of your recent exam.

After everyone was out of the room, Jonathan leaned against the desk and crossed his arms while you were still sitting at your place.

"So," he started, uncrossing his arms to walk over to you, leaning down with his hands on the edges of your desk. "You did good mostly. But in order to pass this good, you have to be good in any of these, not just one. They all count."

You nodded. "I understand."

"And I'm not doing this to torture you, I hope you know that. I just want what's best for you." Jonathan said in a lower and slightly huskier tone, looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

He pushed himself off of your table, moving back to lean against his with his arms crossed again. "What I'm trying to say here is that I'm willing to help you."

"I know. But I hate asking people to throw their time away because of me. I will study more from now on, I promise." you replied.

Jonathan smiled. "That's good to hear." he knew you would try giving your best, but what kind of professor would he be if he wouldn't offer his help to his student?

"Well, you can go now, I'd hate to take your precious freetime away."

You gave a gentle smile, grabbing your bag and stood up. "Thanks Mr. Levy, have a good day." you said before making your leave.

After you've left, Jonathan let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

Back at his home, Jonathan had atleast half his mind being busy on you. He couldn't help it, why was he even acting like that? He didn't know either, but does he want to stop? Absolutely not.

Jonathan was even at the point where he didn't care about good senses anymore, that's how far he'd go for you.

What he did next was wait for nighttime to come, then he went out going to your house. Breaking into your home was relatively easy, but he still hoped you would be in deep slumber already.

It didn't take him long to find your bedroom, he sneaked into your room like a cat, already loving how he could just sneak in without you noticing anything.

He had to stop himself from wanting to search through some of your belongings, feeling way more bold now that he was in your house.

Of course his eyes were trained on you, he didn't want you to wake up and alert the whole neighborhood with your screaming.

Jonathan crouched down at your bedside, simply admiring your peaceful, unaware and beautiful sleeping face.

He reached out, pulling your covers off just a tiny bit, revealing more of you. Leaning in, he closed his eyes, enjoying the smell of everything you had on you. His fingertips glid carefully along the curve of your neck.

Jonathan felt so at peace with finally being so close to you, albeit if you're sleeping.

"It won't take long until you're mine, sweetheart."

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

Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@krakenkitty @mooksmouse @klillaah @faretheeoscar @alexxavicry

Wanna get tagged?

[ofallthingsnasty]

oh no law is about to make me so much insecure oh god 😭😭 this fucker, he better think im the cutest and hottest thing alive and is horny 24/7 because of me 🙄🙄

That's the trick, that's how they get you 😭😂 But seriously, I had my thoughts about him being a doctor and crazy about someone fat, too, and that's what my brain cooked up for me. I like the psychological aspect of that kind of darkfic, especially because I have lived through that sort of fat-shaming. It made me feel extremely needy, insecure and so small... "Perfect" for when you don't ever want the other party to leave you.

In reality, he'll just park his head on your belly after an especially taxing day to get some rest while the only thing you can do is pout above him. And I wouldn't worry too much about him being a doctor and seeing someone fat. Do you know how many of the general meds smoked in my uni? More than half 😂 Hypocrites, the lot of them ansjjsjs

[dark--whisperings]

💖✨Fic Rec Friday✨💖

Hello all, back with another Fic Rec Friday or... which fics have been living rent free in Jazz's head this week.

This week is a tad different, since I've been reading a lot less and focusing on my writing and editing projects. And because the fic I'm rec'ing happens to be one of the beta projects I'm working on at the moment... but who cares. What are social media platforms for if not for hyping up your friends kickass projects?!?!?!

—

the dream is over

Authors: boguspreston & innominatta (ineptia) (@boguspreston & @innominatta)

Rating: Explicit (mind the fic tags, this one do be dark!!!)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary:

There can only be two Jedi at a time, though there is no such limitation on the Sith. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Sith recruiter, a siren, who looks for Force sensitives to tempt to the way of the Sith. Anakin Skywalker was a slave until he was bought and freed by Cliegg Lars, where he had a happy adolescence. When his mother dies, he experiences a surge of the Force which alerts the Sith recruiter, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who sets his sights on him to tempt to the Dark Side. Or, sex, drugs and rock'n'roll in a galaxy far far away...

Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51330652/chapters/129701257

—

So to start, it's wildly fucking obvious how much love, blood, sweat, and tears has been put into this fic. Yes, they only have three chapters posted, but the entire fic is written and they are posting weekly, so you'll have something to look forward to! Even though I'm beta'ing this project for them, I'm absolutely not biased when I say that this is a fantastic fic, a super unique and intriguing concept, and has a nail-biter of a plotline. And yes, I've read the entire fic AND YOU'RE IN FOR A WHILE FUCKING RIDE FRIENDS. Yes, it is a dark fic (so mind those tags!), but it's got everything I ever wanted in a darkfic (sex, drugs, rock and roll, and oh so much grit). And also... peep that eventual happy ending tag. 👀👀👀 Even besides the content, the style of these two writers meshes SO WELL together.

1000000/10 recommend reading and following if this these themes are your cup of tea. You absolutely wont regret!

[starboundanon]

Herbie! I don’t know what I haven’t thought of this sooner but here it is!

Vader hasn’t had physical contact with anyone outside of violence for 20 years, that’s canon.

Given that Anakin was relatively a physically affectionate person, I can’t imagine how torturous it is to be separated by other people by a mobile life support suit.

So here comes ‘sunshine boy sonboy baby boy’ Luke, and Vaderkin is like ‘it’s free real-estate’ cause we all know this asshole doesn’t understand boundaries.

Another thing, parents are told that skin to skin contact with a baby strengthens the bond they have with the baby.

Wanna take a guess about what Vaderkin does when he finally has Luke.

Stripped out of his rebel pilot suit and Vader of his, and can only bite back cries and single with struggle as Vader takes his sweet time enjoying the warmth of another’s skin and mapping his sons physicality and features and presses their foreheads together and gives Luke kisses all over his face.

anon you fucking sniped my ass. you got a sniper's spree. omg

tw: darkfic, nonsexual / nonromantic vaderluke, nc touching, somno

His shallow, ragged breaths are drowned out by the frantic beating of his heart.

It is a marvel to have this moment. He knows they cannot stay here long; his meditation chamber is designed for him and him alone, and eventually, the strain of its life support system will begin to make Luke ill. The boy's slow breaths gently ghost over scarred skin, head tipped against his father's shoulder, placid and peaceful.

Oh, how quickly that would change if Luke were to wake. Vader settles more comfortably into his chair, watching the wide breadth of his durasteel hand trail over his son's exposed stomach, up his chest, to the narrow swell of his shoulder. How he wishes he could feel it with his own hands, and not a prosthetic. The loss is vicious, unmerciful. What he wouldn't give to have held his son like this as a babe.

But all is not lost. No, as much as he despises his reliance on it, his life support pod does allow him to experience many things he never believed he would. Maskless, suitless, he was able to gaze upon the sleeping face of his son with his very own eyes, committing each color, each feature, each perfect characteristic to memory, mapping the unexplored wildland of his only living flesh and blood.

He can't feel the expansive softness of Luke's skin with his own hands, but stripped bare of his suit — and Luke, of his filthy, swamp-soaked Rebel fatigues — he achieves the next best thing. His skin is scarred and tough and yet painfully sensitive, so removed from human touch, white light danced across his vision like fireworks when he first held the boy to his chest.

Luke's is the opposite. His skin is warm and wonderfully soft, a healthy golden brown, unblemished, unharmed. He holds the boy flush against him and revels in the pain and pleasure of it, the knife-sharp stab to his nervous system, hypersensitive, biting; the immediate balm Luke's gentle touch provides, soothing the ache as quickly as he caused it.

Vader sighs, as heavily as his meditation chamber will allow, and basks.

He is grateful to have this much. But greed and hunger fester beneath the layers of scars encasing him, like magma bubbling within a planet's outer crust. Even now, it is not enough. He wishes desperately that this chamber was intended for sleeping, and not meditating; that it featured a bed, one big enough for the two of them, so he could hold Luke and see his face at the same time.

Alterations can always be made to this one, he supposes. Or perhaps he can build a replica, large enough to house a two-person cot. Either way, the desire gnaws at him with blunt teeth. What he wouldn't give to cover this warm body with his own, freed from the prison of his suit, scarred to sunkissed skin.

What he wouldn't do to feel it on his face, that irreplaceable human touch.

But wishing is fruitless. For now, there is nothing he can do but adjust his chair to lean back as far as it will go, jostling the boy in his arms slightly as he reclines. Luke makes a discontented sound, brows furrowing as he fights to waken. Vader is quick to cup the side of his face with one hand, pushing him back under with the Force, firm and gentle, until his features soften once again and he rests, unbothered and unaware.

Satisfied, Vader lays as horizontal as his chamber will allow, his son draped across his chest, and presses a gentle kiss to the mop of golden hair tickling his bare throat. Just a little longer. He knows, inevitably, this respite must end. But he is willing to let his life support system momentarily choke the breath from Luke's undamaged lungs if it means they can stay like this, human, living, together, just a little longer.

[fractualized]

Got tagged by the fabulous @distort-opia​! Picking a fifth fave fic was hard, but here's what I landed on:

- On the Mend (Free John Doe Part 1, rated Teen and Up) - Backstitch (Free John Doe Part 2, rated Explicit) I hadn't written fic for 5 years when I played Enemy Within. I started a one-shot when Episode 4 came out, but when Episode 5 emotionally crushed me, it got me thinking about the kind of life John could have had if he stayed within the bounds of the law, if he had the opportunity to actually learn how he wanted to live his life and to have Bruce be a part of it. I pictured John being the lead of a colorful variety show in some run-down club and finally getting a kiss from his beloved buddy. And I could have done it as an AU where Enemy Within didn't happen, or a flash-forward set years later, but I felt so attached to John as he is that I *really, really* wanted that scene to happen in canon, and I wanted it to feel plausible and earned. So over the next 2 years I wrote 212k words. I still need to finish editing it, but I'm pretty proud I saw it through. :)

- Another Version of the Truth (rated Teen and Up) AVotT was a way for me to skip to Bruce and John being cute as hell while plodding through OtM and Backstitch, and I'll admit I'm sometimes a little :\ that it's more popular than those two. But I get it! It's got the Pact acting more like a semi-functional family, it's got Bruce freely being fluffy as heck with John, it's got loads of silliness— uh, until it doesn't. Oh ho, it's all fun and games until the author's angst instincts kick in!

- Give and Take (rated Explicit) I'd written comicsy batjokes darkfic before and was looking for a regular old batjokes idea to take hold, and suddenly a Discord conversation about financial domination kink turned into a speedrun of classic batjokes tropes (and not so much findom). Each plot point flowed so easily into another that I cranked this out in a couple weeks. Why can't that happen more often? x_x

- A Man Possessed (rated Explicit) This is one where I happily flash-forwarded to a postcanon John who managed to get re-released from Arkham because handwavey flibbaflabbum. The idea sprouted from another Discord conversation about incorporating lexjokes into the Telltale universe, and in my head it went from jokey flirting to full relationship drama. John doesn't cheat, but he sure came close with the chemistry he turned out to have with Telltale Luthor and how much fun I was having cutting Bruce down a peg. And then there's rough semi-public make-up sex! (though I sometimes still think about a sexy angsty cheating dramafest don't judge me)

As for my WIP list... oh boy. I haven't posted links to my own darkfic (noncon, etc) on here, and none made the above list, but hey, I’ll discuss the Bad Times WIPs if anyone wants to hear about them. Although picking them out is like half lottery since the word "dark" is missing from most of them. The silliest sounding one is probably the worst!

Even after some curation, the list is still way too long.

I'll just be tagging @fordarkisthesuede​ and @mystrothedefender​, if they want to join in, but anyone else who'd like to should feel free!

[harryspet]

For your holiday darkfics, I'd like to request an angel reader/demon Steve, with "Your soul is mine", "Oh, did someone get lonely?", and "Remind me why I can't kill the carolers?" -🐇

your soul is mine | steve rogers 

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, demon!steve x angel!reader, noncon, kidnapping

a/n: this was a lot of fun, i hope you enjoy!

In which you’re an angel and a demon named Steve Rogers owns your soul. 

word count: 1.6k 

taglist: @buckysbunny @cherienymphe @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose

A darkness wrapped around you, invading your dream state. You went from imagining a shining sun over a meadow, running with your brothers and sisters to a setting sun and scorched earth. Your eyes snapped open and you found your captor looking at you from across the room. 

“Oh, did someone get lonely?” Steve noticed how you were curled up in your bed, hugging a book and pillow tightly. You sat up quickly, pushing the book to the side and your hair from your face, “You could hold me at night if you wished.”

You had to admit that the body that Steve was inhabiting was quite handsome. He probably chose someone strong and handsome, knowing how far it would get him in the real world. Still, the blonde hair didn’t quite match those black eyes. 

“I’d never be able to sleep with you so close to me,” You said, distaste in your tone, “And you’d probably be miserable showing any ounce of affection.”

Steve smirked, “Who said anything about affection? I imagine sinful things when I think of lying next to you, darling. Rough …. cruel, ungodly things. Your devout leader wouldn’t let you back into his gates after what I’d do to you-”

You looked away, “Stop it, please. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I know, I know, I won’t get a rise out of you. I’ve been torturing angels for two hundred years and I’ve never made one raise their voice. Even if I’m sawing off their little wings, they won’t say a cruel word towards me … it’s quite infuriating.”

You couldn’t help but imagine that pain, like your soul being torn from your body. 

“If I’m no different than the rest then I’m not sure why you keep me around,” Unexpectedly, you saw his smirk falter. He’d been stoic for your entire kidnapping but your words had struck a chord in his empty heart. 

“Your soul is mine,” He said, “And, sadly, that’s worth quite a lot so I have to get a good use out of you. Speaking of, get up and get dinner ready.”

He snapped his finger and the chain connected to the bed frame detached from the collar around your neck. The sigil engraved into the metal was a kind of angel trap which kept you tethered to the house and your powers at bay. You frowned, “You said you’d give me a break for the Holidays.”

“You know better to trust a Demon, I shouldn’t have to explain that,” Steve spoke, sound amused, “And I’ve decided that I want to get into the holiday spirit and it’s in your best interest to be merry and jolly just like me. Up, up, up.”

You stood up from the bed, your white dress falling down to your ankles, and you made your way past him. He followed you down the hallway and to the stairs. The home was old and gothic, decked out in antiques. As you made your way down the stairs, you realized why he was following. 

The house was decorated in red and green, fairy lights, and even a Christmas tree, “So? Do you feel like a human again?”

You didn’t answer immediately as you admired everything. It reminded you of a time that was very far away, “It’s beautiful,” He sensed your hesitance as you worried this was all an elaborate trick, “Why?”

Steve shrugged, “I wanted to see what the excitement was all about.”

“And do you feel it? The holiday spirit?”

He smiled, ignoring your question “I feel like I could go for a delicious Christmas Eve dinner. Get to work.”

+

You were intently listening to the cascade of angelic of voices coming from outside the door. Looking out the living room, you saw them walking along the sidewalk and singing The Little Drummer Boy. 

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” Steve asked from his chair as he stared down the burning fire. You’d finish dinner moments ago and had resigned to the living room.

“Just let one beautiful thing exist, please,” You looked at them longingly, wishing you could feel the snow, and sing the lord’s praises. Surprisingly, Steve didn’t immediately respond. A while passed and the voices of the carolers faded away and so did your peace. 

He snapped his fingers and you were out of your trance. You turned to face him, his hellish eyes burning holes into your skin, “Let’s play a game, angel,” He smiled. 

“A game?” At first, your thoughts were innocent. You imagined a board game or cards but those thoughts didn’t last long, “I’d rather not.”

“I’m sure you’d rather keep your wings as well.”

You crossed your arms, “Fine.”

“Good girl,” He smirked, “How about a simple game of Truth or Dare?”

“... Do I get to ask you questions too?” Steve’s eyes narrowed at you, “It’s only fair.”

“Right, it’s only fair. Come, sit,” He beckoned you over and you assumed he wanted you to sit on the couch but he stopped you, “No, here, on your knees.”

You paused, trying to swallow your fear. You stepped in front of him before moving down to your knees. You imagined that he wanted to maintain your power imbalance. He couldn’t have you feeling any sort of pride when you asked him truth or dare. 

“Truth or Dare, angel?” He asked, leaning forward, his eyes on your collar. 

“Truth,” You answered, looking up at him.

“Are you waiting for a particular, little boy angel or girl angel to come and save you?”

You tried to hide the emotion in your eyes, “No … not one that you haven’t already killed.” You couldn’t look at his smile without tears brimming in your eyes. He opened his mouth, probably to say something hurtful but you interrupted, “Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” 

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

He hesitated which you hadn’t expected. Demons weren’t known for having feelings, Satan had tortured it out of all of them, but you thought you saw a glimpse of something in his eyes, “I enjoy watching you break every day. Usually, I get quite bored of angels after a while. Not you.”

“But-”

“Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“You can’t say Truth twice.”

“I’ve never heard of such a rule.”

“I just made it up,” Steve grinned, “Now, what’s a good dare for an angel? I dare you to … kiss me.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “No, please, anything else.”

Your words angered him, “You could kiss something else of mine-”

“Steve…” You tried to plead with your big doe eyes, “I know you think I’m different than the others … I’m not.”

He leaned forward, his hand grabbing your face, and you shut your eyes tightly, “You are. I can see something you cannot,” Warmth spread through your body and you felt waves of darkness and violent pictures in your mind, “Kiss me. I won’t ask again.”

Shaking, you leaned forward, your eyes blinking open. Steve had closed his eyes, waiting for your lips to touch his. His fingers touched your neck and hair. Your lips were soft against his, despite how stiff you were from the nervousness. Steve stroked your cheek with his thumb as he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

He heard you whimper and his anger began to grow. The kiss deepened, and Steve got more rough as he explored your mouth. You grabbed his arm, trying to pull away, and Steve felt the light inside you only for a moment before it was stomped out. 

When you roughly pulled away, Steve knew he’d sunk his talons into you. Your eyes were dark, the light fading away, as you were overcome with emotions. You fell back on your elbows, breathing heavily, before you wiped your mouth, “What … what did you do?”

“You don’t know what happens when you kiss a demon?” Steve turned his head, looking down at you curiously. 

You scrambled away, getting to your feet, though you felt a bit lightheaded, “Y-You took my light …,” You breathed out, “No more games. Stay … please don’t touch me.”

Steve stood up, his shadow draping over you, and you stepped back, “I didn’t take it,” Steve chuckled, “I destroyed it, darling. You’ve been here in purgatory for months, you’re incredibly weak, and you won’t survive with all that good inside you. You need me.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I’d rather keep you around,” You turned to run but he grabbed you by your upper arm, pulling you into him, “Destroying that purity… fucking that darkness into you, that’s what I want.”

That winter night, Steve held you down in front of the burning fireplace. He tasted you in unthinkable ways, giving you a pleasure you’d never experienced, dipping his fingers inside of you. It hurt and you screamed but that feeling didn’t last long. He took his time making sure you were a moaning mess and, by the time, he entered you, you were a wet chasm wanting to be filled. 

He’d thrust into you deeply and watch how your eyes grew darker and darker. You tried holding onto whatever good things you could and, because it was your nature, you still wished for him to be saved. 

Your body was still writhing when he collapsed beside you. You had nothing left to say, feeling great shame for letting a demon pleasure you. “You’ll thank me later … for helping you.” Still, he carried you up to bed that night, leaving so you could sleep without the nightmares his touch would bring. 

Before you closed your eyes, you realized he hadn’t connected the chain on your collar to the bed. Though a dark cloud now surrounded your heart, you thought that maybe some of your light had sunk into him. 

[madaboutmunson]

People = Shit (Part 10 of 11 of Let Me Call You Sweetheart)

Warnings for the entire story not just this chapter: Darkfic, out of character Eddie Munson, alternative universe, present day, Death, abuse (emotional, mental and physical, harassment, violence, torture, imprisonment, coersion, unrequited love, drugs, alcohol, illness, blood, gore, food disorder, mental illness, vampirism, hypnotism, weirdness, the upside down, bats, monsters

@munchabunch

You watch the coffee pot gurgle away as you say across the table from Eddie, avoiding his eyes. You'd been putting up a good fight all night, but you weren't sure how much you had left.

You break the silence, "Do you think they'll let me play tomorrow?"

"I think they'd be a sorry lot of dumbasses if they didn't", he answers.

"I just want to play, you know? Nothing comes close to that feeling on stage, not a thing I've experienced in my whole life."

"Look, even if this time isn't your time, there will be other chances. It's not like the planets have to align. You actually have talent. I know you think it's just the guitar, but it's not. She lets you play like that, but she doesn't make you play like that," He says, leaning forward across the table towards you.

You get up quickly from your seat to get the coffee, anything to create distance between you both. You pour two cups and set them in the middle of the table, too afraid to place the cup near him.

He pulls the cup towards him. You roll your eyes at yourself. You forgot the sugar and cream. You reach over the sink to get it when you hear Eddie shout, "Enough!"

You turn towards his voice, but he moves impossibly fast towards you, his face inches from yours. His hands grip the counter top either side of you.

Through clenched teeth, he says, "I need you to relax."

"Jesus, Eddie! I'm calm ok" you say, looking at his face.

His eyes are trained on your neck, "No, you aren't", he says, biting his lips. You hear the countertop beside you crunch under his hand, "I really can't emphasise enough how much you need to relax right now because I am seconds away from draining the ever-living essence out of you" a droplet of blood runs down the side of his bottom lip.

You close your eyes quickly, think of playing the guitar in your closet, and take deep breaths. You were still afraid, but you manage to slow your heartbeat a little.

His eyes soften, and he lets go of the counter and moves back to his seat. You grab your coffee and chuck it down the sink.

You grab a saucepan, fill it with milk and malt powder, and heat it up on the stove.

You dare not look at him through fear of setting yourself off again.

"So...that explains...some things," you try to joke a little, pouring yourself a hot malt drink.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he says, almost annoyed.

"Would you rather I stayed over here, or may I sit back down?" You ask.

"You can sit," he says

You sit in your chair and take a sip of your drink, looking at the table, "At least I feel slightly less insane about the whole guitar thing now", you laugh.

"How are you like this?" He laughs.

"Dude. I have felt insane all week, and this made me feel normal, like, oh, Vampire, that makes sense. It's the first thing that made sense this time!" You smile at him.

"And you can just accept that?" Eddie says, tilting his head at you.

"Seriously, I threw someone across a room with the power of the guitar, which by the way was talking to me, in my head,  and is like obsessed with you....like, ending people obsessed. I think processing that a person I only see at night, who threatened to, and I quote, 'Drain me' and who can be entirely hypnotic, is a vampire is much easier to accept."

He leans back in his chair and gives a huge grin, exposing his fangs to your unashamedly for the first time.

"Well...I am flattered," he says, laughing.

"Ok, good, maybe you can tell me what the fuck is happening because I am losing my mind."

"Well-" He starts. Only to be interrupted by a knocking at the door.

You sit still in silence until you start hearing a dull thud against the door every few seconds, and you get up to answer it before someone breaks your door in two.

"Hey, please stop. I'm here." You say, putting the door chain across and opening up the door a little bit.

You are met with the sweaty face of Mr Harrington and a little wave from Dustin Henderson, "Is he here?" They say in unison.

You look over at where Eddie was, but he's gone.

"He's gone now," you say, unchaining the door.

Mr Harrington starts shouting into the air, "If you're still here, Eddie, we just want to talk"

"How desperate are you for these reshoots, exactly? " You ask, folding your arms.

"It's pretty urgent," Dustin says, pulling back a curtain sharply to see if Eddie is behind it.

"Now you've invited him in, you should probably come back to mine for safety", Mr Harrington reasons, still searching around.

"No, I'm good, thanks, Mr Harrington," you say kindly.

Dustin rounds on you, "You aren't afraid of Eddie?"

You look confused, "No...well...you know what, no. I have been alone with him often. I don't have many reasons to be afraid of him" this was a half-truth. Being pinned up against the counter had been scary, but now you know his truth. He could have literally killed you at any point but didn't.

"You've been *alone* with him", Mr Harrington panics.

"Oh geez, not like that," you say, disgusted.

Mr Harrington breathes a sigh of relief with his hand on his chest.

"But I mean, who could blame someone if they did, right?" You say a little too thoughtfully.

Mr Harrington shrugs a little, nodding, and Dustin shakes his head at you both.

You look over them both a bit more closely now. They are armed with wooden stakes, crossbows, and daggers.

"What the actual fuck?" You exclaim, "Are you trying to kill him??!"

They both freeze until Mr Harrington speaks, "He is not your friend." He says seriously, searching around the house.

"Ok, well, I'd prefer my home did not become a murder scene, ok? If I ever see him again, I'll ask him to call you. Unless, of course, this isn't about the game at all?" You eye them suspiciously.

Mr Harrington goes to say something, but Dustin stops him, "We just want to talk to him."

You narrow your eyes at them both. Something wasn't right here. Eddie had no reason to hide from them, and yet he did.

"Well, if he turns up again, I'll be sure to let you know" this time, it is actually a lie, and they know it, "I suggest you leave my house before I have to call someone to remove you."

Dustin looks at you like you are insane. Mr Harrington is still shouting into the air, "Eddie...we just want to talk...please...whatever you've got planned...just...we're sorry, ok?"

The sorry hangs in the air, and you feel your lip curl into a sneer.

"I think you should both leave." You say more sternly, your hand inching towards your guitar case.

"Steve...STEVE!!!" Dustin yells, walking backwards away from you.

Mr Harrington eventually diverts his attention from the air to you. He looks between you and the guitar case. You narrow your eyes at him and flick open a clasp.

As Mr Harrington goes to charge forward, Dustin grabs him and starts pulling him towards the door, "They're a lost cause", he looks to you as he shoves Mr Harrington out of the door, "We're leaving, ok" he puts his free hand in the air like he's surrendering.

You let them leave.

You run over to the door, put on all the locks, and barricade the door, moving around the house and ensuring all windows and doors are secured. Finally, you settle in the living room, your guitar case open next to you.

"Eddie?" You call out gently, the guitar strings hum, and a mist crawls along the floor to the armchair opposite, and slowly his form appears.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why did you run?" You ask with genuine concern.

He steeples his fingers, "They won't allow me to explain, or at least won't try to understand, that all of this is a means to an end."

Eddie tells you what happened in 1986 "I couldn't go home, and they couldn't stay where I was. At first, they tried to split their time, but soon they had other responsibilities. As they got older, I stayed the same. As they had families, I stayed the same. As they betrayed me and left me to rot!! I. stayed. The. same." He emphasises each of those last words.

"But with time on my hands, I found I could do more than I realised. The first clue was the guitar, which initially they had been kind enough to leave me. But, if I played it right with all my might, I could see glimmers of the past or the future."

"I was foolish enough to tell them about my discoveries, intentions, and hopes that I could change my fate. They warned me about what could happen, but I just wanted to have my life back, grow old with them, but they refused."

His face looks furious, but his eyes swim with agonising pain.

"So they stole her from me. Hid her away in a vault, where no one could touch her. Then I had to wait. I waited so very long...years...decades. Wasting away. Feeding on wasteland creatures... Until she tempted someone to play her again. Oh, and when I heard her sing my name, I was home." He closes his eyes, and a tear escapes, but his face is pure ecstasy.

He leans forward in his seat, hunched over enthusiastically, "But one day, something weird happened. Someone called me. Some hippy dippy seance shit around Hawkins, and it thinned the veil. So I gave them a show. You know the whole lights flickering thing, spelling out their names, rookie shit. So more people came, and I gave them more theatrics each time the veil thinned. Once it was thin enough in that place, I eventually learned how to pass through the barrier without them. "

"It took me a year to track down both guitars, with the help of some people on this side of things. Minions, if you will. They wanted to be turned, and sure, I promised them I would, but I had no intention of doing it. Humans will do the wildest things if you can give them what they crave." He shakes his head and laughs. "I knew in my cold, dead heart that if it was possible to change my fate, I could change the fate of all of what happened in Hawkins."

He looks over at your open guitar case and looks back at you

"I couldn't get hold of the one in the vault, but I could get the veil thin enough there to pass through whenever I wanted, but to not sound the alarm, I had to leave her there in that...that...prison" his fists clench.

"It was the same story with the other guitar, I could do things, but there was not enough power. I dragged many a famous guitarist to their demise so we could play in unison, and though the power was there, the connection was not. I needed a soul match, one the guitars would respond to like they respond to me. Which I found completely by accident about two years ago."

"Two kids, desperate for love and stardom. All they needed was someone to pave the path for them to walk. Though one was more of a confident walker than the other." He gives you a wry smile

Your jaw drops a little, "Terry and Harley..." You say in a whisper. He nods.

"I gave them the objects of their affection. Jenna was easy. She was free to go wherever. But, for you, I had to lay a complex set-up. An affordable guitar, a job position suddenly opening up, but we got you there " he smiles proudly.

"Thankfully, due to toxic masculinity, Terry had a lot of wrestling with his feelings, or even, you know, expressing them. Which gave me time to get to know you. I saw how you lived. I saw your passions, your failings, your joy, your tears, your heart and soul. I saw it all, and I never once interfered."

"I'd obviously heard about the carnival, and for shits and giggles, I thought I'd scare the living hell out of Steve and Dustin by putting her in the window across the road."

He reaches over and takes your hand, "But then you saw her because she called you over, and the rest is history."

"I hide from them because they don't believe in me and would rather end me than take a chance on a different life."

"How do you know it will work?" You say curiously.

"Because we already did a test, remember?" He says, looking into your eyes.

"My nightmare? The guy with the spear. That was you before this. In the past?"

He nods and smiles happily, "We saved him," he says, gripping your hand between his.

"And I think we can do it for all of Hawkins. We just need enough power" he looks awkwardly at the floor.

"But the power isn't generated by the music alone?" You venture.

He shakes his head, "It isn't enough"

You nod, understanding, "The bat cull, right?"

"Right," he says

"Except the bats are too small fry to undo everything," you say nervously.

He takes your chin on his index finger and lifts it up, so you look at him again. "I'm not asking you to commit a sin you haven't already..." He says tentatively.

"Oh..." You say your eyes fill with tears, and your heart rate picks up, "I didn't imagine those things."

A flash of red glints in Eddie's eyes, "Relax, please", he says, tensing his jaw, "all of that is cleared away for you. No one will know except us."

You shut your eyes again and think about playing your guitar in the closet, but the guitar is dripping with blood, guts and brains.

You bring your knees up to your chest and clasp your hands over your head, gently rocking yourself. Trying to self-soothe to block out the panic. Then, snapshots flash into your mind with the realisation of what you had done. How could you have done those horrific things?!

Eddie snarls and grabs at your throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and just manages to reign it in, "GODDAMMIT!" He yells through his teeth and then shakily says, "I'm going to move away, alright? Do not, and I cannot emphasise this enough, do not make any sudden movements."

"Do you think it would help if you went out and found yourself something to eat?" You say hoarsely, keeping absolutely still, "Mainly because you keep telling me to relax, but it's you that's on a hair trigger."

"Touché," he says, wiping his mouth with his fingers, "I don't know how much it will help but let me see what I can find, and I'll be right back" he turns to mist and leaves again.

You curl up tighter into your ball and sob. You'd killed them. The first might have been an accident, but the second and third were very deliberate. So now you were a murderer. Who could possibly understand that?

Maybe if Eddie was right, he was your best chance. If you could pull this plan off, you could undo all of this.

Your phone buzzes, a message from Terry, "We want you to play with us tomorrow."

You think back to what Eddie had told you about your so-called friends. You weren't anything but a thing to them, a collectable, a lead guitarist, a potential love interest, not a person who could make their own way.

You grip the phone tightly and type through your ire, "Thank you so much. I'll make sure it's unforgettable!"

You take the time Eddie is away to sob and rage as much as you possibly can. You want to make sure to exhaust yourself, so you can remain as calm as possible around him.

You take it out on your surroundings. First, finding an old baseball bat and taking out the cabinets in the living room. Then all the delicate China dolls on display that were a daily reminder of what a less than perfect specimen you were. Next to meet their demise all your father's old sports trophies. A reminder of your own inadequacies.

You only stop when you almost cut yourself on some broken glass and decide to do a careful sweep-up. Before going out to sit on the back porch and try to use some star gazing to relax, so on his return you can understand the plan of action. You needed to be centred, focused, and with no distractions. You could do this. You could make this right.

Eddie assembles next to you, "Bet that can be a lot of fun", you say with half a smile.

"Oh, the mist stuff, yep, very handy. Speaking of...did you clear out your living room or something?" He says curiously.

"Or something", you mumble, looking at the floor.

Eddie puts his arm around your shoulders, and you quickly shrug out of it, "No one who really knew those people will miss them. They were bad, terrible people." He says

"Just because someone is bad doesn't give me the right to hurt them, Eddie."

"We are gonna change all that. We are gonna undo all of this"

"We are? At least that will be some good...I can't undo what I am now...who could ever understand what I did? Everyone hates me now, so fuck it, right?"

"I understand what you did. I'm on your side," Eddie says in earnest.

"Got a funny way of showing it", you laugh, touching your neck.

"Yeah, well, I'm trying my best here. Also, you are one to talk. I can fucking hear you avoiding my eyes," He says, frustrated.

"Because the voice in my head is actually insane for you, and no offence, but I'm like not there with it. In that bar, I felt that jealousy, but I knew it wasn't mine, but it was coursing through me."

"Yes, exactly...How can I put this...I've been at this undead stuff for quite a while. I can handle myself just fine around all sorts of heightened emotions, but when I hear your pulse race, it's not just your pulse. I can hear her too. So you are intertwined, just like me and mine. Except even if you were a Vampire, you wouldn't hear mine because I'm dead so... but just know it is so very, very, very tempting." He says, trailing off, looking at your neck again.

You clap your hands hard in front of his face, "Hey! No!"

He glowers at you.

"I'm just trying to keep it professional in here. Though I do have a couple of questions."

"Ok, shoot "

"You said you promised a bunch of minions you'd turn them, but you never did. Why? Also, have you ever turned anyone else into a vampire?"

"Mainly because they don't understand what they will miss out on or how much extra pain and loss you have to go through, and no, I've never turned anyone else."

"Would you?"

"No," he says quickly" Are you asking for yourself?"

"No, I don't think so. Even though the powers seem very cool, It sounds very lonely."

"So tomorrow..." He quickly changes the subject, "We'll take the encore when the place is full to capacity."

"Do you think this can really work? Like, we can barely sit in the same room as one another without something almost going wrong." You say, rubbing your hand down the side of your face, "And with the bats, you looked real bad at the end."

"In that place, I'm sort of part of all, so when you kill a bat or cut a vine, that happened to me too, but we aren't doing that this time. That won't happen again," he animatedly assures you.

"The other thing? Shit, I don't know. It seemed easier with the guitars there, though. Maybe we could..." He quickly grabs a chunky piece of stick for the floor, quickly slicing off the loose bark with one of his fingernails like it was a pen knife. Once satisfied, he says, "practice?" He puts it between his teeth, bites down on it, and tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows.

You think for a moment, grab his bandana from his pocket, and hand it to him. He nods and ties it around his face knotting it at the back of his head.

You reach around the back of his head quickly and ensure the knot is tightened.

His head immediately snaps to look at your neck, and you hear a faint crunch sound next to your ear. You move away slowly and dare to look up at him. The whites of his eyes are red, and his usual brown eyes look like his iris has wholly disappeared.

"Sorry, I was just testing," you say, looking at the floor.

Something instinctively raises your hand upwards, so your palm is facing Eddie. He mirrors your actions, so your hands are a few centimetres apart.

You see a tiny dark swirling cloud appear in the gap, like the ones that filled the sky in your nightmare.

Your heart rate starts to pick up. Your eyes move between your hands and Eddies face.

He's trying desperately to keep his eyes on your hands.

"Closer.. " the voice in your head hisses. You slowly push your hand another tiny increment towards Eddie's.

The voice in your head exhales with pleasure, and the tiny swirling cloud disappears into a blip, like turning off an old TV.

Before you can register any disappointment, an explosion of red lightning erupts, encircling your hands and snaking its way up your arms.

You can see Eddie's demonic eyes squinted like he's smiling under there, and a drop of blood falls from his eye. "He's home," two voices say in your mind, you immediately feel your heart slow, and you feel entirely at peace for a few moments, but the electricity having nowhere to go, begins to burn your arm, and you have to tear your hand away.

You shake some sparks from your arm. "Shit!"

Eddie grabs you by your shoulders. You realise his restraints are missing, but he's not aggressively shaking you. It's pure, innocent excitement.

He smiles widely at you, his eyes returning to normal, "Oh my fucking god!!! We can actually do this. I know now, she told me. We are going to fix everything. Right back to Henry. We can save them all."

You look up at him and smile back, feeling for the first time that you were worthwhile, you could make a difference, you mattered, you weren't a waste of oxygen,  and you had a purpose.

You instinctively look away from him.

"Hey! no!" He says excitedly, turning your head back to him," it was just something we had to push past. Look!" He holds your hand near his again, and the sparks and smoke fire up straight away, but you aren't scared this time. Eddie's eyes don't change. "See!" He says, laughing, shaking his head.

You hear a car screech to a halt outside, "EDDIE!!" You hear Mr Harrington yell. Both your heads snap in the direction of the familiar voice.

[sparrow-stunned]

Okay okay i just need to ramble about the yandere xiao fic because woah it was so 😭🥰

It genuinely filled me with pure dread to the point i closed my curtains and it’s been a long time since anyone’s writing was able to do that. So like very props to you because your writing??? Absolutely immaculate 😩👌

A lot of writers forget that the yandere trope is supposed to be terrifying yet also enjoyable for the reader, like they just write a kidnappingbut make the character slightly overprotective, but not really intimidating. But you, oh you managed to capture that feeling of horror, the slow loss of hope, the drowsy feeling of separating yourself from reality because of it all just ugh it’s so perfect, love it so so much.

Also i was crying during the end, when Eula came to save us 🥺 it made me so sad, the lost love between darling and her. I was practically screaming in my head “no!! Eula run away!! Don’t die for this!!” And i’m so glad she (hopefully) got away without any extra harm to her. I hope she got to go live a happy life and find someone else to love her, getting to move on from the reader. Sad but I wish only the best for my favorite woman <\3

Anyways sorry for the rambling!! It’s just that your writing is absolutely perfect and i will be re-reading that fic for a good few weeks, i just absolutely had to let you know how perfect that fic

wow, thank you for such a wonderful comment! please don’t be sorry —it’s not rambling to me—because it honestly made my day. I love reading comments/feedback/thoughts about my fics, since my perspective as a writer is very different from that of a reader.

it’s funny that you mention it filled you with dread, because when I write yandere fics, I don’t consciously go for that kinda mood. it just kinda happened with this fic, with the background and characterization.

the xiao I chose to portray was a bit removed from what I would describe as canon xiao—more animalistic, less restraint, none of that morality struggle nonsense, especially considering that he’s really not grappling with things like karmic debt. less traumatized, and a lot more dangerous. so yeah, that mental divide between him and darling, where he truly does not understand what he’s doing wrong, means fun times for everyone.

as for yandere portrayals, soft or sadistic or whatever, i read depending on mood; coincidentally, before writing, I happened to read this amazing darkfic, dead dove do not eat variety. really made me in the mood to write something fucked up—so with the anon request, i was like... how about 'let’s have sex while i'm forcing you to look at a man I killed for you while in a puddle of his blood'

on the one hand, hot. on the other, what the fuck.

(also, I will be honest and say that my brain was in constant thirst mode while writing some parts…)

fanfics are very much personal preference. different strokes for different folks, as the saying goes! I like yandere fics where the danger is subtle. for me, it’s not so much about the capture, but moreso the ✨implications✨. yes, I am indeed a fan of things like suspense and slow burn haha.

i definitely think there’s room for many types of portrayals, though I’m happy to hear you liked mine! my personal preference is focusing on the psychological aspect, which you can definitely see in the fic when darling just kinda goes.. despondent. your comment about the loss of hope and their separation from reality is spot on!

Poor Eula… I was considering having a more, um, gruesome ending, but I love her too much to really go through with it. she’s quite a comfort character for me, so it'd have been jarring to write. I had a lot of fun writing the Eula and darling scenes though, since they were so cute.

overall, a big thank you for the feedback! I really, really appreciated this ask, and I’m happy to see you enjoyed it so much!

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Kinktober #14 - Blood

A/N: So, after discussing prompts with @hisoknen at great length, we came to a conclusion that there wasn’t enough darkfic content for Mr. Sunshine Personified-- Mirio “Lemillion” Togata. Turn away now if you’re the slightest bit squeamish. Apparently this one has been anxiously awaited for a while...

===============================================

On the surface, everything was smiles and effortless bravado. After regaining his quirk, Lemillion was everything the public wanted to see in one of their top heroes; he was compassionate, devoted to service, and protected the weak. He went out of his way to ensure that justice was served with a million-watt smile. But that wasn’t the Mirio Togata you knew. You had lived with him for a few months in his home, though he wished you would grow to know it as your own. It tugged at his heartstrings to watch you cower away from his shadow when he’d open the door to the room you shared with him. He smiled the same warm smile he flashed the cameras and approached you casually, stripping his costume off with careless, unhurried fingers. Chains tinkled as the links rattled against one another. You scurried to the wall, crouched in on yourself as he continued to change. In the low light of his bedroom, he looked every bit the gilded god he projected himself to be. All blond hair and sky-blue eyes, he strode to meet your curled form and crooned softly as he rested a heavy hand on your head. “Hey, there. Is that any way to welcome me home?”

You whimpered in reply, words long escaped you when he was this close. It had been months since you had seen the sun, let alone interacted with anyone other than the grinning hero bearing down on you. “W-we...w-wel…” He smirked at your attempt to mimic the word. “It’s been a day.” Mirio stretched, his muscles quivering under his tanned skin enticingly. He took a knee and met your frantic gaze, heavy hand still resting atop your head. “It’s time to play!” he sang out, patting your hair like you were just another child he had rescued from the clutches of some villain. You shrunk and whimpered at the phrase, eyes immediately welling with tears as he strode to the nightstand to pull out his toys-- a familiar flash of silver glinted in the light and only added to your growing dread. It had been the same every night since he took you. Every night had been punctuated with blood and silver-- your blood. He took great care in hiding you away, making sure your connections had been tied off so none could discover his dirty little secret. “Oh, you’d think by now you’d enjoy our time together, Y/n.” He took out the first blade, a scalpel sharpened meticulously, and he held it teasingly against your skin. “I mean, you’re the first to have lasted this long.” The first cut always took you the longest to acclimate to-- the sting of the blade dragging in long, loving strokes into your tender flesh coming long after the cut had been made. Mirio sighed audibly at the sight of first blood beading up along the trail left by his tool. By virtue of your quirk the skin mended itself slowly, leaving behind a stream of claret in its wake. You hissed at the sensation of your body knitting itself back together only to be met with another slash at your chest. Skin split, you dared to look down only to be met with the sight of muscle fiber and more red shining back at you. Mirio added a thick finger to the cut and dug around, marvelling at the sensation of slick muscle under the calloused pad. With a loud gasp, you choked out a cry that drew his attention from the red oozing around his fingers. Your skin fought to mend itself around his busy fingers, only to be beaten back by your captor savagely ripping the newly puckered skin open with a finger curl. Your screams were exquisite, every note colored with both fear and anguish as he continued to explore the trail of vessels and arteries running along your exposed meat and tendon. Pulling back his hand, he inhaled the iron and copper scent of your blood as if he were appreciating a rare vintage wine. Dragging his tongue along his bloodstained palm, he moaned low and painted his chin in your colors. His eyes were chips of ice in a sea of gold, sharp enough he could cut you with his gaze alone. Your back thudded against the drywall, a rabbit caught in a snare you knew what would come next. His cock twitched to life against his bare, muscular thighs and dread set back in. Your exhausted body writhed futility against your chains and the cold wall at your back as he closed in, the surgical steel blade shimmering in red and silver. 

It came down quickly. The sudden slash across the tender meat of your neck left you soundless, barely breathless before the spurt of your scent drew him to his work. Your body slunk to the floor, your blood pooling around his feet as he knelt down and watched the life start to leave your eyes hungrily. “You’re so beautiful like this…” he whispered, awed at the red staining your paling skin. Your hand held feebly against the gushing injury, doing little to slow the flow. He made another series of more superficial cuts along your neck and shoulder, all the while minding the depth and rate of your breathing. Your vision was beginning to fade. Tendrils of black invaded and threatened to overtake you. Your body heaved with every struggling breath you took, oxygen failing to meet your ever growing demand as your blood continued to run freely down your arm and onto the floor at your captor’s feet. He dropped to his knees and lowed his head to drag his tongue along the puddle, pulling up with a groan you could only describe as ecstatic. Consciousness was leaving, and the slash was mending under your hand, but the damage was already done. With a third of your blood volume wasted on the floor, coherence was a luxury ripped away with eager hands.

Senses dulled, your scalp burned with the sudden pull to your knees. Your torso was sticky in trails of drying scarlet, a sight that stirred more desire in Mirio. His cock bobbed proudly against his chiseled abs; he drank in your dazed whines and parted your lips with the head of his throbbing girth. “Say aaah,” he grinned, tongue lapping at the remnants of your life drying on his lips. His grip on your hair tight, he pulled you onto his length until tears pricked your eyes and he could see the noticeable bulge of his cock in your throat. Your gag was weak, and your reserves were few when he brought another swift flick of his tool along your cheek. He flayed your skin from your cheekbone to marvel at the tendons holding your face together and shivered at the moist tightness of your esophagus contracting around him. Your quirk was working slower, the healing taking minutes what once took seconds. The sight of his cock peeking between tight cords of sinew and slick muscle made him swoon. It wouldn’t take long for him to hold you until consciousness faded from your eyes and he came into your stomach with a howl. When you came to he was already rutting into your abused hole with abandon. Your body tensed instinctively at the intrusion, but you felt his fingers rummaging through the new gashes he had made just below your ribcage. The sensation of his fingers digging into your wounds left you moaning. His conditioning brought you to the brink of delirium. Pain washed with pleasure, an ocean of suffering meeting an estuary of ecstasy and you were caught in the middle riding each wave with a shriek. “Oh, you’re finally awake. Hope you don’t mind. Of course you don’t mind! Look how tightly you’re squeezing my cock when I do this!” He wiggled his fingers against what you were certain was your liver and your heart rolled over in your chest. Your cunt clenched around him tight enough that you thought you would split in half from the force alone. Legs trembling, you came at the feeling of his head bruising into your cervix and him scissoring your wounds open with curious fingers. Panting, you groped around despite your shackles for something to ground yourself with. In your shuffling, a thought occurred to Mirio. It was one thing to feel your blood rushing around his fingers and under his touch...he wondered…

You came down slowly, still floating in that in-between when you felt cold sink into your bones. Your body convulsed against the permeation hero at the new sensation. He’d never used his quirk on you before, and the sensation filled you with equal parts dread and revulsion. He held you firmly, his fingers like meat hooks into your ribcage as he rooted around through your back until he found  what he was looking for. Your heart thrummed in your chest like a trapped bird in a mine against his fingertips. Breath left you in a sharp exhale as he materialized his hand around your heart and gave it an experimental squeeze. He could live off your screams alone feeling your heart chambers fill and contract with blood in his hand. With nowhere to run to without facing that indescribable pain ripping through your being, you dug your nails into the floor. More pain burned through your nerve endings, reminding you that you were ever present despite the fog of your continued blood loss. Pain kept your mind with him, kept you close. It was as if he had planned it from the start, knowing how he could draw out the most broken parts of you and leave you bare for him to exploit. Your walls clenched tighter with every gentle squeeze and caress of his hand as he salivated at the sensation of your aorta pulsating with every strangled beat. “I could end you, y’know...just one squeeze and your life ends in blissful agony…” he whispered lovingly into your ear. It was almost intimate, the way he held you and your life in his hands. You were cradled against his solid muscles as he draped himself over your back, hips still idly pistoning into your aching heat. Your heart beat tirelessly in his hand; in that moment he felt himself fall even deeper for your broken being. Rapt in your exquisite suffering, he clenched his fist tighter around the pumping chambers and buried himself deeper into your gaping hole, emptying himself into your waiting womb with a joyous groan. 

Your breathing stopped with that final squeeze, cueing him to release and rhythmically massage your exhausted muscle back into being. Your body shuddered; your lungs burned with the promise of more pain in the hours to come. Part of you missed the loss of your captor, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had you doubled over for him to wring dry; after all, it was your job to help your hero unwind. Maybe you could learn to love him in spite of the monster bleeding you to unconsciousness to explore your body uninhibited. After all, he has your life in his hands...

[bitchywaldof]

Beth/Daryl Fanfiction Recommendations 2021

Alternative Universe

Call me friend but keep me close – Pietromavximoff

E | Friends to FWB, FWB to lovers, secret relationship, Slow burn| 105k

When Beth Greene starts University and is away from home for the first time since her Mother’s death the freedom and independence could lead her to party and get drunk as most college students do, but Beth isn’t wanting that.  Instead while focusing on her studies in a bar that’s quiet during the day Beth befriends Daryl Dixon a Bartender who is always there to intercept when college boys hit on her.

I loved this fic, the FWB into lovers trope is something I absolutely adore being explored and I don’t think I have seen it in the Bethyl fandom till reading this one.  The writing was really detailed and I loved living in the characters head during the couple of days that I binge read it.   I read this fic while I was in hospital for an endometriosis flare up and was alone as my fiancé couldn’t stay the night and honestly these characters really gave me comfort and positivity while I was going through that J

I’ll be yours for a song – dynamicsymmetry

E | Slow Burn, Friends to lovers, Coming of age, Mental health, Smut, Healing, Demisexuality | 381k

Authors Summary: “In a small town where he doesn’t expect to stay long, Daryl Dixon comes across a girl walking by the side of the road at two in the morning, soaked to the skin.  He could offer to drive her home.  But he very much wants to not seem like a creep.  He also doesn’t want to leave her there.

He has no idea what he’s getting into”

This story really has left an impact on myself long after I finished reading it.   You can tell that a lot went into the writing of this fic and the prose is so beautifully real and honest from Daryl’s perspective.  The growth that Daryl shows in this story is at times hard to read but as someone who has gone through similar situations and mental health issues to the characters I really believe that what is represented in this story is authentic and an important exploration into how trauma impacts your relationships in your life good/bad.  

Big Hands, I know You’re the One – gutsforgarters

E | Daddy Kink, light dom/sub, smut, Porn with plot in the best way 18k

Beth Greene is a girl on a mission.  While on vacation with Rick Grimes and his family she just can’t get a certain muscly man out of her mind so why not just go for it?

Oh I could read gutsforgarters stories over and over and never get bored.  I just love her AU Beth/Daryl so much.  This story is light and sexy and captures those fun moments in the honeymoon period really well.  And this story really got me into reading more Bethyl Daddy kink and loving that so there you go…(if you know you know, and if you don’t honestly give it a crack and you just might enjoy it ;))

Canon Divergence & TWD universe era

Lament – Saya087

E | Reunion, fix-it, season 6 era, happy ending, Grief/mourning | 16k

Inspired by 6x10 when Daryl begs Rick not to play the CD.  While at Hilltop Daryl gets reunited with someone he thought he would never see again.

This little story really got me in the feels and was oh so sweet.  I have found myself reading more and more ‘fix-it’ fics especially after the 10c episodes.

The Broken Ones Series - Badboy_fangirl

E | Reunion, fix-it, picks up post s4, domestic fic | 57k

Authors Summary: “After Daryl goes through some pretty heavy shit, he gets reunited with Beth.”

This series written in 2014 is a really fantastic look at how the show could’ve explored Beth and Daryl is they hadn’t fucked up.  I love the AU universe the author has built and imagined up as it is the perfect setting to explore Bethyl in a domestic setting while still existing in TWD universe.

It’s going to take you people years to recover from all of the damage – Wandering_gypsea_feet

General Audiences |Reunions, fix-its, Team defiance, multi character perspectives | 62k

Authors Summary: “But there’s going to be a party when the wolf comes home.

One’shots focused on how Beth Greene might make it back to her family and different reunions spanning season 5 to season 10, leaning heavily on theories, thoughts and wishes.  Looking at how her family would get her back and how they’d react to our girl.  Different POVs each chapter.”

Oh I loved reading this authors updates of this story and seeing what she would explore next! I loved hearing the perspective from so many different characters and how they interpret Daryl and Beth and each characters reaction was so sweet and funny at times.   Fingers crossed for season 11 to see if they will bring Beth back!

Endurance - SpicyPepper_SweetSugar

M | Angst, Darkfic, check tags for TW, Savior Beth, Negan| 135k - WIP (last updated 2016)

Authors Summary: “Three years have passed since Daryl and the others arrived at the ASZ.  The community is now lead by Rick and Deanna together as they try and keep the balance of living and surviving.  When a new threat arises, however.  Daryl is forced to face the past that he has been trying to put behind, because on the side of the enemy, a familiar face can be seen.”

So this is a fic with dark themes so please check the tags before reading.  I really enjoyed this fic for its commentary on PTSD, mental health and trauma on Beth.  This fic really explores the concept of Beth not wanting to return to her family even though she has the chance and why that could possibly be.  While some of the characterisation could be deemed ooc I really enjoyed what the author was doing in exploring such traumatic impacts on character and how that would result in shifting personalities and core belief systems and values.

Okay so that is it for now J I have seriously enjoyed being a part of the Bethyl fandom over the last few months since discovering it.  It has such amazingly talented writers and I truly feel so lucky to be able to read so many stories about characters I love in such dynamic and interesting ways.  I have been feeling really inspired to get writing myself (something that I have never felt before in any of my previous fandoms) because of this fandom and that has become such a fan and therapeutic outlet for me over the last month or so.  I am excited to just be here and enjoying it J

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Serial Killer!Armitage Hux x Blood Spatter Analyst F Reader/DCI!Ben Solo x BSA!Fem Reader

A/N: THIS IS A DARKFIC. This is a only prelude for the whole fic which I am still working on. Exploring Hux’s potential darker side is something that’s been on my mind for a really long time and then I watched Hannibal and my serial killer enjoyment kicked up again 🤣 just the picture for this weeks Writer Wednesday prompted this little snippet. Also RC does enjoy her job probably as much as Dexter 🤣The first half is from Hux’s pov and the second is from RC’s. DO NOT READ if you are sensitive to anything remotely dubious. 18+ Minors DNI. @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: description of taking life, stalker Hux, dark thoughts, he’s a strangler so be warned. Mention of food, moving between jobs, description of blood. Set in London but I am using artistic licence in this fic so not 100% accurate with locations, but I have done my research into BSA and the job they do. (My google search is not something that the police should look at right now 🤣)

Word Count: 1541

Read the Prelude here on AO3.

These places were perfect, it was dark, the lighting wasn’t great and he could hug the shadows as he watched people go about their unsuspecting lives. It had been a few weeks since he’d felt the strain of his garrotte and his hands itched, his mind cried out for that relief he felt when the life left their body.

The heaviness of their form was always a comfort and he wondered often if his father felt the same way after he’d killed his wife. It played in Hux’s mind every time he took a life, he felt like he was in his fathers shoes. The only time he was good enough to step up to his fathers legacy. Killing was a habit now, he craved the rush it gave him that they couldn’t over power him or take anything from him, unlike everyone else in his life. He was taking the most precious thing from them and it gave him such a heady feeling.

He looked up when a few people arrived at the temporary diner, the soft light highlighted you as you stepped up to deliver your order and he was instantly captivated. The way you moved was enchanting, life seemed to blossom from you, alighting everything around you and he couldn’t look away. You looked up at the man you were with, your beautiful face breaking out into a smile and your laugh reached Hux’s ears making his fists clench in desperation. The garrotte was in his pocket ready and waiting to wrap around the column of your beautiful neck but when Hux finally paid attention to the man behind you he withdrew around the tree.

DCI Ben Solo…the copper who had suspicions about Hux but had no proof. Oh, Hux knew about the board of supposed facts the DCI had in his office, like a shrine to Hux’s misdeeds and he smirked into the darkness. Taking one right from under the nose of the DCI was so appealing, a game with high stakes and strict rules, a game Hux wanted to play.

He peered around the trunk of the tree, watching you with a renewed intensity, the desire burned through his blood like a fire that only one action could douse. His eyelids flickered as he imagined the way your throat would constrict, the way you’d fight, he could see you had spirit. You’d be a challenge. His gaze fixated on the column of your throat and he rested heavily against the tree, the longer he watched you the more he wanted….no. He needed you. He needed to feel your soft skin, he needed to hear you struggle, he needed to pull you close to his chest as he choked you. To smell your hair, to feel your warmth, to know that he was in that moment, the most powerful being in your life.

Your gaze swept over his hiding place and he moved, now was not the time. He needed to be patient, it would come down to a particular moment and only when that moment was upon him, would he know how perfect it was.

“What do you fancy? My treat.” You turned to Ben, his cinnamon eyes roaming over the menu over the top of your head because he stood so much taller than anyone else.

“I think you’re doing enough for me, this is my treat,” you exclaimed firmly.

“But I called you here…”

“So? This is on me.” He shrugged, a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth and you swatted his arm, a small laugh bursting forth as you tried not to notice the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. The soft light of the mobile diner gave them a sense of life which he snuffed out as he ran a hand over his stubble.

“Nah, come on. I’m starving,” he moaned and you rolled your eyes.

“Ok ok,” you peered at the menu asking for a basket of loaded fries and Ben ordered the same. You both sat down on the red stools which were much more comfortable than they looked. You turned your seat round, lifting your face up to the dark sky and letting a gentle breeze flow over you. The quiet trickle of conversation filled the air around you and people sat at the tables dotted around enjoying their food, some music played in the background and if you closed your eyes you could easily imagine you were across the pond sat in a real diner. The smell of the coffee, the sizzle of the fries, it all coagulated together into a comforting sensation in the middle of your chest and you let out a little sigh. Ben nudged your arm alerting you to food so you turned and grabbed the Tabasco bottle off the little sauce shelf.

“Tabasco. Really?” You smiled as you dribbled some over the melted cheese.

“Yeah, you don’t like spicy food?” You asked. He wrinkled his face in distaste and you couldn’t stop the giggles.

“Anyway,” he started clearly in an effort to change the subject. “How’s the lab? You think I could persuade you to stay here, permanently?” You shook your head, chewing on a chip and reaching for some napkins before answering.

“I’m a nomad. I like moving around…”

“But you have no home. Doesn’t it get you know, lonely?” You shrugged. You’d never really thought about it, you went where the blood was flowing the most, following the trail of destruction across the country. You didn’t tell many people but you enjoyed the thrill, when you stepped into a new blood soaked crime scene it gave you a sense of awe. None of the patterns were ever the same and it fascinated you how a simple flick of the wrist could produce different results for different killers. Your eyes rose to meet Ben’s and you felt like you wanted to tell him, I wanted to explain the way your job made you feel. As a fellow colleague he might understand but you always kept this part of you locked away. There was a fine line between enjoying your job and enjoying your job.

“No, not lonely, just means I can do what I like or work as long as I like.” Ben licked his fingers, reaching for a napkin he nodded.

“Yeah I get that. My parents are constantly on at me to find someone but I refuse to date a fellow copper and aside from the victims' families I don’t meet anyone else.”

“Oh, that’s not much of a dating pool,” you mumbled and he smirked at your words.

“No, no dating pool. If my mother had her way I’d be all “I’m really sorry your husband died, looking to remarry because my mother wants grandkids!” Yeah, no thanks.” You giggled wiping your greasy hands on another napkin.

“She sounds like she just wants the best for you.”

“The best for me isn’t meeting someone on the worst day of their lives,” he rumbled, suddenly withdrawing into himself and you turned to see him looking down at his food with a vacant expression.

“There’ll be someone. I have to believe there is someone for everyone, otherwise what’s the point of all this.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t like the dip in mood and you looked around trying to see something to distract you both. Some movement caught your eye, over by a tree just outside the pool of light and you squinted, but instantly dismissed it when you saw the railings along the edge of a pond beyond the tree.

“Come on,” you tugged on his arm offering no explanation and dumping your empty basket into the bin provided. You waved and thanked the staff getting a chorus of farewells back and sauntered over to the path.

“Where are we going?” He asked, finally catching up with you. You peered into the darkness, hoping your eyes were playing tricks on you because you swore there had been someone standing next to this tree, but there was no one here.

“I saw a pond, I wanted to see the ducks,” you said without thinking.

“You do know it’s around ten thirty at night the ducks will be sleeping. Like we should be,” he muttered.

“It was your idea to get dinner.” He huffed in resignation, stuffing his hands in his pockets and picking up his pace to follow you to the edge of the lake. You peered into the darkness, something didn’t feel right and your skin prickled. Ben instantly noticed and followed your line of sight.

“What is it?” His tone hushed as though not wanting to disturb you.

“You know, I think I should head back now.” The sense you were being watched was increasing, making your stomach flip uncomfortably with nerves.

“Ok, I’ll walk you back. I left my car at the station anyway. Your hotel is on the way.” You flinched slightly when he pressed his hand against the top of your back steering you back down the path. Finally you turned, telling yourself you were being stupid you were safe here and yet the sense of danger was there, nibbling at your subconscious telling you no matter where you went, you were never completely safe.

[st-just]

Do you have any books or podcast recommendations that have the same overarching concept as "The Left Right Game"?

I'm always looking for new worlds to get lost in, and everytime the MC chooses to Stay I feel a little bit better about staying.

(probably too personal, but 🤷 I still wanna know)

Oh, not at all!

Though...okay, so it’s not exactly a rare thematic beat in general - or at least I’m given to understand it’s like a solid 90% of Isekai. And then most stories that aren’t about some variety of boring high fantasy setting usually end up portraying it as some degree of horrifying or a tragic ending. But in terms of stuff I’ve actually read that fits the bill. Hmm...

Have you read Annihilation, by Jeff Vandermeer? Specifically the book, not the movie. Because that should be just about perfect.

There’s absolutely some short stories that got read on Pseudopod or Escapepod that fit, but I can only ever remember exactly four stories in particular for* those shows and none of them do so pointing you at a decade of weekly updates isn’t exactly helpful.

Hmm...it’s not an exact fit, but the portrayal of the Mythos is Winter Tide and (especially) Deep Roots by Ruthanna Emrys kind of fits? Thematics are a bit messed up because in the protagonist’s case it’s more about accepting/reconnecting with her heritage than leaving it behind. They’re antagonists (though not villains), but the relationship between the Mi-Go and a few of their human friends/allies in the sequel fits the bill perfectly, though.

The Darkfic alternate ending of Worm that lives in my head, clearly.

Not sure I’d really recommend it overall - the prose is beautiful, the pacing is not - but The City In The Middle Of The Night by Charlie Jane Anders more or less fits? Well, internally rather than externally, so maybe not.

But yeah, desperately underserved niche, I need for find more stories that fit too, really. For all that ‘Joyously Casting Aside Humanity And Journeying Past the Horizon” sounds like a Rakshasa charm from Exalted, you still think there’d be more examples of it. 

*”That one quote about how we would be fools to pray for justice, in short story form”, “Edge of Tomorrow but as an insurgent in Iraq and with less comedy more trauma”, “Horribly bullied native american child goes full Carrie after her dog is killed”, “A Story About Imperialism, but from the perspective of a girl from the slums of Mexico City getting offered a better life as an alien collaborator than she ever would have had while humans ruled the world”. There’s also a ‘traveller in a Post-Lovecraftian apocalypse world” one I remember loving the imagery of but can never remember enough of to find.

[stvlti]

2020 Creator Wrap

I was tagged by @irolltwenties to do the 2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works tag! Thank you, lovely (*˘ ε ˘*)

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Before I begin, let me just tag some friends:

@reaperlight @3dnygma @drowthelynes @transdankovsky @fantomn @lawliyeeeet @dressed-to-keehl @setfa @0akdown @reidsnor @clubolive @mermaides

No pressure, but it would be fun if you guys share some of your works this year ( ˘︶˘ ) let’s see those fics and edits and artworks!! Get the clicks and views y’all deserve 💕 💕

And now, onwards to my 2020 Favorite Works List!

I didn’t write nearly as much as some of you guys did. And though I did exceed my goal of putting out 1 fic per month, I don’t have 5 solid ones I’m proud of. So I’ll just list 4 fics here:

01 // Growing Pains

I’ve always been very nervous about reccing this one, because it broaches a topic that I don’t really have a right to claim? I’m not transgender myself, but I simply adore the trans Dick Grayson headcanon so much it singlehandedly brought me back to the DC fandom and restarted my fanfic-writing habit for 2020 😂😂 plus the writing quality isn’t half bad, and I still really like the idea/metaphor this little story started with and grew from. 

Fave moment (besides the obvious):

"Ka-Pow!!" The boy ventriloquised. Lego Robin sailed through the air in his fingers. One stubby, outstretched leg made contact with a Lego henchman, knocking all the surrounding baddies over like bowling pins. "Sorry Mr. Bad Guys, guess it's way past your bedtime too!"

"Good job, Robin." The boy lowered his prepubescent voice and tried to affect Batman's gravelly timbre as much as possible. In his other hand, he walked Lego Batman across the floor of the crime scene. "How about we round them up and leave it for the Commish? It's getting quite late."

"Oh oh! Can I have cookies on the ride back?"

The boy swivelled Lego Batman's grinning face around. "I don't see why not."

Another night out in Lego Gotham City, another day saved by the Dynamic Duo. This called for a celebration indeed. The boy set the pair of heroes down by the Lego Batmobile and reached over to his own plate of Alfred's after-school chocolate chip cookies. He took his sweet time with the last piece, savouring each bite, sighing at the way it melted on his tongue.

02 // Transference 

This is my best-performing fic in terms of the kudos to hits ratio, so I feel validated in being proud of this one :’) It’s a pretty good marker of the distances I’ve covered since getting serious about reading the comic source material end of 2019, as you can see from the much broader and varied cast of characters I focused on for this story. It also definitely cemented - to me, at least - the fact that I can write action scenes. When I went into “Second Chances” (a fem Jay fic) earlier this year, I was so nervous about writing the action sequence there, because I’ve never written a serious action scene up until that point! To me, this fic definitely showcases the growth I’ve experienced as a writer this year ^_^

Fave moment: (CONTAINS SPOILERS, PLEASE READ THE FIC FIRST IF YOU HAVEN’T!)

When the trio return, Ivy takes her place at the meeting table with a severe expression on her face. She chooses her words carefully, when she speaks. "The odds aren't pretty. We just accepted 100 refugees over the weekend, and the Green is still repairing itself after last week's attack."

Rose exchanges a glance with Jason. He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, though he's not looking any better than she feels.

"But, each and everyone of us stayed behind to defend the Garden, because we all believed in giving a sanctuary for the civilian survivors out there.

"So bring them here. I'll take them in."

No sooner has Ivy finished the sentence, than Zatanna and Constantine have fired up their teleportation portal, and Harley's cheerful "Good luck!" is lost to the mad dash off to the rescue mission. The rest of the Shadowpact scramble after Rose as she launches herself through the portal—

—and slams into Arsenal, pushing him out of the way seconds before a meteoric explosion of green fire incinerates the very spot he'd been standing in.

03 // Paying It Forward

This one is important to me if only for the reason that it’s the first time I’ve written character dialogues that flowed. And I didn’t even need to plan them out meticulously beforehand! Do you know how rare that is for me as an ESL writer? Dialogues have been the bane of my existence since I started writing as a wee teen. Luckily, the Titans TV show has some solid character dynamics for me to fall back on. And from there I started reading NTT era Dick & Donna, and I just fell in love with their friendship. And now, I can turn to this fic as proof I still got it whenever I doubt my abilities as a writer c:

Fave moment:

Dick glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "She ran out on you?"

"No, no, we never really... I don't think it counts as running away if it never led to anything more."

"But you wanted it to be more." Dick paused, taking in Donna's silence, which would've fooled anyone else but him. "You still want it."

"I-- yeah." Donna sighed and held her hands up as if to say you caught me. "I'm... Sorry? For stealing your girl?"

Dick laughed, bemused. "She was never mine. She knew what she wanted, what she needed - and I wasn't in the right place to give her that."

"And you? You think I'm what she needs?"

"Better you than me. You're Donna Troy. Older, smarter, prettier..."

Donna gave him a deadpan stare.

"... And you know who you want to be. She likes that in a partner. I'm still figuring that one out for myself." Dick stretched his arms up and then leaned back into his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stared up into the ceiling.

04 // When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

I’m including this one just to showcase I got the range, babey. And honestly, the fact that I was able to write this fic and actually receive positive reviews for it was a surprise to me too!! This was the first time I ever attempted to write a real darkfic with dead dove subject matters, and I managed to nail the emotional manipulation, somehow ;__; It was a real learning experience too, learnt so much about Catholicism just to write about Dick’s guilt issues in an AU setting nobody asked for 🤡

Fave moment: (dead dove warnings apply)

"Not at all, Richard," Roman said. The boy would come to him, eventually. "Now, it's getting late. If that's all, I'll have Jason fetch your room keys. Seven Hail Mary's before bed, and think about everything we've just discussed. Tomorrow we'll do a proper debriefing."

"I... Okay." For a moment, Dick sounded like he had more to say. Instead, Roman heard a muffled sniffle, one that Dick likely tried to disguise with a hand over his mouth. Silly boy.

"Thank you again, Father," Dick said, after a beat.

"All in a day's work, my child." Roman unlatched the door and stepped out of the booth. He nodded at Dick as the younger man ambled out of the booth after him. "Goodnight now, Richard."

As he set off for the living quarters, Dick called out. "Wait!"

Roman turned around, inclining his head.

"Will you stay?" The candlelight chased shadows away from Dick's face, and for one glorious moment, Roman could see the depth of the desperation shining in Dick's blue eyes.

"Guide me through my prayers. Please."

Roman smiled.

-

Oh did you think I was done? 😂 It did say Favourite Works and not just Favourite Fics, so I gotta include this one on the list too:

05 // 2020 Jason Todd Birthday edit

I said Robin Jason deserves better and I meant it! 👏👏 This edit took me 12 hours and 67 layers ‘cause I made a mistake on like my 8th hour into the editing process o__o but it ended up being my most popular serious graphic edit, so it was worth it. I guess! 

I mean the likes to reblog ratio is still fucked but hey, I broke 1k, which is more than I can say for any of my other edits

[veliseraptor]

Hey, if one was to start Reading your loki fics, which one would you suggest they start with?

Oh, lord. I mean, it really depends on what you’re in it for, and whether you have ships/prefer genfic/prefer darkfic/prefer slightly less darkfic. 

I feel like the one a lot of people start with is Life in Reverse, which is a complete longfic that is probably my most “well known” one? It’s also, from my perspective, older at this point. There’s also we’re not friends, we’re strangers with memories, which is also older, also complete, and also maybe a good starting point as far as ‘I write a lot about really dysfunctional people being dysfunctional together.’ (Though the enemy of my enemy is better writing, just not finished.) 

If you want something complete and shorter, then a few ideas would be (leaving off anything shippy or explicit):

Mirror, Mirror: If you want something pre-canon and (at least arguably) canon compliant - this is the “when your depression becomes an externalized force and tries to devour you” one. It’s not as horror-fic as it sounds.

half a league onward: The AU where Loki gets sent to Earth alongside the Hulk - I feel both pretty proud of this one and like it encapsulates a lot of the self-indulgent things I like to work with in my writing.

the ship at the end of the universe: The “I want some of those emotional threads addressed” fic I wrote post-Ragnarok, and it is basically “addressing emotional loose ends feat. Loki: the fic” which is extremely On Brand for me as a whole.

I have lived with shades, a shade: Speaking of ‘self-indulgent’ - this is the one where Wanda and Steve end up mucking around in Loki’s head while trying to help, and everyone is not having a great time. It’s...a very specific set of tropes that I haven’t actually written before or since (though I’m gonna), but it’s also a fic that is very close to my personal heart.

Road to Nowhere: This falls into my genre of “terrible road trips with people who are upset at each other” which is more substantial than you’d think, this one featuring Thor and Loki post-TDW on a mission to get Frigga out of Hel. It’s wildly not canon compliant with anything that comes after that point in time, but most of what I write is canon divergent AUs anyway.

These are all longer (all over 10k), but there are a lot of shorter relatively plotless oneshots in there as well, and if you want ships I’ve written a number (most notably Loki/Grandmaster, Loki/Natasha, and a whole lot of Loki/Steve; also one Loki/Bucky in there). I do on the whole write more gen than anything else.

 Maybe Tapestries would be a good starting point, actually. It’s not technically “complete” as a series but the fics are all individually complete in themselves.

But honestly I’m probably a bad person to ask. I feel like one of my actual readers could be a better person. Because I’m like “read Remember This Cold” but that’s probably not actually a good starting point, it’s better for me to gradually seduce you into paying attention and then drag you into an enormous AU for a relatively small pairing.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Severed Bonds (Chapter 13)

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags/Warnings: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex…?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity, Rough Sex, Lemons, Mentions of Prostitution,  Violence, Possessiveness

Notes: It’s been a while, so as a reminder, please read the tags!

Severed Bonds: a Spicyhoney SW AU

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4: Interlude | CH5 | CH6: Interlude 2 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 |

Read Chapter 13 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Edge woke again, it was still ship’s night. He didn’t remember falling asleep while trying to concoct a plan to deal with Rus’s nightmares, but a glance at the chronometer told him it had only been a few hours. The bed next to him was empty, not entirely unusual, but the faint rapping on the door was. Something was stirring in the Force, he could feel it. Not a warning so much as an ominous hum. It made him cautious, but the only thing on the other side of the door was BD-7.

It let out a quavering, uncertain sound and that alone gave Edge pause. The little droid had proven to be almost foolishly bold, so for him to be unsettled was cause enough to be wary.

“What is it?” He slid on his boots and hooked his lightsaber to his belt, following the little droid out into the ship proper.

He heard it before he saw it, rustling and loud muttering, the sound of things being slammed around. He knew it was Rus before he even reached out to brush against his shields. But they were seamlessly tight, no give at all beneath his light probe, rebuffing any mental touch.

“Stay here,” Edge murmured. The small droid’s mechanical face was impressively expressive. He didn’t make so much as a beep and it was apparent that he was not keen on this idea. But Edge would not relent; Rus was less likely to try to hurt him and even if he did, Edge was far better equipped to handle it than one droid who didn’t even reach their knees, whose only weapon was a welding tool.

Edge inhaled slowly, settling himself in calm, and stepped into the crew cabin. And directly into a wreck; data rods and star maps strewn everywhere, equipment Rus had been working on smashed, even what looked like a few of their cups shattered into rubble on the floor. Impressive considering that the plasticine should have been unbreakable. Rus was sitting at the table with yet another map laid out in front of him, scribbling on it with an old-fashion stylus. The slashes of black were barely legible and mostly consisted of foul swearing, in every language Edge knew and several other besides.

The dark shadows staining beneath his sockets were stark against the paleness of his skull, but Russ’s eye lights were blazing unevenly, symptomatic of whatever was currently haunting him and Edge only stood there, aching; it was as if every step of progress they’d made towards some kind of sanity had broken along with the cups.

“i don’t know where we can go,” Rus said suddenly, breaking the silence. He was only half-dressed, in his trousers with his tunic hanging open, exposing his rib cage. For all that he was sitting, there was a manic energy around him, his legs jittering, the bare bones of his feet clacking against the deck as he frantically wrote, “we can’t stay here much longer, we’ve already been in one place too long, but i don’t know where—“

He raked the stylus suddenly over the map, ugly, looping scrawls of blackness, then cast it carelessly aside. It fell like a dying leaf, settling silently on the floor with the others.

Cautiously, Edge stepped closer, studying the scattered maps. There was one hanging off the table as yet unmarked and he saw a name he recognized. Pinching the corner between two fingers, he pulled it loose, studying it. “We could go to Ebott.”

Rus stilled and the peculiar heaviness in the air grew. “that’s an incredibly stupid idea.”

“we’d blend in!” It was true; Ebott was their home planet and there would be plenty of their species there. Surely no one would give them more than a second glance, especially if they dressed to match the natives. They’d be nothing more than faces in a crowd, unremarkable.

“we’d stand out like a pair of fools begging to be shot square between the sockets!” Rus countered, sneering, “it’s obvious to anyone who looks at us we’re from two different clans! how exactly do you plan on explaining that?”

"I…" Rus was right, he realized. He had no memory of living on Ebott himself, they'd both been taken by the Jedi when they were still babes in arms. But his own people, the Fell clan, were reported to be violent, warmongering ones and the Swap clan were strictly pacifists. There would be few reasons for them to travel together on that planet unless--

Rus smirked suddenly and his laugh was sharp enough to cut, to leave thin slashes on the surface of Edge’s soul, “ah, i see. you were hoping to pretend i was your slave, is that it?"

“No. No, I would never…” Edge whispered, horrified. He should have backed off, shouldn’t have spoken at all. But Rus’s eye lights were brightening, glowing savagely and his laughter was a bittersweet poison, echoing in the small room.

"if that's how you want to play, you only needed to ask," Rus swept an arm over the table, sending data rods and star maps flying, scattering across the messy floor. He lay back on the cleared table, spreading his legs wide and crossing his arms over his head at the wrist. "i know how to play this one. Come on, master, take what you want."

Edge didn't move, frozen, only the agitated throb of his soul within. He couldn’t move, staring in bleak horror at Rus writhing on the table, on the scarred bones of his rib cage, the savage darkness of Force gathering around him. Some distant, bitter seed deep inside him was amazed that anything Rus did could still shock him, proven when he was suddenly Force-seized and dragged forward, pulled between Rus's knees.

"yes, master, please,” Rus begged, mockingly, wrapped slim legs around Edge’s pelvis to hold him in, grinding against him. ”i'll be a good boy, oh, please!!"

Horrifyingly, his body reacting to being pressed close to Rus, hardening as he listened to those throaty cries. His cock didn't care about the sneering glitter in Rus's eye lights, didn’t care about the pain layered beneath it. Even so, Edge did not fight him, couldn’t, only allowed Rus to press and writhe against him with increasing fervor as he didn’t react.

"oh, i see, i've got it wrong." Rus voice rose again, and this time it held no mocking. His words were desperate and fearful as he pleaded raggedly, "no! no, please, no more! No more, master i can’t—" he shuddered and collapsed limply against the table, like one who’d given up, given in to degradation and it was real, too real, like a memory come to life and—

"Stop it!" Edge roared. He yanked desperately away, stumbling back, but he could still feel the press of Rus against him, the heavy hardness of his cock between his legs.

That false vulnerability was gone in a blink as Rus sat up, and he was laughing again, sharp and mocking, ”go on, jedi. go jerk off and think about me. i’ll be waiting when you’re ready to fuck.”

Edge couldn’t do this; emotions battering against his own shields, his own fear, his shame, and worse, his bitter anger, anger at Rus, at himself, because he knew exactly why Rus was so broken. And he knew who was at fault.

Edge spun on his heel and walked rapidly away, down the main corridor, through the hold and down the ramp to the planet surface. It was darker outside, the dual suns never went lower than the crest of the horizon, and only marginally cooler than before.

He sat on the end of the ramp, breathing in the hot, dusty air that was still cooler than the burn within him. He stared out at the wastelands around him, nothing but boulders and dust in sight, focused on each rock formation, studying them as he calmed. It took a long time, too long, for him to wrestle back his control and only when he had it did Edge reach for the Force. Brief, unwanted fear pierced, that this would be the time it slipped away from him, but the Force only flowed into him as it always had, cool and serene.

Only when his shields and emotions were firmly back in place did Edge venture back into the ship. Rus was gone and BD-7 was there instead, carefully picking up the data rods one at a time and stacking them. There were a lot and it would take him the rest of the night on his own.

Edge crouched down and gathered a handful of them. "Let me help."

BD-7 chirped mournfully, not a protest, but the worried sound of a friend who’d seen something they shouldn’t. With a quiet sigh, Edge patted his head, his bone fingers clattering lightly against metal.

“It’s my choice to be here,” Edge told him quietly. “I won’t leave Rus alone.” He made no mention of his past agreement, that he belonged to Rus, but it was true. He’d made his decision, thrown everything that he was into Rus’s lot, and he would stay here to whatever grim end might await them. But he wouldn’t make that choice for any other sentient. “You don’t have to stay here. We can find a safe place for you, not on this planet, perhaps the next—“

A loud blatting sound interrupted him, wordlessly telling him BD-7’s opinion on that. Edge smiled involuntarily, even as guilty relief thickened in his throat, “Very well, then. Together we go.”

Between the two of them, they cleaned up the crew cabin quickly enough. Data rods put away and the star maps set aside to be cleaned by the maintenance droids. Weariness was pulling on Edge, interrupted sleep coupled with plain exhaustion from days of hard work, but he decided to go to the mines early rather than try to sleep. The sooner they had enough credits, the sooner they could leave this wretched place.

Rus wasn’t in their room, likely hidden away belowdecks, and Edge dressed quickly in his gear, settling the mask over his skull. BD-7 clung to his shoulder as he walked to the speeder, skittering into one of the saddlebags to hide as Edge powered it on and headed towards town.

A few klicks along and the slumped shadow of the mining town was within view. Edge did not see the smaller shadows that separated out, moving behind him, the half-dawn light concealed their dust clouds as he rode on. Multiple trails that followed him through the deserted plains, growing closer, closer, traveling along behind him.

~~*~~

TBC

Next