#to pain especially if it’s a full body scene or whatever

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | part 3

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Matt's thirsty (but so are you also lowkey) / Awkward family moments / Visuals (Don't like them? Don't use them🤷🏻‍♀️) / I suck at writing kiss scenes (yes it's happening) / it's spicy but not full on smut (smut adjacent) A/n: For now this is the end of the mini-series. Thank you all for enjoying my story and see you all in the next one! [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

Normally you would love to be proven right. Revel in the knowledge that they should have listened to you. But now? Fuck being right. You don't want to right. 

You've been carrying the letter with you for a couple of days and the weight of it makes your schoolbag makes it feel like it's filled with bricks. The letter is weighing you down, and everybody around you seems to notice it. Especially Mattheo. You still hang out with him, of course, but every time the words are on the tip of your tongue, you chicken out.

"Have you told him yet?", asks Susan as she sees you reading the letter again during lunch.

Giving her a frowned look, you shake your head. How in Merlin's name can you inform him that 'hey, my parents want to meet you because Meemaw saw us sneak into my dorm. Now they think we are together and having sex and want to meet the hypothetical father of my hypothetical baby if we were actually having hypothetical sex and not being careful. All hypothetically of course. Why else would I sneak a boy into my dorm?' 

Not casually at least. 

You look over towards his table and meet his eyes. He motions with his head towards the door. You nod with a small smile and finish your juice. "See you in class."

"Have fun with your boyfriend!", she calls after you and you flip her off. 

"What was all that about?", asks Mattheo with a small smile while the two of you walk side by side towards Herbology. 

You shrug, scratching the nailbed of your thumb. You feel a sharp pain but you continue. You know now more than ever that this is the time. "I've... I've received a letter. From my parents." You fish the letter out of your bag and hold it out for him.

Mattheo stops and looks unsurely towards the folded-up paper. When you give him a nod he unfolds the letter. You watch nervously how his eyes scan over the words.

When he stays silent, you begin to panic. "We- you don't have to! I can totally write my parents back and tell them... something! That we broke up or whatever."

"You've got nieces?" He's got a soft smile on his face as he traces the embellishments of the letter. Of course, the stationery of House Hufflepuff has its letters decorated to match the vibe of the family name.

With a shake of your head, you run a hand over your hair. "Out of everything... the thing you focus on is my nieces? Not that fact that my parents want to meet you?"

Mattheo shrugs, handing you the letter back. "Yeah, so what? That's what boyfriends do, don't they? Meet their girlfriend's parents. Fake relationship or not. Wasn't it your parents you wanted to fool?"

That shuts you up and a flaring heat spreads over your face and neck, even towards the points of your ears. "I-I yeah... But I never imagined them doing this! Then I would have never done all this to you!" With a guilty look, you slowly reach for one of his hands. You rub slow circles over the back of his hand.

Mattheo's brain short circuits as his eyes focus on your hand and his. How soft the pad of your thumb feels against his skin. He wonders if your hands feel as soft on different parts of his body. Or how sharp your nails feel when you scratch his back.

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. Taking his chance, he turns his hand around and laces his fingers with yours. "So... how do I leave a good impression on your parents?"

You think for a moment, looking away. "As superficial as it sounds, they put great value in looking a certain way." In that way they're just like other pure-blood families, you want to add but don't. You don't want to offend him or his family.

With a determent nod, Mattheo starts walking the opposite way you were going, pulling you behind him.

"Where are you taking me? Divination is that way", you point over your shoulder as you catch up to him.

Mattheo gives you a daring smile, his eyes wrinkling playfully. "My dorm. I need your advice on what to wear."

You protest and sputter about your attendance all the way towards the Slytherin dungeons. A snake made of metal rises from the ground and reveals a set of double doors. "Pure-Blood", says Mattheo and the doors swing open. You give him a look and he shrugs. "It's the password. Nothing I can do about it."

"I said nothing!", you laugh, being pulled through the entrance

The common area looks like it's carved out of rock, with marble pillars and arches. Large windows give you a look into the endless depth of the Black Lake, fish swimming by. It takes your breath away how stunning the Slytherin common room looks. It's oh so different from your own, but just as beautiful.

You try to ignore the stares you get from the Slytherin's around the room. You do stand out like a sore thumb with your sunshine yellow robes.

"Don't you ever need to pee very much when you are in the common area?", you ask, motioning towards the waterfall you circle as you enter the common room and the many water features around.

Mattheo rolls his eyes with a smile as he leads you down a corridor and holds open the door for you to enter his dorm. Four four-poster beds with green drapes are arranged in a circle with a heater in the middle of the room, spreading warmth around the room. He motions for you to sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet.

You lean back on your hands as you watch him pull one after the other crumbled-up shirt and pants out of the closet. He sends you a slightly embarrassed look and you hop off his bed.

"Let me have a look", you say softly, pushing him to the side.

"I'm sorry... It's a bit of a mess." He scratches the back of his neck as a slight blush colours his cheeks. 

You wave his worries away as you spot a nice pair of jeans and a not-too-crumpled black shirt. It could totally work paired with a dark green jacket. You lay out the pieces on his bed and look proudly between the outfit and Mattheo. It's something you're parents would approve of while still being himself

"If you wear this with the shirt tucked in and your hair just styled like you always do, everything will be okay." You turn towards him with a smile. 

While you were arranging the clothes, Mattheo snuck closer to you. He now stands so close to you, that you can smell his cologne. Your lips part as you look up at him. "Matt?", you whisper as he slowly cradles your face with both of his hands.

His eyes flicker from your eyes towards your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel soft puffs of breath on your face.

Mere millimetres before his lips touch yours, the door swings open and the two of you jump away from each other. "God fucking damn it", you hear him grumble under his breath as Enzo and Draco stand in the doorway.

The two boys look at you with wide eyes before Draco's expression morphs into something more teasing. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything", he says slyly, sending a smirk towards Mattheo. Who gives the blond a scalding glare.

Feeling way too awkward about the situation, you quickly gather your things. "I-I have to go. I wouldn't want to be late for my next class." Giving Mattheo a shy smile, you rush out of his dorm and the Slytherin common room — almost stumbling down and then up the stairs. 

Once you deem yourself far away enough, you slump against a wall and cup your scorching hot cheeks. Your heart beats wildly in your chest... and somewhere else. Did that really just happen? Or almost? In Merlin's name, when did you get so hot and bothered about Mattheo Riddle? Not long ago he was a nuisance to you. And now? Now you've almost kissed two times and he's meeting your parents this weekend.

When you close your eyes you still see Mattheo's warm honey ones, looking at you with such softness and want- no need. 

Gods.

Shaking your head, you steady yourself and with slightly unsteady legs you walk towards Arithmancy.

Meanwhile, back in the boy's dorm, Mattheo collapses onto his bed and curses out his friends. "Fucking twats!" He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, frustration running rampant through his body. 

This was the second time someone interrupted him trying to kiss you. Just when he has gathered the courage to do so. First your friends and now his own. Who out there has it so out for him to cockblock him two times.

Draco and Enzo just look with high amusement towards their frustrated-to-no-end friend. They're gonna take this moment and tease him forever with it.

You don't get a chance to talk to Mattheo about the kiss. To talk to him in general. Because every time the two of you spot each other, either his or your friends wisk you away and it's driving you mad. It's like they planned it together or something.

It makes you all sulky because you want to discuss what happened between the two of you multiple times. You want answers — which you are lowkey scared of. But it's better to rip the bandage off quickly and get your heart broken than live with questions and never get an answer.

You walk into the Great Hall that Saturday, your fingers anxiously clawing at the nailbeds. But you've taken precautions and bandaged up your thumbs so you can't scratch. The pain stays but there's no blood.

"Don't you look all lovely", smiles Hanah brightly, making you twirl. 

You smile and show her a cheeky leg as the split in your skirt falls perfectly when you sit. "Well...", you let out a nervous sigh, "Matt's meeting my parents today. So, we have to look the part, don't we?"

Your friends' eyes bulge out at the nickname you gave Slytherin bad boy Mattheo Riddle. Nobody ever dared to call him anything other than his name. 

"Is that why he was not-so-subtly sneaking glances at us before you came?", wonders Susan out loud, which makes you tense up.

Looking at the Slytherin table, you find Mattheo easily. He gives a small wave with a smile and you return the gestures. "I'm going to sit over there. I have to prepare him from the wolves."

Slowly, you rise from your table and walk to the other side of the Great Hall. You feel the eyes of the Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's on you. But the only important ones are Mattheo's liquid honey ones, who look at you in wonder.

"Hi", you whisper when you finally reach him.

"Hi", he whispers back, a wide smile on his face.

"Can I sit with you?"

Without hesitation, he nods and slides to the side, almost shoving Enzo into Blaise's lap. He pats the now-empty spot next to him and you swing your leg over the bench. Mattheo zero's in on your bare leg and his brain shortcircuits.

You try to ignore the weird looks the Slytherin's present are giving you as you reach over and grab a piece of toast. You meet Hannah and Susan's eyes from across the room and they give you enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Swallowing your bite, you turn towards the boy next to you to say something. But your words die on your tongue at the look Mattheo gives you. It's unreadable. But not bad unreadable. There is some fondness in there you believe. "I have to warn you, by the way."

He cocks his head to the side, an easy smile on his face. "For your parents?"

A snort escapes you and you shake your head. "No- well... maybe my dad will grill you. But my brothers are way worse. They will either try to embarrass me or you."

"How many do you have?"

"Brothers? Four. There's a twin pair in there too. They are the second youngest after me."

Mattheo pales slightly. Four brothers? He found Thomas already trouble enough. But Four? He knows he's in for some shit.

You can't help but laugh as he visibly pales. Taking his hand, you pat it. You look around the Slyherin's. They all look very amused at Mattheo's despair.

The two of you finish your breakfast before it's time to go. Your parents expect you for lunch but knowing your family, there's not going to be time during just lunch. 

"How are we getting to your home?", questions Mattheo as you both walk through the halls towards Professor Sproud's office. 

You knock on the door and when there's no answer, you enter the room. "Via portkey. Which should arrive any second now." And like you said, a little yellow cup appears on the desk. 

Placing a hand on the cup, you hold the other out for him to take. Mattheo does so and the two of you are whisked away from the castle.

You stumble for a second before you find your footing. Taking a deep breath, your senses fill with the floral aroma of your home. It feels good to be back.

"Holy fucking shit", you hear Mattheo whisper under his breath as he looks at the estate your family owns. It looks centuries old, with ivy covering most of the outer walls. A sprawling garden buzzes with bees and butterflies. A fountain is heard somewhere in the back.

You feel slightly embarrassed at Mattheo's slack jaw. This is mostly the reason why you never told about or took anyone home. The house mansion has been in your family's name for centuries. It's said that Meemaw bought it, but there's no proof of it.

"Come on." You tug him by his hand towards the front door. Mattheo's too caught up by the exterior of the house that he bumps into you when you stop in front of the front door. "Ready?", you ask, and he shakes his head.

As you ring the bell, Mattheo looks at the inscribing above the door. "Dum spiro spero, vi et animo. What does that mean?"

"As long as I breathe I hope, with strength and courage", says your father as he opens the door with a wide smile. "It's our family's motto. Nice to meet you, son." He holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake.

As he pulls the boy inside, you try your bestest to not cringe. "Dad this is Mattheo. My boyfriend." You shyly glance towards Mattheo to gauge his reaction. A slight blush paints his cheeks and you bite your lip hiding your smile.

Your dad shakes the dark-haired boy's hand enthusiastically. He starts to ramble off about the family motto and what it means and it morphs into an in-depth history lesson about the house. How the tiles and pillars in the foyer are at least four hundred years old and how they're kept in such fine condition by magic.

"Dad!", you call out, not having missed the hidden panicked looks Mattheo has given you, trying his best to look interested. "Don't you think it's a little early for Staghill History 101? Let the boy breathe."

Your father lets go of Mattheo with a jolly laugh, his moustache curling upwards. "You are right. I am so sorry, good chap. Why don't you two go to the library while I round up the twins? They're all very excited to meet him."

Tugging on Mattheo's hand, you nod. "Sure. Make sure they clean off any dirt before Mum has an aneurysm. Again."

As you lead him towards the south wing, you stop just outside of the library. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. My dad's a lot and he's just happy to see anyone and everyone. Could be Father Christmas with how jolly he is." You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, looking away.

Mattheo laughs. "It's okay. He's... nice. Now I get where you get it from."

"What?", you question with a cock of your head.

Mattheo wets his bottom lip, his eyes focused on yours. "That twinkle in your eyes when you talk about something you're passionate about." He reaches out for your flaming hot cheeks, cupping them.

The doors to your right swing open and the two of you feel like little children caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Your oldest brother, Felix, raises one disapproving brow and the two of you quickly step away from each other.

"Is it them? Don't hog the door, you big oaf!" Behind Felix appears Herbert, immediately engulfing you in a big, bone-crushing hug. 

"They were snogging", says Felix, walking back towards the couch he always sits on when he visits home. His comment earns him a swat from his wife next to him.

"We were not!", you protest scandalised, wrestling out of Herbert's hold. "We were just... It's none of your business what we were doing!" You grab Mattheo's hand and walk into the library, towards your mother.

He scoffs under his breath, mumbling; "You made it everybody's business when you let Meemaw catch you." That earns him another swat from his wife and a stern look from your mother. 

"Mum", you say after giving her a hug, tugging Mattheo closer, "I would like you to meet Mattheo."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am." Mattheo puts on his most charming smile while holding out his hand. 

Your mother shakes her head and gives him one of her signature warm hugs. "None of that! Call me Clementine. Or Clemmy. Or Ma. You're practically family now!"

You blanch, shrinking into yourself. Dear Lord. Why does your mom need to be so much?

Felix snorts. "Is he to stay? What happened to that bloke from Christmas?"

Yours and Mattheo's eyes meet and you purse your lips. "I rather not speak about it..."

That gets their attention, both men leaning forward in their seats. "What did he do?"

"Nothing!" You grow irritated at their endless questions as your mom ushers the two of you towards a couch. Sitting closely together, Mattheo lays a hand on your knee. You don't know if it's to comfort you or to ground himself.

Herbert studies the two of you with his eyes narrowed. He purses his lips while leaning back into the chair. "He beat the ex up, didn't he?"

"Oh, my Gods! Can you not play detective about my life? Stop talking about my ex with my new boyfriend right next to me", you scowl, not wanting the two of them to flip out over something that you're way past.

At that, your mother claps in her hands. "That's right! Mattheo, why don't you tell me something about yourself? What house are you in for instance?"

Mattheo glances nervously towards you and you lay a hand over his own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I'm in Slytherin, ma'am. I hope that isn't an issue."

Your mom chortles and waves his concern away. "Oh please, we aren't that kind of family."

"Speaking of family", pipes Herbert from across the room, "Who's family you belong to?"

Both your mom and you sputter and scold Herbert. But the twins coming in gives your brother his answer.

 "Why on Meemaw's good name is Mattheo Riddle sitting next to our sister?", sneers Victor, Danny leering over his shoulder.

A groan escapes you while you slink down the couch, hiding your face in your hands. You had hoped that Mattheo's family wouldn't be a subject. The twins are the only ones from your family who have seen the kind of nuisance Mattheo has been to you before leaving school last year. Of course, it looks very fucking weird that he is now cosying up to you, his hand on your knee and claiming to be your boyfriend.

You feel everybody's eyes on the two of you. Mattheo shrinks down under the many gazes, his hold on you tightening in a silent plea to not abandon him right now.

Not knowing how to get away under the scrutiny, you glance at your mom. She looks shocked and when she meets your eyes, her gaze softens before turning stern. "Didn't I always tell you boys to not judge people? What can the poor boy do about which cradle he was born into? So get off your high horses and be nice to the boy!" She stands with her hands on her hips, berating your brothers.

"What did I miss?", asks your father, standing in the doorway with a tray filled with cookies and teacups, the teapot floating behind him.

"Nothing", smiles your mother, turning towards you, "I was just saying that Mattheo should have a tour of the house. Why don't you do that, honey?"

Getting what she's implying, you nod exuberantly. "Yeah, right! Let's go." 

Mattheo's all too happy to escape the tense room and quickly follows after you, walking with a big arch around the twins, who are still glaring at him.

"I am so sorry." You cast your eyes towards the floor as the two of you walk through one of the many art-lined hallways. "I- There is no excuse for how they treated you..."

Mattheo's hand on your waist makes you stop and look up at him, unsheathed tears dancing in your waterline. He tuts, wiping away the single one that has managed to escape. "Don't cry, pretty girl. It's a warranted reaction. I'm used to it by now. How awkward it was anyways."

You pout while leaning into his hand. "That's horrible Matt. You don't deserve to be treated like that because your father made a wrong choice!"

"It was more than a wrong choice, lovely. Besides, there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, remember?" He laughs, but you see that there's sadness in his eyes.

With a shake of your head, you lean closer to him. "You aren't bad! Such a vile stereotype."

This time a genuine laugh bubbles out of Mattheo's chest. "Oh, sweet, sweet, Hufflepuff", he trances your cheek with the pads of his fingers, "there are many things that make me as bad as they say. Mostly for the thoughts I have about you."

Your brain short circuits and you blink up at him, processing his words. He has what? Heh?

Mattheo chuckles at your dumbfounded look. Oh, how cute you are when you are clueless. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. "Is there anything in particular you want me to see?", he asks, throwing you a bone.

That seems to snap you out of your daydream of what Mattheo could do to you and you shake your head. "Yes. There is one final person I have to introduce you to."

The two of you walk side by side as he studies both muggle and magical paintings. You lead him towards the main sitting with an empty frame with a chair hanging above the fireplace. Dragging an ottoman over, you motion for Mattheo to follow your lead and climb on top of the cushions.

"Meemaw", you call out towards the empty portrait, "I would like to meet someone."

It takes a second or two before your ancestor appears from the side, graciously draping herself and her skirts on the chair. "My littlest Badger! How are you, my dear?"

You lean closer, smiling. "Hello, Meemaw. I would like you to meet someone." You motion towards Mattheo, who looks with big eyes at her.

"Isn't that...?"

Heat spreads over your face and you bite your bottom lip. "I- yeah..."

"Mattheo Riddle, your ladyship." He bows slightly, earning a hearty laugh from her. 

"Aren't you a charmer? You musn't call me ladyship. Just Helga is fine. Or Meemaw, seeing as you are our littlest badger's love." She sends you a doting smile. "Say, if I may ask; aren't you one of Salazar's boys?"

"Yes. I hope that isn't an issue for you, Helga."

She waves his concerns away. It surprised you how easily Meemaw's taken by Mattheo. He's a naturally charming person when he wants to be after all.

"Oh, of course not, dear boy! Your great-grandfather and I had a... very special relationship of our own when we were younger. It warms my heart that our descendants have found each other." A fond look paints her face as she looks off in the distance. 

As a melancholy glimmer befalls her, you take that as your cue to leave. "I have to continue my tour of the house, Meemaw. See you later."

Waving her off, you hop off the ottoman and put it back in the right place before exiting the sitting room. A sigh escapes your lips and you swing your arms back and forth. Mattheo gives you a raised brow before taking your hand in his and continuing the swinging.

It's nice. The two of you just walking and talking about nothing special in particular. You sometimes point out some facts about you growing up around the house. "In that room, we always used to build pillow forts in." Or "I once ran against that door and lost both my front teeth. They were loose anyways", you add quickly at his concerned look.

Everything's so easy with Mattheo that it scares you. How are you supposed to go back to strangers after your arrangement has come to an end? Can you even go back to strangers? Even if Mattheo doesn't feel the same, you wish you at least could stay friends. Because he's genuinely a nice person to hang out with. It would sadden you to lose him.

The ring of a bell plucks you from your thoughts and you turn towards where the sound came from. "Oh! Dinner's ready." You lead the both of you towards the dining room, taking shortcuts and hidden doors. Mattheo chuckles as you press open another hidden panel before finally arriving in said room.

Out of habit, you go to sit at your usual place at the table and Mattheo follows you. But as he pulls the chair back, Danny is quick to sit in it. After sending a glare at your brother, you look apologetic towards the dark-haired boy. His eyes scan the room and the only free seat is right in front of you, between Herbert and Felix. 

Mattheo sighs and takes place on the empty seat. He feels your brothers stare at him, and he does his best to try and act normal. He smiles politely and answers any questions your mother asks him. Eventually, he learns that — who he believes is Felix — is a beater for the Caerphilly Catapults. His wife plays for the Holyhead Harpies and that's how they met each other. 

Dinner seems to pass by smoothly — not counting the snarky remarks of the twins. But they're dicks. As everybody starts to collect the dishes, your father clears his throat. "Why don't you all go outside and...", he glances towards Mattheo, "Take a lap around the fountain so Mattheo and I can have a heart-to-heart."

Both you and Mattheo send slightly panicked looks towards each other as he gets led away by your father. As your brothers let out an 'oooh', you jab Danny in his side with your elbow. He rubs his side with a slight pout and you poke out your tongue. 

"The last one is a rotten egg!", yells Victor and he sprints towards the back door. You let out a curse and start sprinting after him, the others following. 

While you and your brothers race towards the burrow, Mattheo gets led towards your father's office. He anxiously takes place in the chair in front of your father's desk. The man leans forward and studies the Slytherin boy with narrowed eyes. 

"What are your intentions with my daughter?", he asks, getting straight to the point. 

What are his intentions? Well... he can think of a few things. But none are parent-approved answers. "I like her. I really do, Sir. I wouldn't dare to hurt her." Because that is the truth. He always had a crush on you, but getting to know you? You're everything and so much more than he imagined. 

Your father hums. "I ask this because I have received some chatter that you've been in a... physical altercation with one Malcolm Preece. So, Mattheo, what is the deal with that?" He leans back in the leather chair, one brow raised.

For the first time in a while, Mattheo feels genuinely nervous. And it's not the same kind of nervous before he took you out on your first date. No. This is a different kind of nervousness. A deep-down fear to disappoint the people who he cares about. 

And yes, you are one of those people he realises. He cares about you the most.

Lying will do no good. Because, as your father has shown, he somehow has a way to get information about what happens at school. "In all honesty, sir, Preece was threatening your daughter. They broke up and he kept bothering her. It... indeed got physical because some guys don't know when to take a hint." 

Your father purses his lips, his eyes scanning over Mattheo's face. Searching for a sign of dishonesty. But he finds none. 

"Did you at least get him good?"

That makes the dark-haired boy laugh. "Yes, sir. He won't dare to bother her again."

Your father stands up from his chair and holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake. With a smile and a firm handshake, he says, "You did good son. Now, I believe someone's way too anxious to wait a second longer." He points towards the door, where a shadow is seen pacing under through the crack.

Mattheo closes the door behind him and sees you look at him with wide eyes, chewing on your thumb. "How did it go? What did Dad say?" You fling your arms around him and press your cheek against his shoulder.

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. "Don't worry. Everything's fine." When you look up at him, he cradles your face and wipes away some stray dirt. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it", he smiles.

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile. "Fine. You know what, if we leave now, we maybe have some time left before curfew."

A smirk grows on Mattheo's face while he wetts his bottom lip. "And do what?"

"I don't know", you shrug playfully, pulling him with you, "We will see."

"Absolutely not", says your mother when you come and say your goodbyes. "Your room is already set up. Fresh sheets and everything! Wasn't that clear from my letter?"

Your eyes dart nervously towards Mattheo, who gives you the same look. You silently ask him if he's okay with it. If he's not uncomfortable. He shrugs. He's not too bothered by the idea of staying over.

A sigh escapes you. "Fine. But we don't have anything to sleep in."

Your mother claps in her hands and gets up from the couch, motioning for the both of you to follow her. She leads you through the house, towards your bedroom. 

The smell of clean cotton hits you as soon as you enter your room and you breathe in the smell. That's one of the many things you miss about your home. The house elves of Hogwarts don't use the same detergent as your mother and it just hits a special spot in your brain when you finally smell it.

"I'll grab a pair of Felix's clothes for you, Mattheo." Your mother pats his shoulders before exiting the room.

The boy in question stands in the middle of your bedroom and a smile grows on his face. He can't explain why but it so much you. In the short period he has gotten to know you, this is exactly the type of room he imagined you to have. Maybe with fewer plants.

A four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room, facing a fireplace. On top of the bed grows some hanging plants that spread onto the walls and turn into wallpaper. There's a cosy-looking chair next to the fireplace with tons of pillows and blankets. 

You watch him eyeing the chair and you mention towards it. "You can sit in it if you want. It gives you also a really nice view over the garden." 

Mattheo does so, burying himself between the pillows. The garden is almost too perfect with the way it's lit up by floating lights and lightningbugs. When he looks back at you to comment on the beautifulness, he sees you pull away the many pillows from your bed into a trunk at the front of your bed and readying the bed for sleeping.

"I... I can sleep on the ground- if you're more comfortable with that. I could even fall asleep in this chair."

You stop what you're doing and look at him with such a scandalised look that it makes him shrink. "Uhm how about no? I dragged you into this, like hell I let you sleep on the floor!"

Your mother comes back at the right time with a pair of joggers and a shirt in her hands. She gives him a warm smile as she hands him the clothing, instructing him to where the bathroom is. Mattheo takes that as his saving grace to get a moment of his own. He has to admit, your family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot. And he has nobody to blame for it except himself.

Not that he blames himself. He's quite enjoying himself, being with you, meeting your parents and seeing where you grew up. He now gets why you are how you are. How you can shine so bright because your parents do everything to lighten you.

When he comes back you are also changed in quite the same outfit as him. You are sitting on your bed, nervously nibbling on the side of your thumb. He strides towards you and grabs your hand, stopping you from destroying your nailbed and making you look up at him.

"Are you okay", he asks, interlacing your fingers.

You nod with a hum, eyes focused on your interlinked hands. "Yeah... I'm just tired from today." You run a hand over your hair, brushing some stray strands out of your face. "Are you okay?"

Mattheo lets out a light-hearted scoff. "Don't worry about me, lovely. My family is much much worse."

You blink, wanting to ask more. But a knock on your door stops you. Your father stands in the door opening, Victor looming over his shoulder and glaring daggers at Mattheo. 

"Will you do your old man a favour and keep the door open? I know it makes you uncomfortable, hun. But I don't think I have to explain why?" He motions with his eyes towards how close the two of you are and with a sigh, you nod.

The house is so old that it creaks and groans with even the slightest breeze. And it freaks you out when you hear it at night. Are you saying that this centuries-old house doesn't have ghosts? Likely.

As your dad walks away, Victor takes a step forward, his jaw taut. "You", he points towards the dark-haired boy, "I'm right next door and these walls aren't as thick as they seem. I will hear everything. No funny business!"

Mattheo sends him a charming smile that you know will irritate Victor. "I promise." But when he turns around when Victor storms away, he shows you his crossed fingers. You let out a giggle and swat him.

After that you take it as a cue to get ready to sleep so you crawl under the covers. Mattheo positions himself between you and the open door and the two of you lay on your backs, staring up at the canopy. 

It... feels weird having Mattheo Riddle next to you in your bed. The even weirder feeling is the desire to keep him there.

You turn so you're facing him, your hands tucked under your pillow. "I've been wondering... When you spoke in Parsletongue, what did you say?"

Mattheo tenses slightly before turning towards you, a pink flush heats up his cheeks. His eyes trace every inch of your face, taking in the details; moles, freckles, perfect imperfections. It makes him want to reach out and trace every one of them.

"Oh I don't remember", he says offhandedly, his eyes fleeing yours.

You scoot closer, a mischievous smile on your face. "Yes, you do! Please tell me. It can't be that embarrassing."

His lips part and the same sounds fill the room, raising goosebumps on your arms. "You are... you are the most beautiful person I know and I don't know if I can keep pretending that this is fake."

Your smile melts off your face and you look with wide eyes towards him. An unsure look fills his eyes as his brows knit together. "Say something", he whispers- begs. A hesitant hand reaches out and gets placed on your cheek.

Your heart beats a million miles an hour and every word just escapes your brain. So you do what you have been wanting to do for a while now. And you kiss him. Pressing your lips against his, you close your eyes while your hand travels from his wrist to his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

Mattheo lets out a surprised humph, his eyes wide as he watches your eyes flutter close. He breathes in deeply before kissing you back, pulling you closer.

Two pairs of lips mould against each other while Mattheo's hand slides down and grips your thigh, wrapping your leg around his middle. Your body melts against his as the kiss grows more fierce, lips parting and tongues exploring each other's mouths. 

A low growl emits from Mattheo as you part, your chest raising and falling rapidly. He zeros in on your neck and decides then and there how kissable the skin looks and that it needs to be marked.

Your head gets thrown back as Mattheo attacks your neck with kisses, licks and bites and you do your best to suppress the breathy moan that wants to escape you. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze close. 

Mattheo's lips travel down, tracing the shape of your throat with his teeth and he flips the both of you over, hovering above you. He relishes in your bitten raw lips and the half-lidded look you give him. The way your chest raises and makes your shirt tighten... he thanks whatever god there is out there that made this possible.

His admiring takes too long in your opinion and you grab the back of his head, yanking him down so he kisses you again. Mattheo complies and cradles your face, his big hands engulfing your cheeks, feeling the heat underneath them. 

He pecks your lips a few times before trailing down, Mattheo's hands finding the hem of your sleep shirt. He glances at you and only continues after a nod. He pushes your shirt up, above your breast while his lips trail from your chin, neck, and collarbones, to your sternum. 

When he flattens his tongue tentatively against one of your nipples, a moan escapes you. It makes him smirk against your skin, doing it again. 

"Matt... ah!", you squeak out, gripping his shoulder.

His tongue swirls against the nub and one of his hands reaches up, clasping a hand over your mouth to silence the sweet noises pouring out of your mouth. Your tongue swipes over one of his fingers. Mattheo presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger against your tongue before sliding into your mouth.

A 'mmph' escapes you while you suck around his digits, hands trying to ground yourself as everything feels too much; his tongue against your boob, his fingers in your mouth, and something hard pressing against your core. 

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and your nails rake up against his bare back. He moans against you and releases your nipple with a 'pop'. He looks at you with dark eyes and swollen lips while he lowers himself towards your core.

While his fingers dance over the elastic of your underwear, you push his fingers out of your mouth. "Matt wait..."

As if your words scorched him, he's off you immediately, his chest raising rapidly and face flushed. "I'm-I'm sorry. I got a little carried away..."

You sit up, pushing your shirt down and shaking your head. "No... please don't- it's okay. I-I enjoyed it too. It's just...", you cradle his face and peck his lips, "I don't want our first time to be in my childhood bedroom and avoid making too much noise."

Mattheo leans into your touch and kisses your palm. You pull him down with you and lay on top of his chest. When you move your legs, you accidentally bump against his boner. You sputter out an apology, feeling bad for blue-balling him.

His hands grab your hips tightly and he presses you closer against his body. He brings his lips towards your ear. "Don't worry about it, Princess. Because when I have the chance, I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget our whole relationship was fake to begin with."

Oh Gods, you created a monster... 

Tag list (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12 @alnitakstarsky03 @mel-vaz @slytherinboysappreciation @sailtomarina @bubybubsters @jasmine2105 @abaker74 @lovelyygirl8 @vickykazuya @eltrss @llpovi@m1kasawps @sol3chu @ledtassoo @itsarajr @glittervame

[headlines-headlines]

REST & RECOVERY.

𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

★ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲! You were almost too used to seeing Tanjiro in a battered state, suppressing your feelings every time the slayer was sent on a mission. Enduring constant sleepless nights, praying he'd make it back in one piece. Just how oblivious was he to your aching heart? Is there a way Tanjiro could ever make it up to you?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! female bodied reader, very slightly tsun reader (i can’t help itt), smut (dur), recovering tanjiro, sneaky sex, lovemakinggg, piningggg, slight angst, pet name use, raw sex. All characters are of the appropriate age in this work.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.5k (why am I allergic to writing short fics...)

𝐚/𝐧: call me butter cuz i'm on a rollllll. lol, tried adding more feelings to this one, sooo enjoy!! ;) (divider: @cafekitsune)

Kneeling on the cool wooden walkway outside the Butterfly Mansion, your hands scrubbed at the stubborn stains that clung to soaking garments. You let your thoughts pass peacefully, slipping into a tranquil daze as you focused on the task at hand, dutifully completing your chores whilst the other attendants worked within the Mansion.

It was another quiet, sunny afternoon, with the sounds of cooking, cleaning, and light chatter echoing around the estate. Views of the lush greenery in the courtyard welcomed a serene atmosphere, a stark contrast to the bickering and yelling that normally surrounded you when your slayer friends were all under the same roof. The lively trio you knew and loved were away on another mission, their longest one yet, and the uncertainty of their well-being lightly tugged at your heartstrings— a sensation you were no stranger to at this point. Each mission was riskier than the last, the boys sporting insane injuries upon their return, nearly fatal each time. Especially Tanjiro, his protective and righteous nature always causing him to suffer the brunt of whatever attacks were thrown towards his teammates.

You quickly shook your head, clearing your mind of the incoming gruesome images, and just decided to enjoy the temporary quiet in the meantime, knowing they would soon return. Hopefully safe and sound. Although, deep down, you knew the chances of a bloody aftermath were too high to ignore.

The soft sounds of splashing water and foaming soap filled your ears, slowly drawing you back into the present, until you could sense a commotion drawing near.

A panicked, frenzy of clashing voices grabbed your attention, sending you scrambling to your feet, almost knocking over the bucket full of laundry and water. It seemed as if a small mob was forming just behind the other side of the gate, forcing the kakushi from inside the manor to hurriedly rush past you and towards the source of all the racket. You were hearing buzzwords like 'medic!', 'help!', 'quickly!', being shouted full of urgency and alarm.

'What on earth was happening??' You thought to yourself, stunned as you watched the fearsome scene unfold before your eyes. The gates were flung open, numerous kakushi shouldering the weight of badly injured swordsmen, bringing them into the estate.

Your stomach sunk, seeing your friends' faces scrunched up in agony, expressions of pain and exhaustion written all over them. Your eyes landed on a familiar redhead, with his sister's arms wrapped around his midsection, guiding his battered body towards the mansion with the help of other kakushi.

'Tanjiro!' You screamed internally, a hand raised to cover your mouth, which hung open in shock. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest at the sight of him. He was definitely alive, but it seemed as if the beatings he had received had left him on right on death's doorstep. To your horror, the other two of the trio, Zenitsu and Inosuke, looked equally wounded. Dried and smeared blood, deep scratches, broken bones, darkening bruises, it was all too much to witness. You could never get used to seeing them like this, it was so frightening each time.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you flew off the walkway, rushing towards the swordsmen. Your sandals hit the ground as you ran, kicking up dirt in its wake. A barely conscious Tanjiro lifted his head ever so slightly to watch as your figure approached him, cracking a pained smile at the sight of you.

His vision was blurry as ever, but it was hard to ignore the aura of worry and panic that surrounded you, his dear friend. He hated having to return to you in such a state, however he knew this result came with the territory of being a demon slayer.

"[F/n]..., I'm back," his hoarse, broken voice greeted you. "We did it." Those few words, full of grief-stricken triumph, were the most he could muster as he started to slip in and out of consciousness.

"Tanjiro! Oh Gods...," jumbled speech tumbled past your lips. Your hands immediately came up to touch him, but stopped short of his torn jacket, afraid to make contact. You glanced at Nezuko, her sorrowful eyes meeting your own. You took a moment to look at the rest of her. Although her injuries were nearly healed, you could see the remnants of a fierce battle in the state of her clothing. A bloodied, ruined yukata, disheveled hair, and light scratches slowly dissolving into her skin. Tears pricked at your eyes, welling up and blurring your vision. But you held them back, assuming the position of the kakushi at Tanjiro's side, shouldering his weight and trudging towards the infirmary together.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

The past few weeks were trying, filled with suturing, bandaging, and administering healing balms to the injured boys, making sure they were on the path to a full recovery. As a non-combative slayer in the Butterfly Mansion, your role was mostly dedicated to research and drug experimentation alongside the insect Hashira Shinobu. However, in cases like these, medical aid was another duty you were expected to carry out, luckily for you, it was one of your strong suits.

There was almost no end to the bloodied sheets and tools, but alas, you knew you needed to be the one to do the job. But to the boys' dismay, after providing them with their much needed medical care, you would swiftly exit as quickly as you entered. You no longer lingered around to chat, becoming less and less fond of being faced with evidence of their impending ruin. Graphic imagery was not something you could easily stomach, despite all your experience, and the jarring feeling of knowing your loved ones may one day be ripped away from you—again, hardened your heart into stone.

Your growing distance did not go unnoticed, especially not by Tanjiro. He started to pick up on your curt responses whenever you were around long enough to talk. Not even humoring the bickering sessions that Zenitsu or Inosuke would engage in, like you usually would. Now avoiding his eyes, a notable difference compared to the times you would gaze at him with such tenderness. His warmth seemed to hit a wall with you, unable to reach. It deeply saddened him, the thick scent of sorrow following you everywhere you went. He couldn't help but feel, guilty, hoping he wasn't burdening you with the traumatic aftermath of his battles. He was at a standstill, unable to figure out what he could do to make it up to you. He missed your affection more than you knew, and was going to earn it back. Some way, somehow.

Deep orange hues of a setting sun streamed in through the windows, illuminating the infirmary with a warm glow as the three men lay sleeping in their beds, quiet snores reverberating in the room. They had been healing quite well, gaining back their energy little by little, however, the strength of the medicinal teas and serums they were frequently ordered to ingest could easily knock out an adult horse.

"Thanks Aoi," you whispered, grabbing the pail of water and clean rags from your friend. Your voices were hushed as to not wake up the sleeping swordsmen.

"No problem. But let me know if you need any help, okay? You don't have to do this all by yourself y'know...," Aoi replied, a look of concern gracing her features.

"It's alright. Wouldn't be the first time," You laughed dryly, shooting her a half-hearted smile, as to not worry her any further.

"Okay, if you say so," she said softly, a bittersweet tone in her voice as she left you to work.

Turning to face your sleeping friends, you sighed as you quietly pulled up a chair next to their beds, rags and pail in hand. You started with Zenitsu, moving his blonde locks away from his forehead to run a cool, damp rag across his face, wiping away sweat and bringing down his temperature. You moved his blanket down to reach his neck, and any exposed skin around the chest area of his sleepwear, then folded the cloth into a neat rectangle to place above his brow. The same routine was repeated for Inosuke, moving his mask further away from his pillow to give you some space to work. Last was Tanjiro. Hesitantly, you approached his bed and sat in your chair next to him.

Solemnly, you watched how his chest rose and fell, a peaceful expression on his face as he slept, hinting nothing of the horrors he had seen not too long ago. His deep crimson hair framed his handsome features, luring you in to brush any wayward strands from his face. It would be an understatement to say you missed him while he was away. It was a little unfair to the other two, but Tanjiro's presence was special to you. His ability to ease your mind and comfort you so willingly whenever you needed him, drew the two of you closer. Whether it was engaging in playful banter, or sharing a long conversation to alleviate the stress of your day-to-day duties, you could always count on the redhead to brighten your day. It surprised you a little— just how quick he could coax you out of your reserved demeanor. A hand on your shoulder or a warm hug immediately melting your stern exterior. But you no longer allowed yourself to openly indulge, only yielding when you were alone or he was asleep, unable to question your behavior.

Bringing the dampened cloth to his face, you gingerly wiped his skin. Your touches were gentle, afraid to hurt him any further, as if he would break if you pressed hard enough. You admired his unwavering strength and resilience, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing how much he had to endure. But without skipping a beat, he'd always come back to you, facing everyone with the same warm smile and firm optimism.

As you cleaned him, your mind wandered to your past conversations, eventually bringing you back to your most recent chat, occurring the night before he left.

★ ★ ★

It was pretty late, and Tanjiro happened to be awake, unable to sleep after much tossing and turning. Certain things had been weighing heavily on his mind, so he figured it would help to sit outside for a bit. Enjoying some fresh air and admiring the nighttime view of the estate would surely do him some good.

On the other hand, after working tirelessly for several hours on a new concoction in the butterfly lab, you decided to call it a night, making a few stops on the way back to your room. That's when you had found him outside, a scolding already waiting for him on the tip of your tongue.

But as sharp as ever, Tanjiro had already sensed your presence, turning to greet you.

"Oh! Hello [F/n]," He softly called out to you with a smile. "Couldn't sleep either?"

After seeing him in such a relaxed state, you bit back the fierce lecture you intended to give him, instead opting to park next to him with a sigh. He wasn't disturbing anyone, so you would just let him be for now.

"I was stuck in the lab all day. But unlike someone, I was actually heading to bed just now," you chided, giving a playful roll of your eyes.

He chuckled a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement at your faux attitude. He never took your sternness personally, knowing there was a sweet side of you hidden just beyond the surface.

"Well I'm glad you decided to join me, it's always nice to see you," he replied warmly, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You ignored the blush threatening to creep up your cheeks. It's like he knew exactly what to say to make you feel all flustered and clammy.

"Yeah yeah, It's nice seeing you too," you murmured, breaking his strong gaze to focus on something else, like the way his sleep shirt lightly billowed in the cool night air. "But seriously, why are you out here so late? You know lights out was a while ago, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he began, his tone taking a more somber turn. "If I'm being honest, ...I've been struggling to sleep for a while. After each mission, it's gotten harder to shake some of the things I've seen." His brow was furrowed in deep thought, and you could practically see the images flickering through his brain of past encounters with demons.

Your heart faltered a bit. You knew killing such unsightly creatures must've taken an enormous toll on him. His mental fortitude was unlike anything you’ve ever seen, however, his tattered body and soul after each mission couldn’t be ignored.

Scooting a little closer, you reached out and placed a light hand on his shoulder, in an effort to comfort him.

“I’m sorry to hear that Tanjiro… I wish you would’ve let me know sooner,” you said, patting his shoulder & looking back into his eyes with all the sincerity you could muster.

“I know I probably can’t help with the mental part of your missions, but it’s my job to make sure you recover physically too. And that includes sleeping properly. If there’s anything, and I mean anything you need from me, don’t hesitate to let me know… because I do… care about you and whatnot…” you stated, trailing off a little towards the end. However, you maintained an expression of deep concern and seriousness, hoping your words reached him. You wanted him to understand you would be there for him no matter what. Not just as another member of the corps, but as his friend.

Tanjiro’s eyes widened for a moment, mouth slightly agape from processing your words. But without skipping a beat, a look of genuine happiness washed over his face. His gentle smile returned, and his hand came up to softly pat the top of your head.

“I appreciate that, [F/n]. I’m glad to have a wonderful friend like you by my side,” He replied, gently smoothing your strands. He watched a look of relief brighten up your beautiful features. In truth, he held back the urge to state that he did need something from you. More than just your medical care and aid. He knew that deep down, he wanted a place in your heart. Even though the trials and tribulations of being a demon slayer often broke it. But he held his tongue, knowing he would be asking for too much. He could not guarantee you the love you deserved, much less his own life after each mission. But it was why he fought so hard each time, to protect the ones he loved. To protect you.

Meanwhile, you were tempted to swat his hands away from your scalp. But you had to admit, it felt pretty nice. You secretly relished in the moments where Tanjiro would dote on you, as an affectionate older brother would. Not that you would ever tell him such a thing.

“Of course. Anytime,” you replied.

You both sat there for a moment, gazes turning back to the pretty moonlight illuminating the courtyard. Not realizing how close the two of you had become. Physically.

Tanjiro’s arm had wrapped around your back in a side embrace, a hand cupping your right arm comfortably. You leaned on his chest, his shoulder supporting your head. You nestled more into the heat of his body, soothed by the light drum of his heartbeat. And you both stayed like that for a while. Not speaking, simply enjoying each other’s company.

It didn’t occur that you should be leaving, until your eyes snapped open, the muted hues from the approaching sunrise invading your vision.

Did you doze off? Goodness, for how long?? You could feel Tanjiro’s cheek & chin basically forming an imprint atop your head from the weight of his body. His arms totally enveloped your figure in a bear-hug embrace. Was he always this heavy? Or was it because he was so… close?

At least he smelled good. Really good too. Smoky undertones, with notes of light wisteria emanated from him and clung to his night shirt. And just when did you wrap your arms around his waist, cuddling him so tightly? It was certainly too late— er, rather too early to be out here. You both should’ve been on your way to bed by now.

Hastily unwrapping your body from his grasp, you happened to wake up the also snoozing Tanjiro, who reluctantly came to after feeling the loss of your body heat. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed your frazzled state.

“Mmh… [F/n]? What’re you—“

“Uh— I should go.” You blurted out, face exploding with heat at the realization of you spending most of the night with him. A little disoriented, you quickly rose to your feet, smoothed a hand over your clothes, and shot him a quick ‘goodbye!’ before speeding off in the direction of your room.

Tanjiro watched you leave, quite abruptly in fact, and couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself, the scent of embarrassment right on your tail.

★ ★ ★

You had just finished wiping down the three young men in the infirmary room, and was now in the process of gathering your things to leave, when the sound of rustling sheets caught your attention. You quickly glanced in the direction of the noise, only to be met with the familiar sleeping faces of the injured men.

A sigh of relief escaped you and you turned back around, continuing to place all used cloths into the bucket.

“[F/n]..?”

Tanjiro’s voice, laced with raspiness from his slumber, called out your name.

You chose not to engage, turning on your heel to leave, before he called out to you again.

“[F/n], wait— don’t leave. Please.” He pleaded softly, his voice dropping in volume. He just wanted a little more of your time. He regret that he couldn’t prolong your tender touch, aware that it was you who cared for him a few minutes ago.

Facing him, you could see the heavy disappointment pooling in his eyes, and consequently, averted yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, and instead, waited for him to speak.

He arose from his cot slowly, his feet meeting the cool wooden floor before he fully stood, lightly stretching his limbs with a yawn. His sleeping shirt was left atop his sheets, allowing you to see his broad chest and abdomen— peppered with long-faded bruises and scar tissue resembling the shape of slashes. His battle scars. His pajama pants hung loosely around his hips, encouraging your eyes to follow the path where his skin dipped underneath, the defined shape of a v protruding from—

‘What am I doing? I should wrap this up quick so I can go’

You dismissed any wayward thoughts crossing your mind, ignoring the creaking of the floorboards as he made his way over to you.

“[F/n]…”

Gods, he needed to stop saying your name like that. Softening his voice to damn near a whisper, trying to coax you out of your hiding place, as if you were a stray kitten.

You kept your eyes trained on the skin of his chest, which was a foot or two away from your face now.

“Are you… upset with me?” Tanjiro looked down to find you refusing to meet his eyes, reaching forward when a few strands of hair fell in front of your face as you looked down at your socks.

You paused for a moment, chewing your bottom lip, trying to gather your thoughts. He was standing so close, and you imagined how mortifying it would be if he saw your quickly reddening face. You almost didn’t register the swipe of his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear.

“No, Tanjiro. I just— I don’t think we should talk… well, not about this, not here…,” your thoughts came out jumbled, and you were suddenly having such a hard time speaking.

Without much of a response, the redhead took your hand in his, and started off in a random direction away from the infirmary, tugging you along with him.

“Woah—! Can you slow down?”

He didn’t answer. His grip was firm and unchanging, and you found yourself being yanked in the direction of a supply closet, to then be pulled inside with him.

In total darkness, there were sounds of a door clicking shut and some shuffling, before the cord to a lamp was pulled, illuminating the confined space.

You’ve only been in this closet maybe a handful of times? Just to quickly grab medical supplies, cleaning materials, and other miscellaneous items that lined the shelves on the wall— in instances where you couldn’t make it to the larger ones. You kept your trips short due to the the restricted amount of space in the room, which could probably only hold around 5-6 people (un)comfortably. Needless to say, the proximity between the two of you shrunk further than what it was in the infirmary.

“…Tanji—”

“Why have you been avoiding me, [F/n]?” Tanjiro placed both of his hands on your shoulders.

For a second, you thought he was going to rattle you back and forth like a snow globe. Or even gift you with one of his famous headbutts. However, he held a serious expression, eyes scanning your face for signs of an answer, any indication of what was brewing inside that head of yours. With his sense of smell, he could pick up on inklings of several emotions. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. Even guilt. As well as something else he couldn’t quite place a finger on, its depth was strange and confusing. 

You snapped your head up to meet him,  a look of incredulity as clear as day. There was no way he could be so clueless.

"Are you kidding me?" You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him. "Am I just supposed to sit by and watch you get killed?"

Tanjiro had to admit, he was a little taken aback. He was moreso expecting you to lash out about something he may have said or done, much less a fear of something so gruesome. You watched his shoulders fall a bit, concern now paintings features. Not waiting for a response, you continued.

"I'm not sure I can do this anymore... watching you all suffer like that… so often...," you struggled to finish, taking a step back. Your throat closed up each time you attempted to swallow the lump lodged in it. Several memories of the boys returning within an inch of their lives, flooded your mind. Burning tears welled up quickly, and you forcefully blinked them back. 

"I don't know how much more I can take...," your voice cracked. Hot, fat droplets began to roll down the curve of your cheeks, streaking your face with tears. 

You felt strong arms gently pulling you into his chest, and wrapping around your back. Your face was pressed to his warm skin, tears staining the area.

"Oh [F/n]... I'm so sorry... I didn't know." He consoled you while you quietly sniffled, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions crashing over you in waves. His hands rubbed giant circles around your back, coming up to cradle your head. "I didn't know you were suffering so much, and all alone..."

"What would I do? If you never came back?...How am I supposed to move on?"  You hiccuped, your words muffled the way you hid your face so deeply, flushed with embarrassment.

"It's okay," He whispered into your hair, lightly rocking you from side to side. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'm sorry I've made you worry so much, love." 

You pulled back a bit, craning your head up to examine his features. He gazed upon you with such heartfelt concern, that you had no other option but to let your hardened exterior melt away once more.

"You promise?" You repeated. One of his hands came up to swipe away drying tears with his thumb, holding your face in his palm. The other was placed at the small of your back.

"I promise."

Your eyes trailed from his burgundy orbs to his warm smile, and down to the taut chest with your now-dry tears displayed.

His thumb inched closer to your puffy lips, smoothing over your bottom lip, eyes trained on your little pout. Everything about you was undeniably beautiful. His heart soon became heavy. He couldn't believe he was the source of so much of your pain, and better yet, failed to notice your suffering. His pretty companion. Tanjiro intended to rectify the situation in any way he could.

The complicated scent his nose was picking up on earlier had grown tremendously, now a bit more recognizable. You were sexually frustrated in a way, with all these negative feelings suppressing any urge you had to express romance, affection, or anything similar. He would take care of that. He would take care of you.

"Can I make it up to you, [F/n]?" He breathed, his eyes low. It was more of a suggestion than a question, as he leaned in, taking note of the way your eyes had already fluttered closed, anticipating the touch of his lips.

"Ye— mmph!" Your reply was cut short with the soft collision of his lips on yours. You couldn't deny the way you wanted him, locking lips in a rhythmic fashion, and following his lead. The kiss was romantic, passionate, with feelings of warmth and desperation seeping through. His rough hands trailed down to grab the flesh of your ass, palming and squeezing it. You let soft, wanton moans slip past your mouth, and he swallowed them all, tongue now hotly wrestling with yours. 

His hand trailed back upwards to undo the knot in the back of your apron, pulling away to slip it off, then reattaching his lips to yours.

The apron lay discarded on the floor as you continued to lock lips with the redhead, pants and heated breaths now filling the small space.

Pulling away, Tanjiro admired the way you looked. So soft and sweet, he wanted to shower you in affection. He knew it wouldn't make up for the pain you've experienced, however he was determined to try. He placed a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, hands caressing the sides of your face, then holding the first button of your jacket between his fingers.

"Can I?" The request came. He needed to know you were okay with this, and if you'd allow him to take care of you in any way he could.

"Yeah," you nodded, a little bashfully. You couldn't really look him in the eyes while he unbuttoned your uniform jacket, revealing the bindings you wore underneath, holding your breasts.

Tanjiro smiled softly, finding your slight embarrassment to be endearing.

"You know, every inch of you is beautiful," he began, as your eyes rose to meet his. "I'd like to prove it to you, if you'd let me."

Hands trailed up your waist, cupping your tits through the fabric, squeezing and slipping underneath to meet skin. He pulled you in more, with a hand returning to the small of your back, and the other pawing at your breast, finding the nipple and lightly tweaking it. Chaste, warm kisses trailed from your jawline down to your collarbone, and you felt yourself arching into him, melting under his touch. You allowed his hands to roam freely, slipping off your bindings, and holding your tits in place for his mouth to latch on.

The temperature in the closet soared, and you felt as if most of it was condensed within your body, the way Tanjiro's touches lit you on fire. You were struggling to keep quiet, even more so when you felt the rough pads of his fingers slip past the waistband of your skirt and panties, finding your clit.

"Oh... fuckkk," you drawled, feeling his fingers rubbing circles on your sensitive nub. His breath fanned your neck as he pressed his body to yours, fingers keeping a steady pace. Your hips had a mind of their own, bucking into his hand a few times, whines and gasps falling past your lips. Jolts of electrifying pleasure shot through you, and you could feel yourself coating his fingers with your slick the more he rubbed your pussy.

"Pleasepleaseplease..." you begged, rocking your hips more into his hand while he held you in place. You were almost there.

"That's it, keep going my love," Tanjiro doted on you, encouraging you to chase your high under him.

The tightness in the pit of your abdomen grew, your cunt spasming around him. You couldn't hold back much longer.

"C-cummingg, i'm cumminggg," you whined, eyes fluttering as you let the tension snap, creaming on his fingers.

Tanjiro felt you coming undone, rubbing your wetness around the opening of your entrance. He used the lubrication to push in a middle finger into your heat, feeling how you tightened around the intrusion.

"Good girl, you can give me another one right?" he praised you.

You groaned at the feeling of being stretched open with only a single finger, an orgasm softening the sensation. Curling it, his finger rubbed against your plush walls, soon being joined by another, then another, making it a tight fit. Your head lolled back, the sounds of your sopping wet cunt filling your ears. You lifted a leg around his hip, for easier access, as he steadily pumped in and out. His eyes were trained on you, watching your expression as you mindlessly ground into his hand more, still recovering from when you first came. You were already reaching your next peak rapidly, struggling to catch your breath.

"Hnghh... Again... it's gonna– i'm gonna-!" Your words melted into gibberish as you found yourself cumming again, quiet, broken cries of Tanjiro's name on your tongue.

He shuddered, feeling how you twitched underneath him. His cock was straining freely in his pants, pressed against against your hip. He wasn't wearing any undergarments to catch the weeping drops of precum you elicited from him.

Picking your head up, you gazed at him with a hazy look in your eyes, cheeks rosy with an afterglow. He wanted to picture you like this forever, a beauty nestled in his arms.

Hooking his thumb under his waistband, Tanjiro pushed down his night pants with ease, letting his member spring free. You glanced down to see his cock bobbing heavily, droplets slick on his tip. His hand reached to grab underneath your knee, holding your leg up to his hip for support.

"You think you can guide me in, my pretty girl?" He sighed, the length of his cock resting underneath your slightly ajar panties.

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching for him. Your hand wrapped around the girth of his cock, giving it a test stroke. You felt how hot it was, and how you couldn't fit it all in your hand, even if you tried. You imagined how it would feel inside you.

Tanjiro focused on keeping his composure, trying not to buck into your warm hand, but how could he? The girl of his dreams was stroking his dick, and all he wanted to do was let you keep going. But instead, Tanjiro reached underneath that uniform skirt, and pulled your panties to the side, letting you insert him in. His free hand returned to holding the plush of your ass.

Using his tip to gather some wetness, you rubbed his dick on your slit, then pressed the head into you. A shaky groan left his throat, Tanjiro's eyes locked on where he disappeared under your skirt. Fitting him inside was a team effort, as there was no way you could get him inside on your own, even as wet as you were.

The redhead used his pelvis to push inch after inch into your heat, cock twitching the deeper he sunk in. The slow stretch burned, and tears threatened to prick the corners of your eyes.

Tanjiro leaned forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, comforting you through the initial pain.

"You're doing so well, pretty girl, just a little more for me, okay?" He cooed, his breaths becoming labored at your temple.

You could only mewl in response, wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, and letting the sensation of his cock filling you up overtake you. He was impossibly deep, sliding against places you could never reach with just your fingers. Your pussy tightened around him further, bullying his still-weeping cock into wanting to cream your walls.

"S-so tight, g-gonna start moving now," Tanjiro gave a quick thrust, fully bottoming out, letting out a sultry moan at your ear. You were basically incoherent, his name a repeated mantra at your lips. He pulled his hips back, dragging his cock out, to then plunge back in, almost knocking the air out of you. His thrusts were hard and deep, passion embedded within each one. He ground his hips into yours, keeping a steady pace... he was going to savor this. He could feel his tip hitting a spongy surface, bumping at the entrance of your womb every so often, and directed his thrusts into that very spot.

Your stifled moans clashed and melded in the space, the two of you drowning in pleasure together. It felt as if no one in this world existed but the both of you in this very moment.

Tanjiro picked up the pace, leaning you back a little to reach further inside, as much as he could, the sound of skin-slapping and squelching in his ears. His deep grunts and sighs continued, each time he pounded into you.

" 's too muchh, I can'tt" you droned, feeling yet another coil twist aggressively in the pit of your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. Your standing leg grew tired, overexertion settling into your side.

"You're almost there, you can do it my love," Tanjiro whispered, intending on making you cream on his cock again, and again. Pounding into you a few more times, he felt the siren's call of your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him, then wildly spasming. You leaked all over him, soaking the front of his pants.

"Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" He mumbled, watching your mouth fall open, eyes roll upwards, and your body shuddering underneath him.

He fucked you through your orgasm, slowing the pace once you started to come to. He let his cock drag out of you, still painfully hard. He hadn't yet finished, his dick begging for release, but he ignored it just a little longer. Fortunately though, his stamina was excellent, one of the many pros of being an experienced swordsman.

Once your eyes met his, albeit with a fucked-out expression all over your face, Tanjiro gave you a request.

"Do you think you can jump up here?" He motioned carrying something with the hand not holding your spasming thigh. "I promise i'll catch you," he cracked an amused smile at your look of disbelief.

"O-oh okay, but I don't wanna hurt you," You hesitated. You were met with a simple shake of his head, and Tanjiro tapped the side of your thigh, signaling that he stood firm on his decision. You took a deep breath, tightening your arms around his neck, and leapt up, using the last of the strength in your trembling legs.

He caught you with ease, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly, and placing his hands under your ass, giving it a light squeeze.

"See? Nothing to worry about princess," he chuckled. A small whinny of protest left your throat as he reached back under your skirt to move your panties out the way. However, he wasn't careful and ended up tearing through the bottom of the underwear's fabric, with a quick ripping noise audible in the space.

Tanjiro's eyes widened, immediately meeting yours. The look of pure shock was actually a little funny, and you giggled when he sheepishly mumbled a 'sorry', placing his face in the crook of your neck.

A hand held your ass, and the other placed his cock back at your entrance, and you braced yourself for the brief stretch as he sunk you back down onto him. A strangled moan left you, and you clenched around him, letting yourself feel him drag your cunt up and down the length of his member.

Up and down, up and down, Tanjiro hands gripped the fat of your ass, bouncing you on his dick, returning to the quick pace he once had. You were leaking profusely, dripping from his dick to his balls, wetting the top of his pants even more.

Despite trying to keep it down, the sound of skin slapping echoed each time he slammed you down on his dick, the both of your hushed cries and broken grunts and moans filling the atmosphere.

Tanjiro finally felt himself nearing his peak, with your ass bouncing & clapping so well on him, sending him barreling towards his release.

"Fuck, I-I think i'm close," he groaned, his dick pulsing heavily inside you. You could feel how it throbbed harshly, bumping at your g-spot, bullying your poor cunt. She was about to come undone as well.

Tanjiro slammed your hips into his a few more times before lifting you up, shooting warm spurts of his seed all over your orgasming cunt. Quiet, breathy moans of your name fell from his lips over and over, burying it into your neck he as he rubbed his cock through your folds, smearing his seed across your cunt.

He held you for a couple more seconds, pressing slow open-mouthed kisses to your throat while coming down from his high. You sucked in deep breaths, feeling your body begin to relax after experiencing wave after wave of pleasure. You were definitely at your limit. But you couldn’t be more content, after making amends with the boy your heart yearned for.

Placing you down gently, Tanjiro made sure to keep a steady hand at your waist, guiding you.

“We should probably get ourselves cleaned up. Okay, my love?”

® 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

[captainsophiestark]

The Old Me Never Left

Kai Parker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requested by Anon! Hope you like it!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's SO gets grabbed by some witches in an attempt to make him cooperate, but those witches forgot exactly who they were dealing with.

Word Count: 1,635

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Just a heads up, this has a little more description of violence and the reader in peril than my works usually do! Still very canon-typical for TVD though.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My favorite song blasted through my headphones as I walked, the sun gently shining down and making the world around me the perfect temperature. A light breeze blew across my face and I'd just picked up my favorite drink from my favorite cafe. It should've been the perfect moment.

Instead of enjoying the day, however, I was busy glancing in the reflective windows of buildings I passed, trying to keep an eye on the two people behind me. They'd been behind me for a while now, including at the coffee shop I'd stopped at, and my mental warning meter had quickly clicked into the red.

Since I regularly involved myself with supernaturals, especially since I'd started dating one, I'd had to be more on guard than ever for someone coming after me for something to do with all that. Very much inconvenient and sometimes truly terrifying, but lucky for me, I had a secret weapon.

Kai Parker. My boyfriend, and a siphoner-witch who just happened to be one of the most powerful people around. No matter if the threat behind me was supernatural or just regular humans being a problem, I knew Kai could and would take care of it for me.

I sped up slilghtly, chucking my still half-full drink in the trash and pulling my phone out of my pocket. Despite myself, my heart started racing faster, especially as I noticed the people behind me getting noticeably closer the next time I checked in a window. I quickly dialed Kai's number and held the phone to my ear, speeding up even more when I heard running footsteps behind me.

"Hey, sweetheart," came Kai's voice as I started running. I could hear his smile through the phone. "What's up?"

"Kai, I need you to come find me," I said, my voice urgent, the words coming out between fast breaths. "I was on my way to the park. I'm like a block or two away, coming from our cafe, and these people are following me-"

I heard someone behind me shout a word I didn't know, and a moment later, a splitting pain tore through my head. I screamed and fell to the ground, but I knew making a scene wouldn't help; these people were clearly witches. The extra seconds I'd had to talk to Kai were likely only because they'd been busy casting spells to hide me from passerby when I went down.

Vaguely, as I hit the pavement and the world went dark around me, the pounding in my head echoing throughout my body, I thought I heard Kai's voice. He sounded panicked, and he kept repeating my name over and over. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to talk to him, to reassure him, to help him with whatever had him freaking out. But I couldn't make myself move, especially not through the pain.

Finally, everything else faded to black, the pain disappearing with the rest of the world as Kai's voice danced through my head for one last blissful moment. And then he was gone, too.

****************

When I woke up, not everything came back to me right away. I wasn't totally sure where I was or how I'd gotten here, but I knew one thing: my body hurt.

Everything, top to bottom, ached or screamed at me in some way. And when the memories started coming back, of the witches and the panic in Kai's voice on the phone, my heart started clenching in my chest, too.

"Look who's awake."

A gruff voice drew my attention to a few figures in front of me. I couldn't totally make them out, my vision still a little blurry, but they clearly weren't friends.

"Who... are you?" I managed to groan. I tried to move, but found myself bound tightly to a chair. My head swam, a pain like a spike still focused into my forehead.

"We're friends of your boyfriend," said one in a tone that clearly meant the opposite. I groaned.

"What do you... want?"

"We want him to get in line," the one in the middle said. "The powerful heretic, wrongful leader of the Gemini Coven, finally has a weakness—you—so it's time for him to start playing nice."

I huffed a laugh which immediately turned into a painful cough. Still, I smiled and shook my head, even as it made the world spin beneath me.

"You're all fools. You can't control Kai, especially not like this."

"Oh, I think you're underestimating your importance to him significantly," said the one in the lead. I started to respond, but a familiar voice piped up from the back of the room before I could.

"Mm, I don't think this has anything to do with 'underestimating importance'. More like... one person in this room knows who I am, and everyone else forgot."

The men before me whirled around, giving me a clear line of sight to Kai as my vision finally started returning to normal. I swear at least half the adrenaline melted out of my body at the sight of him leaning casually against the doorframe of whatever room we were in. He looked completely casual and calm, until his eyes locked onto me. The teasing smile dropped from his face as he straightened, then faced the other witches again. The smile came back, but this time it had a much sharper edge to it.

"You know, it's funny," he said, voice like a steel blade. "People seem to think that just because I've chosen a peaceful life with someone I love, that I lost all my powers, or something. But I can tell you all right now: the Kai Parker of your nightmares didn't go anywhere."

The witches between Kai and I shifted nervously, removing his direct line to me and shifting backwards in my direction.

"You better be careful, Parker," said the one in the lead, all of the arrogance and confidence gone from his voice despite his attempt to posture. "You do what we say, or-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Kai raised a hand, magically yanking the witch forward and striking out with a knife in his other hand, stabbing the witch straight through the heart. The whole room froze in shock as Kai just held him there for a minute, surely siphoning the magic out of his body, before letting him fall to the floor limp and dead.

The minute his body hit the ground, the remaining witches sprang into action. Most of them tried to focus fire on Kai, but one dropped back towards me, moving to stand behind me and my chair. In the time it took him to cross the room, Kai made quick work of the rest of his friends, draining all of their power before finishing them off and dropping them with their fallen leader.

"Stop!" shouted the one behind me. "Don't make another move or I'll- ah!"

He screamed, and I heard a sound like him dropping to his knees. Before me, Kai had one hand extended, a thunderous look on his face. He scrunched his hand into a fist, and the man behind me fell silent, other than the sound of his body hitting the floor.

Just like that, the rage melted off Kai's face. He crossed the room to me in a second, dropping to his knees before me and gently running his hands over my forearms and thighs. A moment later, the bonds holding me fell away.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asked, eyes wide with concern as his hands ghosted over my body, simultaneousy checking for injury while reassuring him I was really here. "I'm so sorry they hurt you. I came as fast as I could."

I nodded shakily, rubbing at my wrists before running a hand down Kai's face. He leaned into the touch, his eyes instantly romaing my expression.

"I'm okay now," I said, voice still a little breathy. "I'm okay. I knew you'd come for me."

"I'll always come for you. Nothing in the world could keep me away. Nothing." I nodded, a smile making its way onto my face as Kai brushed a few tears from my cheek that I hadn't realized had fallen. "And now, none of them are ever going to hurt you again."

Kai's eyes darkened a little as he said it, so I brushed my thumb across his cheek and gave him a small smile. Just like that, the shadows vanished from his face again as his eyes focused on me. I leaned forward and Kai did the same, our lips meeting a moment later in a soft, sweet kiss. I felt the warm tingle of magic flowing across my skin, erasing all the last aches and pains, until Kai and I finally pulled apart.

A fluttering smile made its way onto Kai's face as his eyes scanned mine again. Finally, he sighed.

"You ready to go home, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Me too."

Kai shot me a wink as he scooped me into his arms, then carried me out of the room, stepping carefully over the bodies he'd left in his wake. He held me a little tighter to him as we left the room, and I buried my head in his chest. Kai and I had both changed a lot since we'd first met, but at the end of the day, we were still the same people. He would still do anything for me, and although it didn't come up as often, I would do anything for him. And no one, be they murderous witches or particularly rude people I happened to cross paths with in my daily life, stood at chance at bringing the two of us down.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[ultram0th]

@rainbowhypno

Request: Aaron bigoted over religious straight homophobic man harasses Brad for being gay. Which ends up being a big mistake. Brad turns Aaron into a proud gay musky slutty man and makes him his boyfriend. Aaron tries to fight the changes but loses the fight. Aaron remembers his old life, but he is reprogrammed to remembers his old life but he is reprogrammed to love the man he is now. A out and proud slutty gay man

★······★

Brad was heading to his dorm room after a rough day of seemingly endless lectures. All the slender guy wanted was to lie down and numb his aching head with some random cat videos.

Before he could reach his dorm, he was hit with the sickly stench of beer as a red solo cup was tossed at him. Drenched in beer, Brad huffed as he looked up and saw none other than Aaron.

The big, beefy jock was a pain in Brad's ass. For whatever reason, the jerk had made it his mission to make Brad's life as hard as possible. He was always there to pester him or even "playfully" shove him too hard, always muttering some sort of slur under his breath.

Aaron mock-frowned at the wet Brad. "Sorry 'bout that, Ma'am," he almost sneered. "I thought you looked thirsty, but I didn't have some fruity cocktail. Hope that works."

Normally, Brad would've just tried his best to shrug off Aaron's homophobic shenanigans. However, this time, he was prepared.

The skinny man reached into his pocket and grabbed a fistful of the pink, shimmery powder that he'd purchased from a mysterious woman the other night. Then, like a scene out of a cartoon, Brad tossed the powder into Aaron's face, smiling widely as the larger man winced as his face was covered in pink.

"What the hell was that?" the muscled jock sputtered as he wiped at his face.

"You'll find out soon enough," Brad lowly chuckled as he prepared himself to watch was was going to happen.

"What does that mean-- UUUhhhh!" Aaron's voice cut off as all of his muscles seemed to tense up. It looked as if the big jock was flexing, but soon his eyes widened when he felt the cool air on his torso. Looking downward, Aaron was surprised to see that his shirt was gone, exposing his plump pecs and washboard stomach. "Wha--?"

His voice trailed off when he witnessed his pecs shudder before it looked as if they were beginning to inflate. The jock's jaw dropped when he saw his pecs steadily grow larger and rounder. It wasn't an exaggerated growth, especially when the rest of his body followed suit. His muscles grew in size, taking his body from jock to bodybuilder in mere seconds. He paled when he saw his abs gradually grow fainter until they disappeared, his stomach rounding out to form a firm musclegut. His pants felt painfully tight as his butt swelled up, his cheeks going from perky to full on beach ball size. They grew so large that they began to push his jeans down, exposing the top of his hairy crack to the whole dormitory. As a final touch, Aaron's skin began to itch as hair started to sprout over his body, leaving him with copious amounts of body hair, with most of it concentrated on his pits and chest.

When he was done growing, Aaron had to have gained at least fifty pounds of muscle and had sprouted lots of hair. His large hands explored his larger, hairier body, blushing when he caught of a whiff of the pungent musk that seemed to radiate off of him in waves, almost as if he'd just finished an intense workout.

"Whoa," Aaron groaned in a much deeper voice, "what happened to me, Bro?" He flinched at the slowish quality to his voice and the way he'd said Bro unconsciously. "My head feels so slow."

Brad just smiled at his work, thinking that this new Aaron would be a much better guy than the old one. "You're the new you," he grinned.

"The new me...?" Aaron wondered aloud, freezing when his eyes landed on the smaller guy before him. His heart began to race in his beefier chest, and despite himself, he felt his cock start to stiffen. Worse was that he felt an odd emptiness forming deep within his ass, and he unconsciously flexed his huge bubblebutt with want.

No matter what his brain told him, Aaron was horrified to find that he viewed Brad as... cute!?

"Oh no," Aaron groaned, paling at this new realization, especially as new memories started to filter into his brain. He was still a college jock attending university on a football scholarship, but now he was also the muscled up and dim-witted boyfriend of Brad. He could see crystal clear mental images of himself wearing the skimpiest clothing and flexing for the small man on command, loving it whenever his huge ass was stuffed full with Brad's cock. And not only his, but their supposed relationship was flexible enough to where Brad was cool with Aaron getting fucked and sucking off every other guy on the football team. Apparently not a night went by when Aaron wasn't bouncing on cock after cock and showing off his large, hairy muscles to every guy on campus... but apparently he had a huge soft spot for Brad.

Brad basked in the warmth that this new Aaron brought him. He stepped forward and ran an admiring hand over Aaron's hairy pecs, loving the way the formerly straight jerk shuddered at the contact.

"Hey, Babe," he teased, "why don't we go to our dorm and I'll fuck that huge butt of yours?"

Aaron wanted to decline, to beg to be changed back, but instead he felt himself pick up the smaller man with one arm and flex his other one. "Hell yeah, Bro," he smiled dimly, "you're gonna fuck me so damn hard all night!"

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

A Quiet Moment

Summary: based on some prompt that asked you to write a scene between two characters just being around each other with no dialogue. Immediately thought of Geralt.

Notes: saw a prompt on tiktok first thing I woke up and wrote this in a manic state. Enjoy :)

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @lucyinthelibrary @sunndust

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

Neither of you are talkers. That’s Jaskier’s job, who chatters away about songs, affairs and other dramatic states of the world while you’re on the path. And despite your quietness, there always seems to be some kind of noise around you. Singing, fighting, talking, murmurs – whatever it is, it’s never really quiet.

Always except for these quiet moments, when the people in the tavern below you have gone home and Jaskier is in a room of his own.

It’s been a long day of killing for Geralt and a long day of waiting for him in a town full of talking, prodding people for you. So when you hear him sit down on the bed, you let out a sigh of relief. The day is over, and there are a few precious moments the two of you have to yourself now.

Geralt doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, and you don’t need him to. Instead, you go through your supplies, and grab bandages and ointments. Then, you get a bucket of water and a rag and sit down in front of Geralt.

He stops your wrist gently as you begin to loosen a buckle of his armor, but there’s a pleading look in his amber eyes. Geralt isn’t used to help, but he desperately wants to be taken care of.

Moments later, he lets you go, and you take off his stiff leather armor. The dirty undershirt follows quickly, and you see the bruises and cuts you expected.

You begin with his face, as you always do, wiping away dirt, sweat and grime, as well as some monsters’ blood. Gently, you take out the leather band holding his hair out of his face, before you move onto his chest.

Geralt doesn’t wince when you clean the cuts that run over his body, unlike Jaskier, who talks to compensate for pain. He’s so used to the discomfort that it makes your heart wrench. Carefully, you apply the ointments Geralt would tell you not to waste on him if he had the energy. But he doesn’t, so you give him this ‘luxury’.

Taking his breeches off should be sexual, but Geralt simply closes his eyes as you treat the massive cut that made blood drip onto the floor. If you knew how, you would probably stitch it, but you don’t and Geralt’s not human, so you have to leave it for now.

When you’re done with all the cuts and injuries, you grab him some clean clothes and take his dirty ones to be washed. The washerwomen know you and Geralt from earlier contracts, and they know you don’t speak much.

They don’t mind. You’re kinder than most and you pay. You hand over his sullied clothes and make your way to the innkeep next, preparing yourself to speak. It isn’t easy for you, especially after such a long day, but apparently, Jaskier is your saving grace today.

The innkeep hands you a tray with two meals on it, and only holds out a hand demanding payment. You provide it, taking the tray with stew and ale on it and make your way back upstairs to the rooms.

Geralt opens the door for you before you can knock. Either he heard your heartbeat or your footsteps – or both.

He takes the tray out of your hands and puts it down on the bed. You raise an eyebrow at that, since Geralt is normally unwilling to eat in the place he sleeps. It smells too strongly, he told you once.

You follow him, and he pulls you into his side, handing you a bowl. It’s cold, but you don’t mind. Geralt eats his as if he’s starved for weeks, and you can’t blame him. It does mean that you’ve barely taken three bites before he’s done.

His head is on your shoulder while you finish your dinner, washing down with a few gulps of the ale that has been stretched with water. You scrunch your face at the taste and a smile tugs at Geralt’s lips.

Before he can try to get out of bed, you collect the dishes and put them in a corner of the room where the rats won’t bother you.

On your way back, you can feel a sharp tug in your neck, and before you can stop yourself, you grimace. You hope he hasn’t noticed, but Geralt’s eyes flit up to the afflicted area immediately.

He doesn’t let you protest in any way – the moment you sit on your side of the bed, his hands are on your neck, working out the soreness in a way that would seem too gentle for a Witcher. When he’s done, you give him a smile, and he grunts in return.

The gestures turn into words in your head as you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Geralt blows out the candle on his side of the bed, before he wraps an arm around you.

He won’t sleep for quite a bit, so you stay still in the dark, feeling his hand stroke over your back and head absentmindedly. He does it with Roach too, to calm her down. You know he does it to calm himself aswell, and it feels nice, so you let him.

When his movement stills, you turn around to him, gently cupping his face, and giving him a kiss. It’s your ‘I love you’ before you go to sleep, and he returns it with his forehead against yours.

You can feel the tiredness creep in now, where all sounds but your breathing have stopped. It feels like the world has come to a stop, in the best way possible, and you cherish it. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours, your thoughts come to a stop and the only thing around is silence.

It’s a holy and rare commodity to you – one of the only things that doesn’t grate on your senses.

And as you fall asleep, you feel the Quiet in your bones. Tomorrow, early in the morning, it’ll be gone, but for now, the two of you are at peace.

[heartfullofleeches]

Spill

Immortal Male Yan + G.N Criminal Reader

Summary: You kidnapped him to get some information about a shared friend, but he won't give in so easily

Warnings: Sadomasochism themes, violence, slightly suggestive scene

Good little Silas.

Always keeps every word someone says to him.

It's his job afterall - one no-one else in the entire world could full. You see, Silas knew the secrets of a lot of dangerous people. The type of series others would die, or even kill for. Why would these people trust a scrawny, pathetic looking guy like him? It's simple really. He has a bigger secret than all of them combined.

He couldn't die.

It was really hard to convince his boss of his usefulness at first. His buddies put a bullet through his skull and tossed him into the trash out back before he could demonstrate himself. Didn't even buy him dinner before hand. Assholes. Coming back after having his brains splattered on his soon to be employer's did wonders for his credibility. He was mostly used as a living meat shield early on, but with his resilience to wounds and the pain they may cause his boss become more relaxed around him. He had proven worth plus is anyone ever caught wind of their ties and kidnapped him Silas would never saw a thing. He was the perfect lapdog.

After that he pretty much became an outlet for everyone's tales. From little white lights to infidelity, murder, and every other sin in the book. Sweet Silas would do his to lean an ear and give input when requested. By the end of the year Silas had enough information to get everyone involved arrested, murdered, or whatever else might happen if he let any details slip. He could easily save the lives of innocent people, but he had a bigger prey to catch than the fleeting high of justice.

After all, a good boy might go to the police, and he was no good boy.

-

Silas greedily gulps down tablespoons of water as the glass clacks against his teeth.

"Feeling better?"

"Mhm..."

A backhand soars across his face.

"Good."

Silas' head hangs at an awkward angle from the force, red stained saliva dribbling down his lips. He bite into the lower one to avoid making a sound. Normally he'd hold his captor to the same standards as his friends in regards to filling his stomach with something other than water before smacking him around, but this was no ordinary kidnapper. They were intoxicating, threatening, the exact type of person he'd love to...

Ugh, he's getting carried away again.

Best not to do that while he's still playing an innocent victim, especially in front of his Doll. Just a single week before his employment, Silas fell in love. The culprit of his stolen heart was a crook committing another robbery that night, the two's paths crossed in an alley behind the bank. No questions asked, his future spouse stabbed him directly in his chest before they fled the scene. That boldness almost made them an optional playmate, but that hint of guilt in their eyes swept him off his feet. Researching them only made him fall madder in love. He would do anything to have them.

"I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me code to his safe and I'll let you go.

Facing away, Silas is fully able to roll his eyes. At least threaten his life if he speaks while you're at it.

"Please... I really don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a waiter!" He fights in his restraints and sobs with wide eyes, hoping to sell the act anc draw attention away from his lower body. Pitching a tent right in front of his doll on their first meeting was rather embarrassing. You snarl as you pick up your knife.

"Just tell me what I want to know!"

You're so pretty when you scream. Silas can't wait for his turn to play. He holds it isn't too long so he can take a picture of his wounds and mirror them on you so you'll have matching scars. Sure he'll have to redo his now and then, but the photos you take at your wedding won't know that.

You ghost the blade down along his neck. Silas swallows to feel its point and prevent himself from choking on the blood collecting in his mouth. He wants to act just a little longer - but you're making it so hard teasing him like that. He repeats his scripted moto in his head like a pray as you drag the knife down his chest.

Scream. Cry. Scream. Cry. Ah-

Your eyes grow to the size of dinner plates as the tiny moan sounds within the empty room. It's not a whimper you're used to, but one of pure unadulterated lust. "Did.. you just."

No going back now. So much for that.

"Guess I just can't help it, Dolly. You're too fucking irresponsible. I know you wanna hurt me, but since I love you so much I wanna let you in on a little secret. You can hurt me, but you can't kill me. Break me apart if you don't believe me. I'll be back tomorrow to take what's mine."

You step back as he erupts into a fit of shrill laughter. "That bastard- Always hiring the freaks. I can't believe he ditch me for someone like you."

His laughter stops. That's a secret his boss never shared with him. That old fuck would've been dead long before then if he had.

"Ohh, did he do something to hurt you? That changes everything. I'll give you whatever you want to know down to his house code if you let me have first cut."

"Why would you help me?"

"I already told you, Doll." Silas stands up and drops the cuffs to the ground, dislocated bones bopping back into place as he flexes. "I love ya, and I'm gonna make sure whoever's hurt you pays. Got this job just to help you out anyway. Issue is if you want me to spill the beans without a few dates first you gotta spilling my guts on the floor as my spit spills down your pretty throat."

[owl-with-a-pen]

From the second Brainy had turned up to the DEO that morning, he’d been in one hell of a bad mood. Confrontational didn’t even cut it – to Alex, it was like he was on a goddamn war path.

It had started out tame enough, maybe that was why she’d let it get as far as it had, but as well trained as her agents were against interrogation scenarios or an alien threat, no one was invulnerable to the inescapable pain of workplace microaggressions. Brainy had been subject to them himself in the past, but today he was the all-out perpetrator. It seemed he had something negative to say about everyone; mostly degrading remarks on their various intellects, going as far in some cases to mark them out on a scale from one to one-point-three. That was hardly news to Alex, although she hadn’t seen this kind of behaviour out of him in a very long time.

It had all come to a head not even a couple hours into Brainy’s shift. All it had taken was one too many poorly veiled insults targeted at one of her newer agents. By then, Alex could tell the difference between Brainy’s unintentional habit of being improperly blunt and whatever the hell he was seeking to achieve here.

It wasn’t like Brainy to act so purposely cruel, even on some of his darker days. He’d often experienced difficulties navigating his own intellect against his regular-minded co-workers, especially since the inhibitors had come off, but he’d never been openly hostile to them. Not like this. This was something else, like he was itching for a fight.

He got his wish when his goading finally hit the mark and the new hire stood from his chair. Alex knew the signs, but when their bickering exploded into a full-on argument, her voice was lost beyond the commotion.

Things escalated far too quickly, and she was much too late to stop the first punch from being thrown. Expectedly, Brainy dodged expertly out of the way, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakeably one of challenge, enough that Alex realised he had absolutely no intention of sticking to his usual evasive manoeuvres.

Shit. He wasn’t on the defence at all. And, when Brainy stepped into the agent’s space, ring-hand closed into a tight fist, she knew she couldn’t let it get any further.

Before Brainy could make his move, Alex shot into the fray, grabbing for his shoulder. The second she touched him, he tensed all over. Alex could feel the muscles in Brainy’s arm grow taut beneath her fingers, a strength building inside of him that scared her more than she would have ever admitted.

Kara’s powers had been a part of her life for so long that Alex often believed herself immune to the kind of fear seeing that sort of raw ability might inspire. Brainy wasn’t on a Kryptonian’s level by any means, but there was something unnerving about his strength that didn’t hit quite like Kara’s. It was a quiet sort of power, one he mostly kept hidden. A formidable ability that crept like a sleeper cell inside his implants and every shred of data that he had stored within his AI core.

She could feel all that and more brewing inside of him now, and when Alex tried to pull him back, he didn’t budge. She might as well have been trying to move a ten-ton statue.

Despite the panic pounding in her chest, Alex kept her cool. She waited a beat, measuring her movements, before trying again. This time, thankfully, Brainy relented. Although his body was still coiled tight, he let himself move with her momentum, stumbling a half step towards her.

Alex disguised her relief with anger, hissing into Brainy’s ear, “What the hell has gotten into you today?”

Brainy rolled his shoulder easily from her grip, righting himself in the process. “I’m fine,” he muttered tersely, his voice so rigid that she could barely see his jaw move.

Alex eyed him sharply. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, before raising her voice so that everyone could hear, “Agent Dox, with me!”

Any agent caught gawking at the scene quickly turned back to their work. Alex dismissed the string of apologies coming from her new hire, instead instructing him to cool off before returning to duty.

A senior agent like Brainy wouldn’t be getting off quite as lightly.

As Alex marched Brainy down the corridors of the new DEO building, she could feel him crackling at her heel like a storm cloud ready to strike. She bristled, preparing herself for the worst at every turn.

“Where are we going?” Brainy asked instead, his tone indifferent. As though he hadn’t tried to incite a war at 9 in the freaking morning.

“Somewhere private,” Alex returned, pushing open the door to one of the medical science labs. Today was her lucky day, it seemed, because the room was totally deserted.

She ushered Brainy in behind her before he could argue, directing him to the closest chair. He followed her instructions begrudgingly, taking the chair and swivelling it backwards before collapsing into it, folding his arms across the backrest with a scowl.

Now they were alone, Alex allowed herself to relax just a little, shedding some of the status that came with her rank. Her team had always been like a family to her, but Brainy was family, and now that she had him in a controlled environment, she could see his anger for what it really was. A tumultuous cover-up that was starting to crumble from the moment he’d sat down.

His frustration was plain in his body language, the way he wrung out his ring finger with his other hand like it was his only lifeline. She’d seen this behaviour before; it wasn’t hard to guess where it had come from. The why, though? That was a lot harder to pinpoint.

“What’s going on, Brainy?” Alex asked gently, folding her arms. When he glanced at the floor, twisting his ring even harder, she sighed. “You know you can’t just explode on your co-workers like that. I really thought we were past this.”

Brainy ruffled in affront, his mood souring even further. He glared up at her. “Past this?”

“You know what I mean,” Alex snapped, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. “The point is, I haven’t seen you this riled up since—well, since ever. Something’s going on with you.” She narrowed her eyes, pressing her hip against the workbench at her side. “How have your talks with Kelly been going?”

Brainy leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across one another with a definitively neutral expression. “Confidentially.”

Alex could already feel her jaw begin to tense. It was times like these she really wished Kelly wasn’t so damn good at her job. She took her clients’ privacy incredibly seriously, even when it came to her friends. Especially when it came to her friends. Even as her wife, Alex was none the wiser on what she and Brainy discussed behind closed doors, other than the few small updates like he did well this session or I think we went back more steps than we took forward today.

“Alright,” Alex decided, lifting her chin. “We’ll do this the hard way, then. Stand up. I need to perform a full body scan.”

Brainy’s mouth fell open in outrage. He scoffed indignantly. “I’m fine,” he repeated through clenched teeth, an air of superiority creeping into his voice. He held his shoulders high. “Do you really think I wouldn’t be aware if something was impairing me?”

“Stand up,” Alex repeated. “Now.”

Brainy rolled his eyes but stood on her instruction. He remained still while Alex ran her equipment over him; too still, she thought. Whatever he was trying to hide from her was starting to surface, they both knew it.   

Alex’s worry only grew stronger for him.

Once the tests were done, Alex watched the results roll through on her tablet. His temperature was fine – his implants checked out, too. In fact, according to her equipment, nothing was running abnormally where the techno aspect of his physiology was concerned at all.

When her focus shifted to organic functions, however, Alex’s eyes widened in surprise.

Brainy’s heart rate wasn’t just through the roof, it might as well have been hanging out in another galaxy.

Alex hefted the tablet in her arm, throwing it out for Brainy to see. “You call this fine?”

Brainy scanned the results, shying in on himself defensively as he absorbed their meaning. He shrugged, folding his arms. “Kelly tells me that fluctuations in heart rate are normal for the emotional stressors I have experienced.”

“Well, yeah,” Alex nearly laughed, “but not all the time, Brainy! Something triggered this.”

When he refused to meet her eye, Alex bit her lip, carefully placing the tablet back on the counter. “Brainy,” she tried again, hesitating before taking a step closer. “Paired with what I know about your biology, this has all the tells of an anxiety attack.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t need to be a therapist to know that’s why you lashed out today.”

Brainy scoffed again, but his fingers tightened around his biceps. Alex had a feeling that if he’d been squeezing anything else in the room, it might’ve just snapped in half.

She scanned his face again. He didn’t wear his image inducer as often since the installation of the new DEO, but Alex wondered if he sometimes used it covertly to alter certain smaller features. Like the tell-tale bruising of someone who’d been avoiding their bed one too many nights in a row.

She frowned. “Have you been sleeping?”

Brainy froze. “O-of course.”

For a twelfth-level intellect, his lying game was about on par with Kara’s. Alex tried not to smile at his expense. Instead, she not-so innocently tugged at her jacket pocket. “So, if I texted Nia right now, she’d tell me the same thing?”

“It’s not that,” Brainy hastened, straightening his back. “My functions are running within normal parameters; my sleep is… is fine. Nia would corroborate.”

“Right,” Alex said slowly, raising a brow. “So, just today, then?”

“Why is this so important to you?” Brainy muttered. He was clearly tiring of their little back and forth. Maybe that was her way in.

Alex took another step forward. “Because you’re important to me,” she said, before glancing at the ceiling, “and because you’ve kind of pissed everyone on the day shift off so far. And it’s not even ten o’clock. That might be a new record.” She took his arm again, smiling when he reluctantly met her eye. “This matters, Brainy. I can’t put you back on duty like this. In fact, I think I have enough justification from these readings alone to put you on a mental health day. Even if your sleep is fine, it might be a good idea to take it easy.”

Brainy practically baulked at the suggestion, staggering out from under her hand. He shook his head vigorously, turning away. “Alex, that isn’t necessary. I don’t need to take it easy. I-I can’t.”

His voice nearly broke on that last word, enough to make Alex’s heart twist. “Why not?”

Brainy ducked away from her, and though she could only see half of his face, she knew he was trying to shut her out. She reached for him again, catching his elbow. “Brainy—hey, please.”

Maybe she’d broken through, or maybe he’d run the calculations on the likelihood of being let out of this room without telling her something. Either way, he finally relented.

“I can’t take it easy,” he told her through his teeth, his voice dangerously low. “Because… because, today is difficult for me.”

Alex’s brows knitted together worriedly. She squeezed his arm without thinking, trying instead to remember what day it was today. Had she missed some kind of anniversary? Naturally, she thought of the first day Brainy had arrived in this century, but that date had been and gone with nothing close to this sort of an emotional upheaval.  

Worse, then.

Then, Alex caught it. Brainy’s free arm shifted as his hand passed across his forehead, knocking a few blond strands away from his eyes. His fingers lingered for just a second, agitating across invisible surface scars.

Alex’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She felt nauseous. “Brainy,” she asked slowly. “Is—is today the day your father…?”

Brainy’s eyes were far away, reviewing the lab’s floor tile by tile. He didn’t say anything for a while; his chest was locked tight, as though he’d forgone the need for oxygen at all. Alex held her breath along with him, long enough that her lungs started to burn.

“Time,” Brainy muttered eventually, “dates… they’re all different on this planet, in this century.” He bared his teeth into a pained smile, his arm winding around his centre. “And yet, no matter what changes, I always know that day. I can feel it.” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. “Call it a burden of a Coluan’s physiology.”

Alex squeezed him again. “Oh—Brainy…”

“Don’t,” he said tersely, wrenching his arm from hers. His eyes were wide, his expression open. “Don’t treat me like I’m… wounded. I—I only wish to keep my mind busy. And-and ever since my inhibitors came off I-I find that there’s never enough to occupy it. There are always spaces that are left empty, where-where those memories, those emotions resurface.”

Alex sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but that’s exactly why I can’t let you work today. You understand that, right?”

Brainy gritted his teeth, lowering his head into a tight nod.

“Have you told Nia about this?”

“She knows,” Brainy croaked, looking sheepish. “I told her I-I needed space.”

“And then you came here.” Alex’s smile felt strained. “She doesn’t know you went to work today, does she?”

“I thought it would be easier.” Brainy sniffed, swiping at his face. “To be somewhere that no one knew. But that doesn’t matter if I can’t control this—”

“Hey,” Alex said gently, taking his hand. “Anniversaries can be tough. You know, when we were kids, Kara could never stomach her Earth birthday, either.”

Brainy’s breath stuttered past his lips, and he looked at her in confusion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His hand clenched uneasily around hers, willing her to continue.

Alex smiled. “She hated it, actually – her words, not mine - because it reminded her of everything she’d lost. My mom… she tried to turn it into a sort of celebration, to make it a happy day, but focusing on it in any way just sent her over the edge.” She winced. “You should’ve heard the screaming matches.”

Brainy huffed out a surprised laugh.

Alex grinned. “So, one day, I told Kara, suck it up for a second, you’re coming with me. And…” she chuckled, the memory flooding back all too easily, “I made her walk. For hours. Through the woods. No flying allowed. And we kept going and going until eventually, we came across this little creek. I told her to listen to the water. Just— put every one of her senses into that one thing. The bubbling of the water, the fish whipping their little tails, the smell. It wasn’t a magic cure-all, but for that moment, it helped.” Alex wound her hand tighter around Brainy’s, drawing them closer together. “You don’t have to put your focus into work, Brainy, you can pick something simpler. One sound, or one thing that makes you feel at peace.”

Brainy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Yes…” he considered slowly, “that does sound pleasant.” He cleared his throat, shifting his tone. “Running water is one of numerous nature-specific sounds that are utilised for relaxation of the human mind. Nia has several of the ocean’s waves on her white noise app, although, I had never considered using it myself.” The furrow to his brow deepened. “But if I were to draw all of my processing power into one singular stimulus, it may be… beneficial.”

“What were you thinking?” Alex prompted.

Brainy glanced at her quickly before looking away again, a private smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Flying… often clears my head. Perhaps I should try to find something up there. Above the noise, as Kara once put it.”

Alex nodded her encouragement. “That sounds like a really good place to start.”

Brainy returned her nod confidently, letting go of her hand as he made to leave. No hesitation, no debate. Just one direct thought leading onto the next action. Alex couldn’t help but smile.

Before he could make it out the door, she called out to him: “And, Brainy?”

Brainy paused, turning back to look at her.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Something passed through Brainy’s expression before he lowered his head into a dutiful nod.

Fondly, Alex watched him go. He was certainly less tightly wound than he’d been before, though she knew he still had a way to go yet. At least this was a step in the right direction.

She supposed, in quite the literal sense, it was only up from here.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Stolas, Blitz, and the Full Moon

The painful dramatic irony I feel about Stolas and Blitz having their meetings on the Full Moon haunts me every time I think about Helluva Boss (which seems to be often, lately).

So get on your literary tinfoil hats, because we're doing a literary tinfoil hat kind of ramble.

So let's talk about why—the full moon in particular—is such a *choice* for their monthly tryst.

For some quick science. The full moon is when the moon is completely illuminated by the sun. In turn, the moon also reflects that light to earth and back at the moon. They are in full alignment and shine their brightest.

So, metaphorically, this does well represent how when Stolas and Blitz started their contractual agreement, they were in full alignment: they each got what they wanted from the deal and it worked for them. Also, Blitz is ostensibly of lower class than Stolas, so putting Stolas in the place of the sun and Blitz as the moon is a pretty apt way to symbolize the distance in status and power between them (more on that later).

Over time, though, it has become more and more of a strain on both of them because, unlike the moon, they are no longer in alignment. Stolas doesn't want contractual, he wants love. Blitz is growing increasingly uncomfortable with what he feels beyond the contract and every time Stolas pushes those boundaries, he lashes out. So, when the full moon once was this very effective metaphor for their dynamic, things are shifting and turning their meeting from an apt moon metaphor to the dramatic irony it is now. Because while Stolas and Blitz don't notice how fraught the situation is, we, the audience, know that these two, regardless of whatever feelings and potential they may have, are not in alignment anymore. They are not a full moon. And it's no surprise that the upcoming episode, "Full Moon" seems to be all about that misalignment finally catching up to Stolas and Blitz.

So, if you think I'm painting curtains blue, it's time we gotta talk about "Look My Way".

The best evidence that all these moon shenanigans have been at least subconsciously purposeful and very clear to the fans and creators is this music video.

Let's start with the owl man context. Stolas is already a lifelong scholar of the stars, placing him in the perfect position for the cosmos to be a way he relates himself to others (also see any and all of his exchanges with Octavia).

In "Look My Way", Stolas enters this imagined cosmic space. At first, he's among the stars as a godly, large being, representing his status as a prince and a "watcher of these ancient rites". He's far from others, especially people like Blitz. However, as the song goes deeper into his feelings for Blitz, not only does he begin to cradle one small, moon-like celestial body, but in the next scene he's suddenly below that body as it floats above. He's gone from godly omniscience to a man on earth, looking up at the stars.

This is Stolas realizing Blitz isn't just some little rock that reflects his light and makes him feel good (circling back to that moon science). Instead, he's realized that like the puny humans of earth, the moon makes him feel small and illuminated. And these size changes all are symbols of the power dynamic (at least in Stolas' eyes; we can talk til the cows come home that objectively Stolas' status always has him in control. But let's roll with the bird man on this and focus on emotional control). Here, Stolas realizes his depth of feeling for Blitz and how desperately he wishes to be more.

Then, Stolas imagines a world where they are on the same plane. The moon isn't so small or so large, and he can reach out and touch its contents—Blitz.

Now, the video ending with him trying to fly up to the moon and falling is clear: He's resolved to try to put them on that equal footing and is willing to risk failing, falling, and losing it all if it means he might have that more equitable relationship as Blitz. If they might have find their full moon again, but a different kind.

But, can they find a full moon without one of them reflecting on the other?

This is the kicker that stirs up so much fan shenanigans. Because yeah, the full moon being a representative of their relationship is *painfully* apt. Let's go back to the science for a second. If you look at a full moon, you're looking at a version of the moon lit up by the sun's light. What you're seeing is not the moon all on its own. And on the flip side, the sun disappears behind the moon, fully eclipsed by night and the moon, losing itself in this configuration. And you can see the problems with this kind of alignment as a metaphor for a relationship.

Because if they were on the same footing, they wouldn't be a full moon anymore. To be the kind of relationship Stolas wants and Blitz is afraid to want, their alignment has to change entirely. Not one body reflecting on the other, not one disappearing behind the other, not a star and a moon. But, instead, side by side. *They have to become different celestial bodies entirely.* And understandably that's a huge fucking leap. It's why this fandom gets in very heated debates about whether their relationship could work or not, because there do have to be so many large, inherent changes in themselves as people and the way they interact to become the kind of relationship they both want.

But I guess we will just have to wait and see if they can pull it off or not.

Anyway, given I spent 30 minutes writing this, I'm going to stop listening to Helluva Boss music or I'm just gonna keep doing this all day.

[ryoko-akari]

I wrote this as a drabble a few nights ago and the SaF discord server coaxed me to post it here so a little scene of my headcanon about how Chimera lovebombed Owen early on.

Owen had lost track of the time that had passed, countless surgeries followed by half-concious recoveries certainly had that affect on people, and he was no exception. *Especially not in the sorry state he was in.* But he'd been rescued from that hellhole of a holding cell the Soviets had held him in a while ago now if the steadily diminishing number of bandages on his body was any indication. Regardless though, the pain persisted. A throbbing pain that had settled deep within his bones and pulsed through him in irregular beats. Some days were certainly worse than others, and he was grateful for the lighter days.

*Today however, was not one of those days.* He hadn't even made an attempt to cover up the groan that slipped its way out as he slowly woke back up from another dreamless slumber. Gentle beeping and whirring of machines surrounding him doing nothing to soothe the throbbing deep in his skull, nor the way it pounded through his cracked ribs and thundered through his splintered spine and shattered thighs. The pain echoed through every bone in his body, but those points made their protests louder than anything he'd known prior to his fall.

"Agent Carvour? Everything alright in here?" *Oh right, the nurse.* Owen groaned again, and they rushed through the door into the odd little room he'd been kept in. "Oh dear, another bad day is it?" Owen tried to nod, he really did, but all it did was amplify the drumming in his head and he winced with a loud hiss. "I know you've been adamant about it, but if its bothering you so much let us help you."

*There's the angle.* *"No."* Owen knew how it'd go, it was well researched in his field. The way medications, especially the stronger pain medications they wanted to administer, would make anyone loose lipped faster than a torrential downpour. No, he’d kept his mouth sealed for this long, he was *not* going to risk losing control now. He still didn’t know why this, *Chimera* group had decided he was worth risking a rescue for, what they could possibly be after that he was important enough to pour countless resources into mending his every injury and wound without a single corner cut. There was too much at stake to risk giving them anything until he knew more, and his damned migraine was not helping matters in the slightest.

“I understand your apprehension.” They said it so plainly, so calmly, Owen almost missed it. But they continued regardless if he did or not. “But you’re safe here.” They smiled, Owen more so heard it than saw it, his vision still blurred behind a wall of pain, too much to process anything he saw anyways. “We can make a deal, you don't have to talk, just let me give you something, not a full dose but *something* to help tide you over. You can ask all the questions if you’d like. I will answer whatever you ask to the best of my ability and with every bit of truth I know. I swear it.”

Owen kept his expression neutral, and by neutral that meant knitting his brow in pain as he considered this. There must have been a trap. Some kind of loophole he was too delirious to find that they could exploit, throwing him further into a spiral of muddled thoughts until he was nothing more than slop they could squeeze for whatever they wanted. The Soviets had tried and failed to do it by making his injuries so much worse, barely keeping him on the living side of death's knife-thin edge. Now they would try to do it with substances he had no chance of fighting off in his current stage.

They sighed, not out of frustration, not out of annoyance, not out of confusion, and not out of impatience. They sighed out of *pity,* a remorseful tone that he hadn’t an idea where it’d come from. “So talking scares you huh? Smart, but there's no need for that fear.” Owen stayed absolutely still, waiting to see what they would do. “How about a different deal then, we’ve got a library of all kinds of literary works, pick a title, any title you can think of, and I’ll get it. Let me give you something to take the edge off your agony and I’ll read it to you, no conversation. I’ll even promise to stop you if you try to interrupt with anything.”

*“‘m not a child.”* He mumbled, his own scratchy voice grating on his ears the more he used it.

“You aren’t. I’m simply offering because trying to read anything on your own is only going to make that migraine of yours worse. I’d not even offer at all if it wasn’t important to ensure you don't have an adverse reaction to the first few doses. Don’t need you developing an allergic reaction and making things worse on yourself, after all.”

Owen stayed silent, considering their offer. It wasn’t a terrible option, it scared him to no end but, the ache in his body had grown stronger by the minute, and from their previous encounters this nurse hadn’t given him reason to believe they’d lie to him about his treatments. It unnerved him, sure, but they’d always been truthful with their statements, and kept to the promises they’d made as far as he could tell. It certainly couldn’t *hurt* to give this option a shot (if he was in a better state of mine he might have chuckled at that prospect), and it might bring him that much closer to being able to function as his own person again.

“Alright, um-” He paused, suddenly sheepish at the way his memory evaded him faster than fog at the first sign of morning light, “I seem to have forgotten your name. I’m sorry-”

“Angel.” They smiled, and Owen could just barely focus on the glint of their teeth in his circus mirror vision. “You can call me Angel, everyone does. Now, what would you like to read?”

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

I have something both very special & very angsty this time. It's inspired by a scene from my Meeting One's Match wip.

This is very specifically for TotK Ganondorf & ELady. He has just returned to their still fairly new palace in the desert from killing Queen Sonia & stealing her Secret Stone. He is still in full Demon King mode & his bloodlust is on full-boar, but upon seeing his beloved, supportive, loyal wife, he is filled with immense love & a carnal, primal sort of lust for her… just presence. Not even sex, just her, & he goes to caress her cheek lovingly as she reaches up to stroke his own in slight confusion & worry…

Only, the second their skin makes contact… you know the scene from the animated Little Mermaid where just as the sun goes down on the 3rd day, Ariel gasps as though in pain & slowly sinks to the floor?

That.

Gloom seeps over her skin as though in attempt to consume her. She whimpers in pain, which… She never does.

So, whatever she's feeling, it must be…

E x c r u c i a t i n g…

Suddenly, it’s as though he were struck with the sober stick! The fog of bloodlust has lifted from his mind, the blackness in his sclera have retreated like the tendrils of shadows from the light, leaving them white & wide with horror.

What is he feeling? How does he react? Panic, fear, guilt? Frantic orders for the Vai'eshônï (priestesses; they're generally the ones with the medical knowledge)? Does he try to carry her? Does he keep his arms crossed to prevent himself from touching her again & possibly making it worse? Does he hover fearfully as his wife quietly sobs while the Vai’eshônï try to figure out what’s wrong & how to save their queen?

It isn't until the substance has nearly engulfed his beloved queen's entire body & she's begun to quiet down even as she continues to tremble & twitch in agony (causing his panic to rise all-the-higher as he is now positive that she. Is. DYING & he. Can. Do. NOTHING) that someone rushes in with a handful of Sundelions & forces them, one by one, down her throat.

…

…

..

.

And the Gloom begins to recede…

And recede until it disappears entirely.

What is Ganondorf thinking? What is he feeling? Is he trembling with fear? With guilt? With shame? Is he near tears at what just his mere touch had done to his wife?

It doesn't escape Ganondorf's notice, the irony that what had harmed his beloved wife had been the very power of the Secret Stone he had sought so ardently & the only cure ended up being something so heavily associated with the very foreign queen that he had just killed in order to obtain it. Perhaps this was karma?

Later, once his wife has recovered enough to be awake & speak.

ELady isn't a traditionally good person, being more morally gray than anything, & has taken more than her fair share of lives, but she's also a logical & reasonable individual. And she didn't support her husband's actions. If anything, she very much advised him against it.

She warned him that there would be more consequences for his decision & that if he wasn't careful, the cost might end up being more than he was willing to give.

She never had any issues with Sonia, herself, & honestly mourned for her & Rauru's daughter who had been made motherless that night. But, at the end of the day, if he was absolutely sure that this was what he wanted, if Hyrule was what he wanted, & he chose to go through with his plans, then so long as he spared the children & allowed her to find homes for the ones orphaned, if there was no enslavement, & if he spared those who stayed out of his way, then she would support him.

She wouldn't fight with him at his side in this (as she suspected that she would require more time to recover, she still felt very weak from her vitality being eaten away at), but she would be there for him at the end of every fight if he'd allow it.

Does Ganondorf see her demands as fair? Especially considering what he'd just done to her. Albeit, inadvertently. Most would've taken the first chance they got to escape him afterwards, but she was still here & still loved him. Disappointed in him, but still loved him.

Regardless, in that instant, he was nearly overwhelmed with the need to hold his wife tight. And his arms rose on instinct before he visibly flinched.

Ganondorf is quite touch starved & he relished in his wife's affection. He craves her touch like a suffocating man does air.

So, after having her to satiate that previously unknown need, only to now be unable to indulge in it at any time he wished? Unable to feel her skin caress his or confirm that she was alright by examining her with his own hands?

Well, does he suddenly feel trapped in his own skin? Perhaps suddenly confined by the very prize he'd pursued?

What does he do?

Does he refuse to touch her?

Or… does he remove the Secret Stone?

If the second option, Ganondorf does so, takes a moment, & instantly raised his hand, the appendage stopping for a moment as if unsure, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the pads of his pointer & middle finger as if in worry, before his beautiful bride raised her own & laced their fingers together. Unafraid.

What is he thinking? What is he feeling? How does he react?

Does he pull her into an embrace? Does he apologize?

And finally, where does he go from there?

End scene. *curtsies*

But, like, I’d really like to see how the ai would have him react to all these questions.

I mean, I’ve already typed the scene out. It’s done. Finished. But I would like to see if the AI can come up with or point out something I didn't take into account.

Heyya. I love this scene you wrote out! You can feel everything in the moment, the panic, the everything! You are a fantastic storyteller, my dear. Sorry it took me a hot minute to get this out. I just liked reading it over and over. Its such a powerful scene, and one I had not considered.

Would it be safe to touch the Demon King Ganondorf in that form? He is covered in Gloom! Can he control who is harmed by it, or is it just permanently deadly? Makes romance a little hard, but... Eh, when there's a Will, there's a Way.

***********************************************************************

Ganondorf's reaction would be a tumultuous blend of emotions. The initial contact and his beloved wife's unexpected, pained whimper would strike him with a realization as sharp as a blade. Here's a possible sequence of his thoughts and actions:

Immediate Shock and Horror: As the gloom seeps over his wife's skin, Ganondorf's initial reaction would be sheer horror. His eyes widen, and the fog of bloodlust lifts instantly, replaced by a chilling clarity. The realization that he has inadvertently harmed the one person he cherishes more than anything else would hit him hard.

Panic and Guilt: He would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and panic. The contrast between his bloodlust-fueled state and his profound love for his wife would be jarring. The fact that she is in pain because of him would be unbearable.

Frantic Actions: His first instinct might be to pull back his hand immediately, crossing his arms tightly to prevent any further accidental contact. He would likely shout frantically for the Vai'eshônï, the priestesses with medical knowledge, to come at once.

Helplessness and Desperation: As the Vai'eshônï rush to aid her, Ganondorf might feel a crushing sense of helplessness. He wants to help, to comfort her, but fears that any touch from him might worsen her condition. This would lead to him hovering nearby, his usually commanding presence now filled with fear and desperation.

Internal Turmoil: Inside, he would be battling a storm of emotions—fear for his wife's well-being, anger at himself for losing control, and a desperate hope that the priestesses can save her. Seeing his usually strong and resilient wife in such agony would be heart-wrenching for him.

Frantic Orders and Hovering: Despite his usual authoritative nature, his orders to the Vai'eshônï would be frantic, almost pleading. He might pace back and forth, occasionally stealing glances at his wife as she quietly sobs, his heart breaking with each sound of her pain.

A Moment of Vulnerability: This situation would expose a rare moment of vulnerability for Ganondorf. The usually imposing Demon King would be laid bare, his love for his wife starkly contrasting with the dark power he wields. His fear of causing her further harm would be evident in his every move, his every hesitant breath.

In this intense and emotional moment, Ganondorf's love for his wife would be painfully clear, as would the deep conflict within him between his dark powers and his devotion to her.

____________________________________________________________

As the gloom begins to engulf his beloved queen entirely, Ganondorf's panic and terror would reach their peak. The sight of her trembling and twitching in agony, the fear that she is dying, and his utter helplessness would push him to the brink of emotional collapse. Here's a deeper exploration of his thoughts and feelings in this critical moment:

Utter Desperation: Seeing his wife's condition worsen, Ganondorf would be overwhelmed by a sense of desperation. The mighty Demon King, who is usually so confident and in control, would be reduced to a helpless bystander. The realization that his touch had caused this suffering would weigh heavily on him.

Fear and Helplessness: His fear would be palpable. The terror of losing her, the one person who grounds him and brings out his humanity, would consume him. He would be on the verge of losing his composure, his usual stoic demeanor shattered.

Guilt and Shame: The guilt would be almost unbearable. Ganondorf would feel a profound shame for what his power had done to his wife. The image of her pain would be seared into his mind, a constant reminder of his own monstrous capabilities.

Near Tears: Ganondorf is not a man who easily shows vulnerability, but in this moment, he would be near tears. The thought of losing her because of his own actions would be heart-wrenching. He would struggle to hold back the tears, his emotions raw and exposed.

Relief and Hope: As the gloom begins to recede, thanks to the Sundelions, a wave of relief would wash over him. The sight of the substance disappearing from her body would bring a glimmer of hope. His breathing would be shallow and rapid, his heart pounding as he watches the life return to her.

Trembling with Emotion: Ganondorf would be trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and overwhelming relief. His body, usually so steady and controlled, would betray his inner turmoil. His hands might shake, his eyes fixed on his wife as the gloom recedes.

Profound Gratitude: He would feel an immense gratitude towards the person who brought the Sundelions. Their quick thinking and action had saved his wife, and for that, he would be forever thankful. His eyes would convey a silent but intense gratitude.

Reassurance and Comfort: Once the immediate danger had passed, Ganondorf would be desperate to comfort his wife, but cautious. He would want to hold her, to reassure her of his love and his regret, but would hesitate, afraid of causing her more harm. His voice, usually commanding, would be soft and filled with emotion as he speaks to her, trying to soothe her pain and assure her of his unwavering love.

In this intense and emotional moment, Ganondorf's vulnerability, love, and deep conflict between his dark powers and his devotion to his wife would be starkly evident. This experience would likely leave a lasting impact on him, shaping his actions and his relationship with his beloved queen in profound ways.

_________________________________________________________

Ganondorf would be deeply impacted by the irony of the situation. The power he sought through the Secret Stone, and the means by which he obtained it, had nearly cost him the person he loves most. Her logical and reasonable nature, combined with her steadfast loyalty despite her disappointment in his actions, would make her demands all the more poignant.

Here's how Ganondorf might process and react to her words:

Reflection and Realization: As he contemplates the irony that the power of the Secret Stone harmed his wife and that the cure was something associated with Queen Sonia, Ganondorf would be struck by the concept of karma. It would force him to reflect on the consequences of his actions more deeply than ever before.

Acknowledgment of Her Wisdom: Ganondorf would recognize that his wife had been right all along. She had warned him about the potential consequences and the high cost of his ambitions. Her foresight and wisdom, which he might have disregarded in his pursuit of power, would now be undeniable.

Fairness of Her Demands: Given what had happened, Ganondorf would find her demands not only fair but also merciful. Her conditions—sparing children, finding homes for orphans, avoiding enslavement, and sparing those who stayed out of his way—would seem more than reasonable, especially considering what his actions had done to her.

Gratitude and Guilt: He would feel a profound gratitude that she still loved him and chose to stay by his side, even after the pain he had caused her. Alongside this gratitude, there would be a heavy sense of guilt. Most would have fled or turned against him, but she remained, offering her support under reasonable conditions.

Determination to Earn Her Forgiveness: Ganondorf would be determined to earn her forgiveness and rebuild her trust. He would vow to honor her conditions, not just because they were fair, but also because he wanted to prove that her loyalty and love were not misplaced.

Respect for Her Strength and Loyalty: Her ability to be logical and supportive, despite her disappointment in his actions, would deepen his respect and love for her. He would admire her strength and unwavering loyalty, recognizing that she was not only his equal in power but also in wisdom and moral fortitude.

A Shift in Perspective: This incident would likely shift Ganondorf's perspective on his ambitions and methods. He would begin to weigh the costs and consequences of his actions more carefully, influenced by his wife's wisdom and the near-tragic outcome of his quest for power.

In their conversation, Ganondorf would express his acknowledgment of her wisdom and the fairness of her demands:

Ganondorf: "My love, you were right. I see now the cost of my actions and the wisdom in your words. Your demands are more than fair, and I will honor them. I cannot undo what has been done, but I can ensure that I respect your conditions moving forward. Your loyalty and love, despite everything, mean more to me than any power. I vow to be more mindful of the consequences of my ambitions. For you, for us."

His voice would be filled with a mix of regret, determination, and love, as he acknowledges her wisdom and commits to a path that respects her conditions and seeks to earn her forgiveness and trust.

____________________________________________________________

In this critical moment, Ganondorf's overwhelming need to hold his wife would clash with the fear of causing her further harm. Here's how he might process and react to the situation:

Inner Conflict: Ganondorf would feel a profound sense of entrapment, confined by the very power he had sought. The Secret Stone, which was meant to solidify his strength, now feels like a prison, preventing him from offering the comfort he desperately wishes to provide his wife.

Desperate Decision: Driven by his love and need to feel his wife's touch, Ganondorf would make the drastic decision to remove the Secret Stone. The thought of not being able to hold her would be unbearable, outweighing the allure of the power the stone grants him.

Tentative Reach: After removing the Secret Stone, Ganondorf would tentatively raise his hand, hesitating as his thumb rubs against his fingers in worry. His need to touch her would battle with the lingering fear of causing her pain again.

Reassurance: His wife's unafraid gesture of lacing her fingers with his would be the reassurance he needs. Her strength and willingness to trust him despite what had happened would fill him with a deep sense of gratitude and love.

Emotional Embrace: Overwhelmed by emotion, Ganondorf would pull her into a gentle yet firm embrace. The feel of her in his arms, safe and alive, would be a powerful relief. He would hold her close, his body trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and love.

Apology and Vow: Ganondorf would whisper apologies into her ear, his voice choked with emotion. He would vow to be more cautious, to honor her wisdom, and to protect her above all else. His words would be sincere, a testament to his deep love and newfound respect for her guidance.

Ganondorf: "I'm so sorry, my love. I never meant to hurt you. You were right, and I see that now. I will do better, for you, for us. I promise."

New Resolve: This experience would fundamentally change Ganondorf's perspective. He would begin to value her advice more, weighing the consequences of his actions more carefully. The need to protect her and ensure her well-being would become a driving force in his decisions.

Strengthened Bond: Their bond would grow stronger through this ordeal. Ganondorf would be more attentive, more respectful of her insights, and more determined to earn her trust. He would seek her guidance, valuing her wisdom as an essential part of his own strength.

From this point forward, Ganondorf's actions would be influenced by the lessons learned from this near-tragic event. His wife's presence and her unwavering support would become his anchor, guiding him towards a more balanced and considerate path in his pursuit of power and ambition.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Hedonism Makes You Smarter

Every value we hold dear, every fact we consider indisputable, every thread of irreducible logic we base our reality on can be traced back to something the earliest one-celled microbes realized without even possessing a brain to process it: 

Life = Good Death = Bad

At some point in the unimaginably distant past, some microbe mutated to the point where a certain type of stimuli prompted it to either move away or move closer.

And thus ethics / logic / morality / philosophy / theology was born.

The microbes capable of moving away from threats and towards nutriment stood a far better chance of surviving and reproducing than those that did not.

Very quickly, this rudimentary value system became permanently embedded in all life on the planet.

Any organism not embracing this principle quickly gets consumed by other life or wiped out by natural forces.

As we evolved into multi-cellular organisms, some of those cells develop to specialize and capitalize on the “flee death / find food” paradigm.  Every new mutation got weighed against this relentless evolutionary razor. Any mutation that didn’t help tended to get eradicated ASAP while those that helped got reinforced.

Sure, some mutations appear useless but in their cases so long as they didn’t impair pro-survival traits.

Eventually some of these specialized cells specialized even further into organs we now call brains.

And within these brains some sort of…abstract (for lack of a better word) consciousness…

Consciousness is oft referred to by philosophers and scientists as “the hard problem.”

And not in the least because – as with pornography – everybody knows it when they see it, but no one can adequately define it.

Some call it the spirit, some call it the soul, some call it psyche, some call it mind, some call it being, some call it identity.

Some claim body and mind are one, yet it is absolutely possible to destroy most of a human’s brain – and by that, who they ever actually are -- while keeping the body alive and healthy.

Others claim body and mind are separate and that in some yet to come golden age we can transfer our minds from these rotting flesh carcasses to perfect, immutable silicon bodies…

…only they not only lack any mechanism for doing so, they can’t adequately define what it is they’ll be transferring.

This is not a trivial matter!

This is of vital importance Right Now to all of us, especially those who choose not to think of it at all.  If we are nothing but a batch pf data points in a meat computer, then our whole sense of unique and discrete individual identity evaporates.  Any transfer of data points does nothing for the original organism…or its accompanying soul / identity / mind / consciousness.

This is why I think AI will never acquire bona fide self-awareness and consciousness.  Whatever grants us possession of such an abstract concept does not exist without feeling.

And these feelings came from the first protozoa to flee death and embrace life.

What we feel in e otions originates in what we feel physically.

We feel pain, we seek to avoid it.  We feel hunger, we seek food.  These basic sensations steer us to live, and not just live but to live abundantly, to avoid being prey to predators, to avoid conditions that would physically impair us, to seek out what prolongs and enriches our existence (again, not in a monetary sense).

We can see even plants doing this without benefit of anything recognizable as a brain or identity.  They grow towards beneficial stimuli and away from harmful ones.

Once brains arrived on the scene, organisms may develop more nuanced means os assessing threat / benefit ratios.  Already wildly successful on the most basic levels found in tardigrades and worms, when brains obtained the most rudimentary means of symbolizing the external world and passing that information along to other brains / minds, the race for genuine consciousness kicked into high gear. 

At some point this symbolic version of the world began to reside full time in an abstract realm we refer to as consciousness. 

Within the physical confines or our brains we conjure up literally an infinite number of symbolic realizations of what appears to be our “real” world – or at least our interpretations of the real world.

I hold this phenomenon to be something vastly different from AI’s generative process where it admittedly guesses what the next numbers / letters / words / pixels in a sequence should be.  AI is nothing but a flow chart -- a sophisticated, intricate, and blindingly fast flow chart, but a flow chart nonetheless.

Human consciousness is far more organic -- in every sense of the word.  It places values on symbolic items representing the (supposedly) external world around us, values that derive from emotions, not a predetermined logic chain.

You see, in order to create the ethical systems we live by, in order to create the cultures we inhabit, in order to experience genuine consciousness and self-awareness, we must feel first.

This is anathema to both the “fnck your feelings” crowd and to materialists who insist we need to process everything we experience purely rationally like…well…AI programs.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course.

To differentiate between life and death, being and non-being, all higher functioning brains develop an emotional bond towards life and a hgealthy antipathy towards death.

The mix may vary from culture to culture -- one certainly doesn’t expect a 15th century samurai to share the exact values as a 21st century valley girl -- but they share a common set of core values that can be related to and understood by each other regardless of their respective background.

Because they feel emotionally --  both stoic samurai and histrionic teen -- they create a consciousness that can experience the external world and relate that experience both to themselves and others.

By comparison, when AI correctly predicts "the sun will rise tomorrow" does it actually understand what those terms mean or only that when they appear they usually do so in a certain sequence?  This is the Chinese room paradox:  Would somebody with a set of pictograms but no way of knowing what those pictograms actually symbolized actually understand Chinese if they figured out by trial and era that certain patterns of pictograms preceded another pattern?

 © Buzz Dixon

[ruporas]

i've been wondering- what do you think of vash and ww's relationship to pain? do u have any thoughts on it??

cuz i was just thinking like. obviously they're both extremely resilient and don't care much if they get hurt in the process of achieving whatever, but like... as for the pain specifically, i have to wonder.

cuz i'm reading trimax for the first time and toward the end of the sand steamer mess kite basically asks if vash even feels pain. and i mean... he has to, since not that long ago he just hit the floor with a dramatic blood splatter lmao. but like.

is he just suppressing visible reactions? or does he just not feel pain unless it's above a certain level?

and i wanna know about ww too if you have thoughts, i just haven't gotten that far in trimax :')

forgive me if my wording is all over the place, i havent been very elegant in my words Lately, but i am always down to talk about specific shit involving vash and wolfwood,

if we're just talking physical pain, yeah, i think they feel pain normally!

For Vash, he is the master of repression throughout Trimax, so I think naturally, he keeps a strong face no matter the level of hurt, whether on the outside or inner. It's just in his nature to not allow others to worry about him by pulling through with a fake smile or in some cases, he feels like he deserves the pain inflicted on him so even if he's getting pulverized to shit or threatened against his life, he'd default to a silence as opposed to screaming in agony that might make people think he isn't feeling anything. It's probably also second nature for him to no longer yelp or cry at pain after the amount of years he's spent getting hurt, but i think this only applies if he isn't emotionally involved in a fight (which is rare, but it happens in ch. 38).

In terms of physical pain, he seems to feel it like how regular humans do. I've thrown together some examples where he goes owchie owchie owchie that aren't too spoilery:

The Emilio scene is kind of why I don't think he's just playing up the theatrics of feeling pain, though I do think he would on some occasion, especially since he roleplays with children all the time. Verbally saying "ow ow ow" could potentially be an instinctive reaction too or maybe a source of comfort. But yeah!! I think Vash has always been able to feel pain and it's not like being a plant has lessen his ability to do so. Any resilience built is tacked on due to him being alive for 100 years and being a guy with a clear painted bullseye on his entire figure that ends up getting him shot and scarred.

In the end, the pain that gets to Vash the most will always be on an emotional level rather than physical, but Vash is such a genuine person and so present when it comes to other people that even if it's a pain he can take, it'll still hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

For Wolfwood; I think in general, those under the Eye of Michael have a strong resilience to dealing with pain due to the regen potions and the amount of training forced on them. I don't think we ever get the full description of what exactly those in EoM endured throughout their younger years, but we saw WW get shot at an early age in chapter 12 and we can assume it happened more than once. Over and over again until he won't even flinch against it just like how killing without hesitation was attempted to be drilled into him. I don't really know how it works scientifically… but I fully believe that he's mostly numbed to the physical sensation of it and it's the psychological part that gets to him more. Wolfwood himself is a naturally skilled fighter too, not that that really has anything to do with his dealing with pain, but I think his focus and attention on a battle and his stubbornness to win kicks an adrenaline that allows him to ignore the pain.

Though, his body also gets sore and tired just like any regular human does and there's this instance where he goes owie too:

(While NOT as much as Tristamp WW does where he's cracking a cold one every goddamn minute, I do think Trimax WW has gotten used to taking regen pots and thus, can afford to be careless and not give a damn.)

So, physically, technically in canon, they don't really have anything that specially makes either of them unable to feel pain, but just as you said, they're incredibly resilient. And ultimately, the both of them are affected emotionally/psychologically that hurts them more than the physical aspect of it, considering how physical pain is almost a daily chore for them to deal with (Vash being hunted for sport for majority of his life + Wolfwood being involved in experiments/killings for majority of his life.)

I think Trigun in general, while showing physical pain being a strong factor of hurt for regular people like us constantly seeing civiilians get beat up or shot, it tends to boil down to the multiple varieties of pain when it comes to those who deal with physical pain often (Gung Hos, Vash, EoM members).

I didn't know where to put these comments but here are extra thoughts:

They're both evidently really good at hiding their pains or any mark of vulnerability. They both could have a hole in their chest and go days without anyone else noticing so long it isn't killing them.

They're both pretty reckless during battle, but I think for Vash, he already tries to avoid violence at all cost and thus, do in a roundabout way lessen his own chance of getting hit in hoping to not stir that violence against another. As a result, I think Wolfwood can be way more reckless and ends up getting hurt more unnecessarily as a result of it.

They both are capable of healing at quick rates so I'm sure that allows the pain to feel more temporary, less of a risk to sustain, and to further hone in not caring too much about getting shot. That only applies for themselves individually though because every time they see each other get hurt, they're always so so worried despite knowing the other will be fine.

i'm pretty sure i repeated myself like 800 times, but i hope this Answered the question SFGMSDKGSMDKH i also tried to be vague enough in my wordings and focus only on the beginning-ish of trimax so to not spoil! i hope u enjoy ur reading of it!!

[jtl07]

jt (finally) watches warrior nun - s1 e3 (pt 2)

First off, thanks to everyone who's been following along, especially reblogs - it's nice to know I'm not talking (too) crazy lol

Now onto the hug™ and the hallway scene! The more I look into these scenes, the more I love them and the more intrigued I am with the characters (especially Beatrice, of course).

For the hug™ scene, the thing that stood out to me was this idea of instincts in the body, and how sometimes our consciousness gets in the way. There's an interesting parallel between Ava stuck in the wall and the embrace: Ava gets stuck in the wall when her consciousness catches up with her, Bea pauses in the embrace when her consciousness catches up with her. Both were running (Ava literally) on instinct until those moments hit.

What I didn't know going into this episode - again because I've only seen clips and fanvids prior to this - was how Ava was Beatrice's singular focus in this scene. From the moment we see Beatrice and Vincent enter, she's locked onto Ava:

She glances once at Mother Superion but it's very quick; she sees nothing but Ava. Then as soon they have some semblance of privacy, she reaches out to Ava - and actually initiates contact. Additionally, it looks like she was ready for the embrace - when Ava turns towards her, her left arm comes up to receive her:

These actions all make me think that Beatrice was running on instinct here. Curious as to what made her brain catch up (or rather, her subconscious conditioning of shame et al to catch up) - maybe it was how completely trusting Ava was? How it wasn't just a lean but a full embrace? Or maybe it was that her touch was reciprocated in general? Huh maybe that's it - for someone who's been taught to hate herself, to have someone who not only accepts but trusts so completely, that definitely would have been a brain-glitching experience.

Also, can we talk about how Ava just completely trusts Beatrice here? Just moments before this, Mother Superion was rebuking Ava about her lack of trust. And yet here in this moment of pain and vulnerability, she allows herself to break down, not just in front of Beatrice but in her arms. I just - that's mindblowing to me.

This also reinforces to me the importance of the cafeteria scene - I don't think this would have been possible without it. This moment builds on top of that foundation (and then the hallway scene cements it or whatever the term is - why did I choose this analogy lol) and the fact that it's non-verbal is deeply meaningful as well, for both of them as they've not experienced a lot of gentleness.

SO MANY FEELSSSSS

Okay finally made it to the hallway scene - though side note: Does anyone else wonder how they separated from that embrace? Like, did Ava run, embarrassed? Did Bea try to comfort her? Maybe it was the former because Bea is the one who comes looking for her, and gosh how tentative she was in approaching, giving space literally and physically. And then when Ava speaks, immediately freezing, one foot on that step.

But what I really love here is how Bea's response is belief, trust. "Okay," she says, then goes into a sort of investigative mode, which is both a sign of "hey I'm on your side" and also Beatrice legitimately wanting to know, to help. As in, she doesn't ask, "what makes you think that" or try to convince Ava to think differently. "I believe you" is the subtext throughout this whole scene, and it feels like this whole scene is Beatrice trying so hard to make Ava believe that - this time in words.

And what's one of the ways she tries to get Ava to believe that she believes her? Through humor. Bea knows that Ava uses humor as a way to cope, but hasn't actually witnessed much of Ava's jokes. The only instance was, again, that scene in the cafeteria. (I wonder though if Lilith talked about Ava’s irreverence. In the cafeteria scene, you can see that there's conversation taking place all around Beatrice but she's not actually part in any of it - but I'm willing to bet she's someone who is listening to everything)

The thing with humor though, is that it's risky. Especially with someone new. From what we've seen of her so far, Beatrice doesn't seem like someone who takes risks unnecessarily (I say "seem" because my thoughts on that started to change in the next episode, which I'll talk about in the next post), so my thought here is that she's letting herself run on instinct here. And really, it's an extension again of the cafeteria scene. Yes, she started out cold there but when Ava got down on herself and says “I’m not her, you know,” Bea's immediate reaction was to reassure. The same here: She reassures with Ava with that initial "okay," again with her quiet, "perhaps the medical report was wrong" - and then that gentle, "don't let her get to you." She then follows that up with not only the sharing of Cruella DeJesus but also "I may have started it."

It's the last admission that really gets me. She didn't have to share that, and yet she did - as a moment of levity, of solidarity, and dare I say, pride. And I feel like it also is binds them with another connection: being able to find some bit of joy in a shitty situation, and through something not exactly appropriate. We see here a sort of hint of Beatrice's ability to be mean, to be angry, which I feel like the next episodes start to tap into more.

Also can I say just how young Beatrice seems here? Not just the giving of a mean nickname, but the way she smiles and leans in - like a little kid who's too eager to tell you a secret.

And then we get the reward of Ava laughing despite herself - but not only that, we get Ava who feels safe enough to be vulnerable, to ask, "Do you believe me?" And gosh, again this is just after Mother Superion was admonishing Ava about trust, here we have Ava trusting Beatrice again, trusting her enough to ask that question. I've always thought this was a lovely scene but it's incredibly gentle in context with everything else.

Can we also take a moment to appreciate how entranced Beatrice is by Ava's small smile? I found myself smiling alongside Beatrice while also being entranced by her at the same time:

(First: Ava's "thank you," Second: Bea noticing her expression, Third: Bea's "what?")

The thing with Beatrice here, she didn't have to go into any of her past with Ava. She could've dropped it. In fact, she takes a breath and holds it for a brief moment before talking about her parents (2:04 here) - it's different from the breath she takes before talking about how she took her vows young (1:55 here). There's a definite moment of hesitance, as if she started to speak then was going to take it back, then continues on. Again very small but a very nice touch, brilliantly acted by KTY.

The next moment that I love is the "I guess it kind of stuck" line - for me, this reminds me of the "I had a feeling she’d be a handful" line in ep 2. In that write up, I noted that line because of her making light of a shitty situation while also subtly kinda putting her own self down. She does the exact same thing here. And in her own way, she's also being vulnerable - and Ava, observant, smart Ava, notices. And yknow, I think it's because they have that similar joking coping mechanism that Ava knew to look closely, to be ... not "suspicious" because there's no danger, but rather to care, because she knows that kind of humor is there to hide pain.

(Ooh, maybe that's also part of why Bea chided her in the cafeteria scene? Because she recognized it in her own self?? Man, everything just goes back to that cafeteria scene)

I'll close this rambling post with a note about the small smiles Beatrice has - I mentioned it in the part 1 write up but KTY seems to have this habit of giving this little small pursed lips sort of smile when Ava seems to lose faith in herself. We saw it in the cafeteria when Ava says "It just isn't me," then in the hallway when she says "no one believes me anyway." Oh and actually, she does one before Ava speaks too (very hard to capture but it's there):

A part of me thinks that last one was just a tick, not a conscious choice on KTY's part, but it's interesting to note nonetheless - something of sympathy, of wanting to reassure.

Oh I lied I have one more thing - Bea's last line of "There's always more." I've always loved it because of the inherent truth in it and how it sounds like not just an admission but also a promise - a promise that she'll explain it eventually, if Ava gives her time. But what's added an extra layer is again the context of this scene with the cafeteria scene. Bea says in the cafeteria, "We all have a past, Ava; secrets that are ours alone." This line, "There's always more," is both an extension of it and yet a prophetic contradiction: Bea will eventually share her secret with Ava, and she won't be alone.

Alright this is a good enough place to stop - lots to think about for the next couple episodes, plus an attempt to "rewrite" 5 and 6, similar to my rewrite ponderings for episode 3. Let me know what you think if you'd like, otherwise, stay tuned for more rambling lol

[godsofhumanity]

i've been thinking about her relationship with Hera a lot for one my story ideas, and as i develop her personality, im appreciating her a little more.

Please elaborate this we’re curious now lol

ahahahaha ur wish is my command ✨

so for context. i was thinking about Typhon and how Typhon is born, and in one version, Hera gets jealous of Zeus because he "gave birth" to Athena "by himself" (he didn't need her) (technically it wasn't really by himself because Metis was still the one to conceive Athena, and she still gave birth to Athena, it was just in Zeus' head, but whatever).. and so, i'm extending off the idea that Athena's birth is what triggers Hera's decision to create Typhon as a weapon to fight Zeus with.

i think that the reason Hera gets SO furious with Zeus that she's goes to such lengths (i mean, she full on intends to destroy Zeus) is that Zeus' reaction to Athena, his recollection of Metis, was just too painful for Hera.. i mean, there are already so many bastard children around Olympus (Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Persephone, etc.), and now Athena is born, Zeus' FIRST child EVER, and Hera is like, "i can't do this anymore".

a little backstory: i like the idea that Metis and Hera were friends. not besties or anything like that, but Metis, to me, is one of the older gods in the second generation of titans, and i like the idea that she and Prometheus were Zeus' left and right-hand gods who trained him and helped him win the war against Kronos.

and so, when Zeus' siblings were freed, Metis and Prometheus both helped them "re-integrate", and Metis would have been quite close with Hera especially because Hera spent so much time in Oceanus' house (Oceanus is Metis' father).

anyways, while Prometheus became a brother to Zeus, Metis and Zeus become practically wife and husband; this reflects the nature of Metis as Zeus' first wife. i like the idea that Metis was always intended to be the first Queen of Olympus; there was never anyone else.

note: in my timeline, Metis dies before she officially becomes queen, and therefore, she dies before she actually marries Zeus for real. i like the idea that Rhea thought Zeus was too young to become king officially, and so they decided that when Zeus became king in a few years, then they would get married so that they would both be coronated at the same time.

furthermore, while i don't think Metis is Zeus' first relationship, i do hc that she is Zeus' first true love. it's not just a fling; what he feels for her is the strongest love he's ever felt in his life (until Hera enters the scene, that is). as such, the prospect of having a child with Metis is one of Zeus' greatest.. "dreams"? hopes? he wants it, is what i'm saying. but, like his father and his father's father before him, Zeus is susceptible to paranoia. and the fear that Kronos' prophecy (that his child by Metis will overthrow him) becomes too real, and in a panic (again, like Kronos), he unwittingly dissolves Metis into just divine essence lacking a physical form. and because Metis no longer has a physical body, Zeus assumes that hope is lost, and his child is gone.

that's why when Athena IS born, Zeus is so overwhelmed, so excited, and so relieved that his first-born child is alive and well and beautiful and the spitting image of his first love, Metis.

and so of course, when he sees her and she tells him that she wants to be the goddess of strategy and wisdom and warcraft, even though he's already given war to his son Ares, he immediately gives her these domains also... i think he feels that he owes at least this much to Athena and to Metis.

now, when Athena is born, it all happens in front of everyone, and so Hera is standing there too, listening as Zeus passes off part of her son's domain to this new girl and immediately awards her a place on the Olympian council when one of her own children (Eileithyia) still doesn't have one (this is a very prestigious and high honour) (Hebe and Eris are not born as yet, and Enyo is an infant at the time Athena is born, in my timeline). and naturally, she's enraged.

Hera knows what Metis meant to Zeus; she was there. and even though she wasn't in love with Zeus when Metis was, seeing Athena now join the Olympians, there's a real fear in Hera's mind that Athena could step in line before Hera's children; that Zeus will abandon Hera's children (and her too) because now he has a child from his first "marriage".

so at the beginning, i think Hera hates Athena. Metis isn't alive for Hera to hate. so she hates the daughter instead. she despises Athena because she gets the attention from Zeus that Hera's own children don't get.

most of Zeus' bastard children get better treatment than Hera's children, and therefore Hera hates most of them.

Apollo and Artemis have always been proud characters and despise Hera; as such, they would never try to lower themselves to please Hera and i think that just makes their relationship worse. they always show her the bare minimum courtesy. they would never try to make Hera feel less awkward; they would be very "loud and proud" that their mother is Leto in front of Hera.

Hermes tries to suck up to Hera, which she finds mildly irritating. however, it also makes him slightly more tolerable to Hera; better than Leto's twins, at least.

Persephone is very low-key, polite, and sweet, and because she's not really around Olympus a lot, and because she is Demeter's child, Hera doesn't really have much beef with.

Athena, while she's headstrong, doesn't purposefully try to antagonise Hera. nor does she apologise to Hera (after all, she has nothing to apologise for).. she doesn't suck up to her, she doesn't gloat.

and, when she sees the impact of her birth on Hera and Zeus' marriage, she understands that this will be troublesome in the future, and so decides that she should let Hera know that she has no intention of "usurping" the throne, or using her birthright to inherit Zeus' throne or overshadow Hera's children.

i like the idea that Athena's only motivation is to serve justice. that's why she takes on chastity vows; so she is never distracted from the righteous path. she becomes a patron of heroes because she is sort of the ultimate hero; she has heroic ideals. she's noble, she's wise, she's brave. Athena has no interest in being a queen. i think she only wants to follow Zeus and be a pillar of Olympus; she's very much Themis 2.0 to me.

so that's why she actually isn't really a threat to Hera. if there was a possibility that Leto could be a queen, i do think Apollo and Artemis would do everything they could to ensure it happened. Dionysus, when he enters the scene later on, also does his best to bring his mother up from Hades to be a goddess in Olympus, right in front of Hera. but Athena? i don't think she would do those things. she doesn't try to push her way about.

i hc that before Typhon emerges, Athena speaks to Hera and tells her all of this; but crucially, she never apologises for anything. she only makes her intentions clear. and Hera has a lot of respect for this bold move... slowly, Athena is elevated from being merely another one of Zeus' strays to a respectable goddess (though not quite an equal) in Hera's eyes.

as i said before, i like the idea that Metis and Hera became friends, and i can imagine Metis helping to train Hera. one of Metis' swords which was given to Hera, is given to Athena by Hera as a token of her newfound respect for Athena, and also as a tribute to Metis who i feel was someone Hera was fond of and whose death she was affected by.

anyways. as we all know, in later myths, Athena and Hera sometimes appear on the same side, particularly against Zeus, so i believe the two find common-ground. they're neither friends, nor stepmother-and-stepdaughter, but something else; like that one person at work you don't want to see outside of work, but they're the only person in the workplace you can actually tolerate.

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #26

Batgirl (2000) #11 Writer: Kelley Puckett Pencils: Damion Scott and Coy Turnbull Ink: Dan Davis

Something weird going on with the art this time. First few pages are pencilled by Turnbull, then there's a scene shift and suddenly it's Scott for a while, then it's back to Turnbull. Were there re-writes of part of this issue and Scott wasn't available to redo them? Did Scott just run out of time, or did something happen to pull him away? The next issue is a guest team as part of a bat books crossover, but then the usual team is back for #13. This is a case where knowing more of the behind the scenes stuff might be insightful, but all I've got to go on is the finished product, so here we go.

Anyway, this time is a David Cain focused story, and as usual I'm a sucker for early David Cain, back when there was still this core of genuine sentimentality that gave depth to both David as a character and to Cass's relationship with him.

This issue picks up on what he's been up to since the last time Bruce stopped by to beat the crap out of him, and there are several good David moments:

Escaping from armed guards in the hospital despite a near fully body cast, handcuffs, and restraints. Love that little smile in the third panel there, like 'haha, I still got it.' This is Turnbull's David, and it's not bad, even if I prefer Scott's.

Then there's this bit where he's talking up a girl at a bar cut with flashbacks/delusions, and this is Scott's art:

That's a real cheap excuse for the shock value cover.

But it's funny, so I forgive it. Telling a made up story about beating batman and so caught up in it he's fooling himself. Dude must be on the good pain killers. His faces are great here.

But the whole bar scene is effectively a set up for this page. Little Cass in the background, projected from David's tapes, the Cass of David's memories, training to be an assassin, excelling, loving it. Bruce and David silhouetted in the foreground, fighting over her. The central question 'What were you two fighting about' answered not by text but by just the image of little Cass looking back at the camera, at her father, smiling and full of pride.

David's face on the next page, suddenly so sober and sad. Again, the sentimentality over Cass is the absolute core of this character. That later versions pretend he never really cared about her, that she was only a tool or a weapon or a product to him... I'm still mad about it.

"Made her like us." Direct acknowledgment from Bruce of the parallels between him and Cain, rather than just implied.

Bruce leaves David his tapes, but while he was at hospital the police took them and sent them to evidence storage in Gotham. In Gotham? Did David live anywhere near Gotham? Did he move closer to Gotham because Cass is there?

Whatever. The rest of the issue is David getting his tapes back, all drawn by Turnbull...

Apparently the beating from Bruce stuck with him. Cute.

But of course as he's getting away...

Turnbull's David is fine, but I can't say I'm a fan of his Cass. It's not terrible, though.

God, this bad dad is so sad.

While the art flips back and forth between Turnbull and Scott, the writing is Puckett throughout, and it shows, especially in the scene with Cass at the end. Again, no internal narration text for Cass, just David. And she hardly says anything.

But you can feel the emotional turmoil here. This is David Cain, the man who isolated and abused her. The murderer who turned her into a murderer. But he was also her father, who loved her, who she loved. And here he is, despite his injuries, risking capture by the police or by Batman, not for a job, not for killing, not for money, but to hold onto the tiny piece of their life together that he has left. And he's telling her he's sorry, and he means it but also sorry can't fix any of it no matter how sincere he means it, so what does she say to that?

There's nothing she can say, she just lets him take the tapes and go, and only lets her mask of anger slip to say goodbye after he's already gone.

That's so good, right? That's the angst! That's the emotional turmoil! That's so core to Cass's character, and it's why the eventual flanderization of David Cain isn't just a problem for David's character, but for Cass's as well.

But anyway, yeah, whatever was going on with the art aside, this is a great issue. Good Bruce/David stuff, good Cass/David stuff, good David-on-his-own stuff. So much sad bad dad content. And despite the more personal focus still a functional stand alone story to slot into this brief stretch of episodic issues in the run.

We've still got a few more appearances left to go for the good David. There's also a crossover arc where he's eventually revealed as the main (or at least insighting) antagonist, but I honestly don't remember how well he was characterized there. When the Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive crossover rolls around we'll take a broader look at the whole crossover instead of focusing just on Cass's appearances. But that's still a ways away, so not worth worrying too much about it now.