#and how those with limited access to money will do what they need to

[basilibino]

Re reading A Doll's House and I have the same opinion I had when I first saw it performed my junior yr of high school—it's wild but not surprising that the class element is overlooked in comparison to the sexism narrative

[moeblob]

A lil guy !

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

What the food pantry on campus does:

- gives me snacks and drinks to supplement my regular groceries, breakfast stuff, maybe ingredients for 1-2 actual meals

What the food pantry is really bad at doing:

- giving me food I can make into proper meals for the week

Oh you want juice? Here’s 2 little juice boxes. Nothing else; they’re limited. You want pasta sauce? 1 can; limited. You want produce? 2 produce item limit, except for the apples which are starting to spoil. You can have all of those. You want frozen chicken? One container only. Oh, they’re all stuck together and frozen? Sorry, you can’t have two; no chicken, I guess. Pasta? One box only. Rice? Two small bags, max. Breakfast bars? Yeahhhh, those are a snack, and you can only have five snacks, total. But if you put those pop tarts back, you could have some! Oh, you want donuts instead? Sure! But that’s a bakery item, and you can only have one baked good, so you’re gonna need to put that bread back. You want ziploc bags? Here, have two. Not two boxes, two bags. Item limits. Sorry. You can come back next week!

How the fuck are people supposed to actually *use* these things for weekly meal planning if there’s not enough to last a week???

I swear I am grateful for these resources I’m sure they’re doing the best they can with what they have I’m just *frustrated*. I’m trying to spend less on groceries bc I can’t really afford them. It’s nice that the food pantry gives me these small portions to last me a couple days. But that still leaves several days with not enough food unless I’m really creative or go grocery shopping, and I simply do not have the energy or time to be really creative.

[cornerstoreclown]

Workshop Fun

Summary: This is a short one-shot (7021 words) where the Reader (female) has an established relationship with Art the Clown, and has been kiiiind of collaborating with him passively. Reader is wearing a dress for the sole purpose of easy access. Reader has a vulva and breasts. 

Contents: Biting, light spanking, ...phone... sex? Having an unknowing participant on the other line is the only way I can word it, light spanking, lots of making out, clothed sex, BDSM, Art being cruel, p in v penetration, finger sucking and light body worship

Author’s notes: Sorry what took me so long to do this, I’ve been sitting on this for years! Male version will be out in a few days. This is LIGHTLY proofread, so keep your expectations at a level where you won’t be surprised if there’s any mistakes. Also once again I am an Art the Clown front zipper truther for my clothed sex kink.

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You loved him.

Did he kill people? Yes. Did he sometimes allude to killing you as well? Absolutely. Has he acted on it yet? Not fully, but you could tell that sometimes he had that compulsion to go through with it, when he’d get that twinkle in his eye.

 Especially when you were up close and personal with him, your bodies merely inches apart, sometimes with him even holding a weapon in hand. He’s a wild animal. A force of evil locked away in the confines of a corporeal body made of flesh and bone.

And yet, all the same, you loved him. The way that his hands would travel across your flesh and explore the parts of you that you never let anyone else. Sometimes he’d leave bruises, other times scratches. Then there were the bite marks. Each intimate encounter would leave you in a different state of mess. He was the lover who was like a cat. One day he’d be here, gone the next. You couldn’t put a thumb on the patterns.

The waits were long, but you’re loyal, and you’re patient. You didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. You’d wait until the ends of the earth for him. Sometimes during the months that he wasn’t here, you’d dream of him. All of these little fantasies you’d have in your head would sometimes come to visit you behind your closed lids, where reality had no limitations. It would make the ache feel less. Every time that he’d come back, you made sure to find him as quickly as possible the second you heard whisperings pertaining to sightings of him, or any kind of crime scene that felt like it had his signature on it. Sometimes he’d find you first.

Art wasn’t someone who was very materialistic. And money meant next to nothing to Art—the personification of evil had very little need for the vast kinds of desires that plagued man.

But he wasn’t necessarily immune to the pleasures of the flesh, you learned. Despite how for the most part, he remained heavily uninterested in intimacy, he had a few moments here and there, and you capitalized on them when you could. You had a feeling tonight would be one of those nights.

Or, well, you hoped.

Worst case scenario he’d turn you away or ignore any advances, and he has a few times. And that was okay.

You came into his hideout tonight with confidence instilled in you, but yet the excitement still makes your stomach do flips. It’s been too long, and the fire within your chest is reignited. You feel passion, you feel love so strong that it’s enough to keep you up at night, and it has happened plenty of times before. You wonder if he’s got some sort of spell over you, and you’d believe it if that were the case. You’ve never fallen so madly, deeply, for anyone before like you have him. It could be enough to make you physically ill if you thought about how much you loved him. Such a passion came with such a detriment to you.

Past the damaged doors of a since abandoned fairly abandoned warehouse, you have a smooth descent down the stairs, leading you to a type of basement setting. There’s plenty of water dripping. Rats squeaking as they chitter and skitter along. You catch glimpses of them in the dim lighting, but they don’t bother you. As long as you didn’t see a bunch of them with their tails tied together, you wager you’ll be pretty okay.

You dressed up nicely for him tonight.

You weren’t really a dress kind of person, but tonight you made it an exception. It wasn’t fancy or over the top, and by the love of god, it had pockets. You refused to wear heels however, whatever shoes you had that worked and didn’t give you the possibility of breaking your ankle down these flights of stairs was the option you went with. Art might have found it funny if you hurt yourself, but you aren’t too keen on getting yourself dinged up before he gets the chance to do it himself.

The dress was about one thing–accessibility. Easy to lift up, easy for him to slide in right where he belonged.

You loved when he was inside of you, when you’d feel the heat of his heavy breath against the back of your neck. You run your hands over the spot where you last remember feeling the warmth of his breath. You remember being beneath him and feeling as if the very heat that he quietly exhaled felt as if it were smoldering your skin, burning you like the way the flames of hell were supposed to. If being with this clown meant that you’d be burning in the afterlife, you’d gladly bathe yourself in the inferno.

Your stomach flutters.

You shouldn’t be this excited. He’s a murderer. A killer. A man with no morals, and you’re not even sure if he was a man sometimes at all. Yet, his darkness is what drew you in. He was your safe space, and no one would dare come into that space to try and harm you so long as you were in his arms.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you see it–a single dangling light, and illuminating this dark space is a double door that is plainly rusted. You see a bloody handprint on it. It’s since dried.

You recognize the size of that hand, and feel slightly lighter, just in the moment.

Placing your own hand in the exact space over Art’s bloodied print, you push the door open. The door is a little on the heavy side, but with enough force, the door opens.

“Art?” You call out, making sure that your presence is acknowledged as friendly and not hostile. The room is a little darkly lit, very heavy on the minimum lighting that’s needed to navigate in the space. It most certainly added to the creepy ambiance. Straight ahead, there sat none other than Art. His back was given to you. He was sitting on a stool, hammering away at something on his workbench. He turns his head upon hearing his name, and you see that he gives you a smile, baring his rotted discolored teeth as his eyes are closed. You can see the wrinkles form a little in the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

You liked that. You liked the details etched into his face. It added character among those otherwise gaunt features of his.

“Hey, buddy.” You call out to him, and he gives you a little wave, before gesturing for you to come closer.

You approach him, and once you’re near the bench with him, you can see when you’re close enough that he gives you a once over, assessing you… Judging you, for what it is you’re wearing tonight.

“Like it?” You ask him, twirling from side to side so that your dress splays out a little. It’s simple. Gets the job done. And if it got ruined? No love loss.

Art’s gaze seems fixed on you, first on your dress, then up at you. For a man who doesn’t speak, his eyes seem to say all that needs to be said, as he reaches for the end of your dress and starts to lift it, until you gently smack the top of his hand. Art draws his hand back to his side immediately, glancing up at you, looking a little like a kid that was chided.

Naughty of him, trying to get a sneak peek beforehand.

“Not yet,” You tell him.

Art looks a little irritated, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. At least he seems interested tonight.

You clear your throat, and Art’s attention is still locked on you. He’s watching you expectantly.

“You’ve settled in quite nicely.” It was just yesterday you surveyed the area on his behalf, and helped him move in properly. Already on his workbench, he has got quite a few improvised weapons he’d been working on. Your eyes go to one weapon in particular, and you point at it.

“What’s that?”

Art turns to look at the weapon you’ve pointed out, and when he lifts it to proudly show it, it’s exactly what it looked like–an improvised flail. Attached to a long metal rod, is a long wire, and when your eyes follow to the end of the wire, you see wrapped around in such an intricate and meticulous way are a variety of knives, serving as what would be the ‘spikes’. You’re impressed. He even hands it to you, to which you take it. It’s got a decent weight to it, too. Not too heavy, but not too light.

“Woah.” You say, as Art watches you, quite proud of how dazzled you are. He’s an artist at heart, you knew this. The knives have some rust on them. One of them looks stained from a previous bloody encounter. He’s clearly working with whatever he’s got on him.

“If anyone survives this, they better pray they don’t get tetanus.” You muse, and Art’s face twists in amusement in a silent laugh. You hand the weapon back to him, and he takes it once he’s done getting in a few silent chuckles at your joke, gently placing it back down on the table.

No one escapes Art with their soul still in their body. Literal or figurative. You were either dead, or you were burdened with his encounter your entire life, both physically and mentally.

You weren’t any different. Your bruises and bites and scars have been out of love. One could argue that you got off easy, but you’d argue otherwise.

Being in love with the Miles County Clown is torture in and of itself. There were nonstop dreams that came with it. It seemed as if every other week he’d plague you in your sleep. Not to mention that you had to be extremely clever to not be caught under affiliation with him–which was even more stress. So far, though, so good.

He’s worth it, you tell yourself. Even if he wasn’t anymore, there’s no way you could leave. He’d kill you. And you have zero doubts that your death wouldn't be painless.

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave all the time.” You begin to tell him. Art’s expression is neutral, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. His teeth are bared, as they often are. Your tone isn’t one of whining, but of yearning. You know that this came with the territory, and you readily accepted his lack of presence at any given time.

But it didn’t hurt to dream. Art tilts his head, watching you from where he sits curiously.

“Maybe one day we can find some place that… Is ours. Separate from… This.” You gesture towards the weapons he’s making. Every so often he hides somewhere different to prepare for the trouble he intends to cause. “A place that maybe once you’re done for the day, we both can be in to unwind. And a permanent place for you that isn’t just my apartment. But like. A place for you. For us.”

Taking him to your apartment kept getting riskier and riskier each time. Also, he made it quite clear he didn’t really care for your decor. Giving him his own place to make his own that he could express himself would be ideal, and it wouldn’t be like a place he’d have to abandon every year. He could actually have and keep stuff… If he wanted to even do that.

The more you think about it, the more you’re starting to think it sounds silly. You see the way that he’s looking at you, and he appears very stern. Sharp.

Your confidence begins to drop, and as you’re about to speak again, you stammer, before laughing nervously.

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, that was a silly idea–any long term space we made for you would probably get found out eventually, too. I–”

The stool screams as it’s slid across the ground, back towards the bench when he stands up. It sounded like one of his many victims. You go quiet as he’s hovering over you, and you swallow any words that you might have wanted to tell him.

The silence is heavy. His shoulders are rising and falling, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Seconds tick by and they feel more like minutes, and you can’t stand it any longer. You open your mouth to speak, but you’re swiftly cut off.

Art yanks you by the collar of your dress, and forces his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide briefly in surprise, but they close as soon as you register what’s happening, and you moan in the kiss. Art’s a bit of a sloppy kisser, but you’ve come to love it. His taste was acrid as well, but you craved the bitterness at this point, no longer gagging like you used to. As he leans forward to kiss you harder, you put more of yourself in it as well, mixing his intensity with your passion and desire that’s been left simmering for months.

Now it’s boiling over.

Art places both of his hands on either side of your face, and it’s like he’s trying to suffocate you with his kisses, barely giving you much time to breathe in between them. You’re getting a little lightheaded.

He pulls away from your lips to kiss you a few times on the cheek, then nuzzling his face against yours. Almost like a cat.

It gives you the chance to catch your breath. His hands reach for yours, and you let him, feeling the way that his fingers interlace with your own. You look down at the way that your fingers intertwined with his dirtied and calloused ones. He was a man who worked with his hands–in more ways than one. Those same fingers belonged to the same hands that would worship you, tear and pull at you without ever breaking you completely in half. Sometimes it’d be close, but never fully. They would sometimes draw blood when the nails would sink into your flesh and leave behind crescent marks. Other times, those hands would strangle you, smack you–slap you, and bring a sting across your body that reminded you just how alive you were. Then those same hands would caress you. Cradle you.

He’d cut you on a few occasions, but they were never lethal. And with every cut, his tongue followed.

You feel reverence. Especially as you press a kiss to the tip of his fingers–you kiss each one, tenderly, making eye contact with him as you do so.

Art watches knowingly. He raises his head a little so that when he watches you, he’s looking down at you, all too aware of how you worship him. And he accepts it. But only from you. Just you. No one else.

After kissing each finger, from pinkie to thumb, you stop back at his index, soft lips pressed against the pad of it. His fingers were stained. Caked in whatever gore and dirt and grime he’d touched earlier.

Not that you cared, nor would you let it stop you. You’re a freak. Not well in the head. You’d lick any and all of his love off of the world's sharpest blade if that’s the only way he gave it. If he wanted you to cut your tongue on it, you would.

Bringing his index finger to your mouth, you wrap your lips around it, and watch him. He tastes exactly how you’d expect—foul and wretched. You catch the faintest hint of iron. A taste that you’ve come to associate pleasantly with him. That part feels right.

Art’s gaze is fixed on you. You can’t read his thoughts, and though he doesn’t speak, you recognize what that look means. Even as he observes you, teeth bared subtly, head still held high, which he inclines just slightly as you take another finger in your mouth–his middle one.

You suck his fingers lewdly, and close your eyes. You imagine it’s his cock, even though you know that his fingers can’t compare to the real deal. You push your tongue through his index and middle as you take more of him in your mouth. Art watches your tongue work around him, until he decides to press down on the muscle, effectively stopping you.

You stare at him.

Seconds linger in silence, and he relinquishes pressure off of your tongue, letting you move it freely again.

And you do. You hold his hand and go back to kissing his fingers before fellating them. Index first. Then the middle. And finally the ring finger–all three at once. The taste of iron is stronger. You sigh a gentle moan as you pull your head back and give him back his hand. You kiss at the tips of his fingers again. As you’re about to take his fingers a third time, he leans forward instead, his lips taking yours. You feel the way that he seizes both of your wrists as he floods your senses all over again, and you let him.

You try to say his name in between the kisses, but each time you get a breath between the barrage of affection that seems to practically swallow you whole, Art steals your voice with another passionate kiss. Again, his taste is bitter, his teeth are damn near rotten, but you’ve gotten so accustomed to the flavor that it doesn’t make you gag. It makes you feel only slightly sickly. But the arousal overrides any lingering discomfort.

It’s disorienting. It’s all so much at once. You feel your body temperature rise. Art gives you back one of your wrists, but in doing so, he places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you in against him, until there’s no space left between you.

That’s when you feel it. You feel the heat of his erection pressed against your thighs. You’ve excited him enough, it being quite clear the effect your mouth had on him.

You smile, but his lips are back at yours again, and the taste of bitterness hits at the back of your tongue—the most sensitive taste receptors lighting up and ripping any smugness you had straight out of you as you close your eyes and sigh softly. His tongue mingles with yours.

He begins to move, forcibly taking you with him as you change where you’re standing, so that he’s no longer the one whose back is facing the workbench–it’s you. You feel the edge of the table bump against your ass. With your positions effectively switched, you don’t mind at all, far too enraptured by the kisses of your clown lover.

This was pure bliss.

He pulls away from your lips, now kissing the corners of your mouth, then going to your jawline, until he’s at your neck, sucking and licking and nibbling, giving you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard. You close your eyes and moan softly.

This is the few times of the year that you get this. It was the time that you’d be peppered in kisses, ravaged, and torn asunder in such a way that it would take you almost the remaining however many days, months, or years until you’d see him again to put yourself back together.

“Art…” You laugh a little when his lips tickle a part of your neck. He silences you again with his lips to yours. You feel the way that he nips at your tongue this time and draws a little blood. The endorphins from the pain gives you a pleasant buzz. He bites your bottom lower lip next, taking note of how he’s beginning to use his teeth more and more during this exchange, and you think about how he’s eaten the faces of his victims before.

You could be next.

He pulls away and kisses at the corners of your lips a second time. He’s obsessed with using his mouth. Your eyes finally open, and you gently move your head back a bit, until Art finally stops, the both of you staring into each other's eyes. His teeth are bared all the same as they were before, but there’s a sultry gaze you’re familiar with. Up this close, you can see the more subtle details of him.

Like his lashes, which otherwise, from a distance is obscured by the paint over his face.

How could someone–or… Something, be so monstrous… Yet so… pretty? You could get lost in his gaze. You could drown in it. And he knows that. And he likes that power over you.

Your lips turn upwards into a soft smile, and you feel a desire pool at your groin. It’s an undeniable throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. Nevermind that you can feel his own arousal against you. He’s warmer than you–he feels like he’s practically burning up, compared to you, and the body heat radiating from him only serves to make you hotter in turn. Right to the point where you’re developing a thin sheen of sweat across your brow.

“I love you.”

He watches you, and through his body language and eyes, you understand him through his reaction. You see a slow, smug smile appear on his face.

Very much an, I know. No sign of reciprocation. That would be too heavy of an ask from someone like him. But him being receptive to your love was a testament to how much he liked you.

Not that you expected anything less from a cold killer such as the Miles County Clown. The fact that he hasn’t yet killed you throughout all these years speaks in a kind of love on its own, you’d think.

Maybe not the one that people would refer to as being actually in love, but for him, for Art, it was. Love was tolerance. Love was allowing you to live.

You feel a hand slip up your dress again, and this time, you don’t stop him. You part your legs for him this time, willingly letting him indulge in what you denied him earlier. Through your panties you feel his thick fingers, his index and middle pressing against your clit, sliding down between your cunt and back up again. He threatens to penetrate you with the tips of his fingers through your panties with a gentle prod, but doesn’t follow through on it.

You ache, feeling more empty than ever.

He’s doing this on purpose. All because you told him to wait earlier.

“Art,” You say his name with a weak laugh, and he stops to look at you, knowingly, at that, well aware of what it is he’s doing. His little way of being petty with you, and he continues once more, trailing his fingers up and down between your thighs, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s been months,” You plead for him. His face is still inches from yours, and you lean more of yourself against him, as your voice gets low. He observes you through half lidded eyes, analyzing you, assessing you and sizing you up. He’s no longer smiling, and his lips are downturned ever so slightly. The expression looks more neutral now.

“I wanna have some fun.” You purse your lips. “Put your weapon crafting down for a bit?”

Your tone is pleading. It’s a mix of a command and a request–you’re voicing your thoughts. You try to get a reading on his response through his eyes, but he’s put up a wall that you can’t breach. He’s unreadable. It’s been months upon months since you’ve both done anything together.

“…Please?”

Art’s gaze is still indecipherable. It makes you a little nervous. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand up. Did he change his mind suddenly?

Had it been anyone else, you know they’d be dead instantly. There was no wondering about that. Not a speculation or doubt in your mind. You hated when he did this, when he was fucking with you like this, leaving you in silence. It’s in times like these that you’re reminded that you’re with a wild animal, and he could snap at any second if he decided he was hungry. It was part of the risk you took and the bargain you struck.

Maybe he’d just stab you here and now. Slit your throat and call it a fucking day because he decided that, nope, don’t wanna keep doing this anymore! He could. Again, he’s pushed you away before. Other days he’s yanked you in against him. His mood was unpredictable, hard to guess, and as volatile as a storm across an ocean.

Without another word, you’re turned around, and the flat of Art’s palm travels down your spine as he presses the front of your body forward and down onto the workbench. He gives you time to adjust, so that you’re at least able to rest your forearms on the table top. As of right now, your tits are squished against the surface of the table. It’s a little uncomfortable.

This is surprisingly tender, all things considered. You remember one time when he’d been fucking you on his workbench, how he tied your hands together with some zipties and then choked you out by wrapping some rusty metal chains around your neck. And that was only after he’d finished whipping your breasts, thighs and ass until you were a bloody bruised mess barely hanging on. You still have some scars from those times. He loved to twirl you over the line of death like it was all one dance, pulling you back at the last second.

You go from feeling his palm to the fingertips travel down your back. If it weren’t for the fabric of your dress in the way, you know those blood and dirt stained fingertips would have tickled you by now. And he’s done that in the past while fucking you–tickling you mercilessly. He even makes a point to wiggles his fingers a little against your back on the way down playfully. You can’t help but laugh a little as you exhale, letting some of the excitement stirring within you leave your body through your lungs. Your breaths are getting deeper, and in times like this, when he thrills you in such a way, you’re reminded just how much he makes you feel…

Alive.

Because when you’re with him, death is always hot on your heels. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t be gentle,” You tell him. He knows. You know he knows.

You hear the metallic zipper from the front of his suit go down as the teeth on the track separate and reveal the body of a man beneath that clown visage. You steal a glance over your shoulder to admire his pale skin that covered over such a thin frame. Amazing how a build such as his carries such supernatural strength.

Unceremoniously, he gets right to work, giving your ass a firm slap after lifting the back of your dress, letting it crumple up over your hips. You yelp gently as you know that there’s likely already a red spot on your rump. Art rubs the spot on your ass he’d slapped, then gives it a gentle squeeze.

You make the decision to look over your shoulder, right on time to experience watching when the killer clown makes the decision that you no longer are in need of your panties. His dirtied fingers slip within the space between the elastic waistband of your undergarment and your skin. He lets it snap against your flesh once–that’s about the extent of use it gets before he grabs whatever meager fistful he can of that excuse of ‘modesty’ you brought to him and rips it clean off your form.

“Ow!”

You told him to be rough. And he’s planning on taking that quite literally, as he’s taking it for not just the sex, but all of what precedes it apparently. He’s quietly laughing to himself, teeth showing, eyes crinkled.

“Glad you got some entertainment out of it.”

A few more noiseless giggles then he sobers up. Back to the task at hand—fucking your brains out.

He aligns himself right up against your warm dripping cunt, hands gripping your hips so tightly that his filthy fingertips leave stains on your dress. His nails are so sharp you swear that if he tried to sink them in any further, he’d pierce the cloth and right into your flesh. You inhale sharply again, bracing for the moment he sinks in. You feel the tip of his cock press against you and begin to push in, the head barely getting the chance even to get inside you before it slips and glides between the crack of your ass as he misses. Your excitement stutters for a second, but then ramps back up higher than before, impatience and desire washing over you wholly like a wave.

You’ve been grabbing at the edge of the workbench, hands holding tight and then releasing them of their grip every so often to relax your muscles. You don’t say anything.

He’s annoyed at missing you the first push in.

With a look of disgruntlement he instead opts for one hand reaching to push your head down against the table with such a cruel force that makes you worry for a split second that he was trying to crush your skull. It was his way of trying to steady you as he then uses his other hand to line the head of his cock right against your cunt for the second time.

You shiver as you feel him, hands turning to fists that you clench tightly as inch by agonizing inch, he spreads you and fills you out easily. Your body did the heavy work, and has been prepping for him for the last ten minutes. It’s slick, and he can feel the wetness of your cunt hit against his balls when he bottoms out within you. That’s when you sigh in relief.

He almost pulls all the way out, then rams into you roughly, making you exhale sharply as the table shakes upon impact. The few tools laid out shuddered until they stilled. Give or take a few more times of this, and he finally releases his hand on your head, but you still opt to keep your head down.

The rhythm he has is a little awkward at first, but he is quick to course correct, both hands firmly planted on your hips, keeping you steady. You can’t see his face right now, but you’ve seen it plenty of times when you’ve fucked before. How his mouth would go into that ‘o’ shape, and the way his eyes would go half mast, holding nothing but a glimpse of paradise behind him as you could see that he was as close to heaven as his wicked self could get. You were beautiful to him, as far as sacks of flesh and blood went. And you could tell the times that he looked at you in such a predatory manner that there was restraint behind it.

You feel the pressure build up within you at a steady rate as he leans over you, chest pressed against your back, sucking on your neck, marking you. Then he nips. Then kisses, then sucks so goddamn hard on the same spot that you swear that he’s trying to suction your flesh right off your body.

It doesn’t take long for you to be so close. He’s so warm. The sound of his body slapping against yours, mixed with the creak of the workbench that’s forced to undergo the assault of you being rammed into it, a few quiet moans slip past your lips to join along.

You’re unbearably close, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, just a little more and—

Your phone goes off.

You forgot to silence it.

You feel it vibrating in the pocket of your dress. The ringtone scares the shit out of you and Art, who abruptly jumps a little while still on top of you.

“Of course.” You say sarcastically. “Of course! Who the fuck is calling me?!” You’re irritated now, mood under threat of being ruined. The excitement you felt shrivels up.

Reaching inside your hiked up dress pocket, you pull out your phone and check to see who had the audacity to try and get a hold of you in your time of undoing.

Your friend. Sort of. He was like a close acquaintance? If you could call him that. You met him when you were out and about one night. He’s an okay dude, hasn’t done anything wrong.

If only he didn’t harbor a romantic interest in you when you were already spoken for. But how could you begin to tell someone that you’re involved with a psychopathic killer clown? Specifically the Miles County Clown?

You’re ready to send him right to voicemail, until the phone is seized right out of your hand from over your shoulder.

“Hey!”

Your protest is in vain, as Art too, looks at who is calling you right now. You had HOPED he’d take a look at it, have his curiosity sated, maybe turn the phone off or better yet, you’d even forgive him if he tossed it over his shoulder, just this once!

But the look he’s giving you, then the phone, makes your heart sink as you realize.

“Art, don’t do it—“

His expression turns wicked, mouth upturned into the most shiteating grin you’ve ever seen.

“Art, I swear to god—“

But god’s not here, nowhere to be found in this workshop. God’s forsaken you. Doing the devils tango with a demon can do that.

Giggling silently to himself, in an act of deliberate defiance against you as well as likely for his very own amusement, he accepts the phone call for you and places it right to your ear.

What a gentleman. Truly.

You’re going to fucking kill him. You try to take the phone away from him, but he merely pulls it back out of your reach.

“Hello?”

You can hear the voice on the other end of the line. Art brings it down to your ear again and you try to make a reach for it a second time, only for him to do the exact same thing as before, silently cackling all the while. It’s become apparent that he’s not going to let you have it.

“Hellooooo?”

With a resigned sigh, you don’t fight him any further. Art puts the phone to your ear for the third time.

“Hey.” You answer wearily.

“Hey!” His voice on the other end of the line is suddenly lighter, filled with levity. You can hear the way that his breath is hitched in the back of his throat. Static tinges at the edges of his words.  Must be a shoddy connection down here.

“How are you?”

“I’m–” You start to answer, but are interrupted by Art going back to rocking his hips into you while still over you. Once again, you look over your shoulder to give him the stink eye.

“I’m good, just uh, you know. Hanging out.” You respond, exhaling deeply as Art stirs the fire within you again after it had just begun to cool down.

“Nice, me too.” He says, and lets the silence between you both sink in for a few seconds. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

This would all be so much easier if you weren’t getting dicked down.

“I… I’m uh–”

He’s pounding into you from behind now, still leaning over you, holding the phone for you in one hand and keeping the other on the workbench for stability. Each fluid roll of his hips is equally tantalizing as the previous, his body connecting with yours in such a familiar way you craved. The table shakes, and you’re gripping the edges of it for dear life. You can hear his heavy breath from behind you, excitement building in each time he fills and empties his lungs.

“Art–” You say his name through grit teeth like a warning, with annoyance in your tone, but the excitement you feel, the rush and the thrill of it all has you coming close to release. Why does this feel so good? This man, this sweet man, who has done nothing wrong to you, interested in you, blissfully unaware that your heart belongs to someone else, being fooled like this. It’s wrong. This is wrong. Art knew about this man. He knew about him for some time. Art made it clear that he hated him. The only reason he’s still breathing is because you asked Art not to put this man’s head on a pike, but you fear it’s only a matter of time until your clown lover eviscerates this trespasser for encroaching on what he perceives as his territory–you.

“Art?" He repeats.

This is all an act of revenge done on the Art’s part. His pettiness knew no bounds.

“Yeah, art. You know–Mhn–” Your nails dig into the edge of the workbench as if that’ll somehow make a difference in the fact that he’s pounding into your cunt with such an aggressive force that begins to make you ache.

“You know, p-painting? Drawing. That sort of thing.”

You can only pray the ungodly sinful noises of his skin slapping against yours can’t be heard over the line.

“Ohhh… Well, hey, you wanna hangout sometime soon? It’s been a bit. Wanted to catch up with you if that’s fine.”

You’re not paying attention to a damn thing this dude is saying. It’s just words, in one ear, straight out the other.

“Uhuh.” You say without thinking. You’re close. You’re unbearably close as Art angles himself in such a way that hits just right. He knows how you work all too well. He knows how to unwind you and how to pull you apart piece by piece like it’s second nature to him.

Art’s pushing you towards the cliff, and there’s no stopping it. Your vision starts to blur a little. Your breathing deepens, and Art knows what’s about to come next, which only seems to spur him on as well, exciting him to the point where now he’s going fast not just for you, but for himself, chasing his own orgasm hot on its heels.

“How’s about next Thursday, at 7pm? There’s a new restaurant across the street from where we both met—“

The phone becomes nothing short of white noise. This shouldn’t feel so right, it shouldn’t. But it does. Gods above, it does.

You feel yourself lose sense of the world around you. There’s nothing but ringing in your ears, and you realize how little time you have to prepare before it’s too late.

Your orgasm crashes into you and is ripped out of you all within seconds. You try to keep quiet, your voice strangled and choked out in the process. Your release is violent as it tears you between what feels like the state of life and death. Your cunt tightens around his cock, squeezing him in contractions that trigger him in turn. Art hisses like a serpent, feeling his muscles lock up and knowing that he only has a few seconds to bury himself to the hilt within you, and he does. His face twists into an ugly and horrid expression as he comes inside you, dropping the phone on the workbench in the process while filling you with all the pent up energy he had been keeping away from you for months.

All of what he’d been denying you was now yours.

“Hello?”

You’re finally coming back into your own body a few meager seconds later when you register the voice, and hurriedly grab the phone before Art gets the chance.

“Can I call you back?” You ask, holding the phone to your mouth, but you weren’t really asking. Your friend had no real say in it, and before he even gets the chance to respond, you hang up. And then you lower your head and sigh. All the while, Art has since recovered, but his legs are shaky. You shove him off of you, and he stumbles back with an uneven balance, post orgasm weakened. Goofily he fumbles past the stool from earlier, which he tries to grab but fails in doing so. Instead, he lands right on his ass.

You’re sure to follow that up by throwing your phone at his head, which it does, but it lands with a clack right beside him. The only reason you felt remotely confident in doing that is because you’re both that close. Well, that and irritation made you a bold motherfucker sometimes. Yet despite all of that, he sits there, a wickedly amused smile on his face.

You pull your dress back down. Your legs tingle and you swear you feel some of his come dripping down your thigh, but you’re not sure.

“Proud of yourself, huh?” You ask, leaning against the bench for balance until you get your footing.

Yes. Yes he was proud of himself!

The rest of the night was spent at Art’s temporary hideaway space, lamenting the loss of your panties and calling back your guy friend who had unknowingly been part of something much more than he knew. And you’d never tell him. Not that you would ever have the chance to tell him really anything at all anymore in the future.

You had no idea at the time that Art would meet your friend the day you were both set to reconvene. But you should have known better, and a part of you already did. The reason you know he was dead was because he ended up on the local news the next day missing.

That, and Art had saved the man’s heart specifically for you when you came to visit him again.

[cookiecakecookie-cake]

Some food for thought on Self Aware AUs

cws: psychological horror elements, existentialism, ddlc mention and some use of machine lingo. this is mainly focused towards cookie run self aware aus, but this could apply to any fandom, really.

thinking about how horrifying a self aware au would be, strictly speaking. like, no magic, no multiversal shenanigans, just "these are characters INSIDE A GAME that become aware of the fact that they're in a game." of course you kinda have to take some liberties, but what would they be able to do, realistically? i understand the appeal of the idea, but i feel people take way more liberties than what would actually happen.

i mean, their options are extremely limited. you would think "well, why can't they just change their code?" but in effect, that'd be like trying to perform surgery on yourself while you're still awake.

speaking as a programmer, it's nearly impossible to edit anything inside of a program while it's running. you HAVE to shut it off before making ANY change. there are some cases where you can edit a program while its running, but you would be unable to see the effects until you reboot the software, and there's a good chance that any half-baked edits may cause a game breaking bug. they're insanely common in just small programs, god forbid a whole-ass game.

the best case for being able to make a significant change while a game is running would be using console commands/dev tools. you know that black box monika pulls up whenever she deletes a character? that's what i'm talking about. she can't change or add anything significantly new to the game, but a console? a console is completely different.

while trying to edit code while a program is running is, again, practically impossible, accessing console commands is a whole different ballpark. a game like crk has to have a console, they're basically mandatory to make any bug-testing actually feasible. the only drawback is that you're limited to the actual commands available, which is probably just simple stuff. there's also a good chance that a dev tool like that would be removed from the public releases of the game.

stuff like this probably means that only cookies who already have some programming experience under their belt would be the ones able to do anything significant. cookies like strawberry crepe, clotted cream, and mozzarella (or the cheese empire cookies in general) probably have the most power here. i could also see black sapphire or butter roll having some knowledge on this end too, but they probably have more experience on the hardware end, rather than the software end.

meanwhile the beasts and ancients (minus golden cheese) have to squint at the screen old man style wondering what the fuck those youngins are doing.

that leaves us with the topic of the player. i mean, we all know that the player must be a godlike figure to them, but they can't really learn anything about them asides from how they interact with the world. again: anything they aren't already programmed to do would be basically impossible to achieve, so no checking the camera or looking up browser history. (and thank fuck for that too, i do NOT need a bunch of cookies seeing the shit ive searched up.)

they probably do what they can to make things easier for you, to keep you engaged, without scaring you off. a couple more materials and soulstones here and there, cutting down the timers on a couple things, sending you more notifications than usual (or even turning your notifications ON if you previously had them off.) to have more and more of your attention.

most of the cookies probably have mixed feelings about some sort of god having such an effect on their lives, but even then, you don't have as much of an effect as they think. you don't control the story. their fate is left up to the whims of faceless gods who only wish to use their likenesses as a motive to make more profit for themselves. they're entertainment. they're money. and the player is just another consumer, indulging on what is in front of them.

some of them want to be mad, but they can't. it's not like they know why they were designed this way. shadow milk especially hates your guts, but that's only because that means there's someone more powerful than him. he's the one most likely to try to do something, anything, to finally be able to one-up their oh-so wonderful and powerful god, but inadvertently breaks things beyond repair.

i'm not saying that the way self-aware aus are done right now are BAD, but i do think some people are missing their true potential. i hope that people see this and get inspired to write something beautifully horrifying, just for fun.

[susansontag]

I remember when a friend asked during a tense conversation about feminism whether I “supported stay-at-home mothers” (and I assume housewives). I wish I’d known better how to respond then; I did the usual thing of speaking to systemic forces rendering some options for women less viable; I made it all about the language of choice and how it hides processes that limit one’s choices.

it’s a fine answer, it’s not wrong. but ultimately it ignores something very important, and that is that SAH mothers and housewives are adults who are entirely economically dependent on another adult, or other adults, in order to get the things they require to survive (food, shelter, in some cases medical care, etc)—and no, I can’t support this. any society that is set up for a significant amount of that society’s adults to be entirely dependent on the whims of other adults to survive is a sick society.

that the society isn’t set up to be able to handle child-rearing in any other way is also evidence that it is oppressive, that it’s sick. I’m not in denial that raising children itself is a full-time job, but I am aware that there are reasons certain adults are called upon to do it and not others, I am aware that the society doesn’t encourage an organisation in which multiple people can raise a child, or that one person can for a while, another later, etc. it’s also unpaid; or rather, in marxian terms, it’s paid for by the working adult, who gives money to the other or else directly buys them what they require to survive. this is making a child of an adult, who in many cases is perfectly capable of handling money and earning money, and thus controlling how they access things crucial to survive.

so no, I don’t ‘support’ a society that is organised to allow the infantilisation of half its adults, even one that has developed itself to the point where those adults are now legally free to become wage-labourers, so long as the patriarchal mechanisms that ensure at least some of them, or them (women) far more often than any others (men), are the ones giving up their financial independence and access to resources needed to live. this is a dangerous, precarious way to live, and no one should have to lie about that. it’s absolutely not the SAH mothers’, or housewives’ fault; I don’t personally blame them. but it isn’t true that this is a neutral, let alone good, ‘decision’. it’s actually deeply disturbing, and the idea it’s feminists infantilising these women, saying they shouldn’t be allowed the ‘choice’ to give up their entire financial independence, rather than a societal structure that makes women more likely to be forced into making this ‘decision’ to become effective children dependent on another adult to survive, is an inaccurate and antifeminist construction. beyond its obviously being a symptom of liberal-capitalist brainwashing, with all its empty talk of ‘freedom of choice for the individual’ etc.

[primreaperstuff]

Idea: Monster Falls but evil (by which I mean the nature of the curse, not the characters) (longpost)

So I was looking at Monster Falls stuff and thinking, "Hey, these characters keep ending up being cool." Like, it's not as if Dipper would be especially happy to be half deer but a cervitaur is cool, aligns with who Dipper wants to be well enough, and he totally gets abilities he likes out of the deal. Mabel's usually happy to be a mermaid or a unicorn and again, it fits. And no hate. I like Monster Falls because it's fun like that.

But what if instead of fitting the character, it fit their insecurities, traumas, etc., in the worst possible way?

It starts at Dreamscaperers. Gideon is trying to summon Bill, but there's been some sort of edit war in Journal 2 on the incantation (Ford trying to cross it out and Bill putting it back in) that makes it very hard to read. As a result, Gideon says the wrong incantation and, instead of summoning Bill, turns everybody inside the weirdness barrier into monsters. He himself ends up becoming a siren, and nearly chokes to death-- he is extremely lucky that Soos is there and not willing to let a child die on his watch even if that child is a total creep, although he hates that Soos did the rescue and not Mabel (Mabel was honestly debating if she should leave Gideon there, since he tried to kill her brother once and she's fairly certain Gideon would do it again if he had the chance). You would think that being a siren would be fun for Gideon, but it turns out he actually HATES singing and acting. It started as something his dad forced him to do because his dad couldn't cut it as a singer, then became a means of manipulating people post-amulet. He doesn't like being confined to Gravity Falls Lake because it limits how much control he can exert over people, and he hates how meaningless it is when humans agree to things now because he has no way of knowing if they truly want to or not. Forcing compliance from people who don't want to do things seems like something that should annoy Gideon, but it's actually the only part of ordering people around that he enjoys and now he's lost it. His abilities don't work on monsters, and everybody blames him for the monster transformations, so they want nothing to do with him either.

Dipper winds up becoming a tooth fairy. This kid, who struggles so much with his masculinity and not being taken seriously because of his youth, has to learn to live as a sparkly (I'm thinking he literally emits glitter instead of sweat) eater of bones. He's initially really tiny too and has to get a blast from the size-changing gem to get to the size he's used to. Even so, he's never going to grow facial or more chest hair. He has to subsist on bones-- while he can get by on animal bones, he needs to get the trace-mineral-plot-stuff that's only in human bones every now and then. He's in zombie country, not a murderer/butcher, and the teeth need to be in decently good shape to be nutritious enough for him, so that pretty much leaves children's lost teeth as his best bet for food. While he can eat non-bones, he doesn't get any nutrition from them and it's sort of like a lactose intolerance where if he overdoes it he's in for a very bad time in the bathroom. He isn't compelled to leave money or trinkets behind-- it's more of a bribe for kids not to call the cops on him, since he kind of breaks and enters to get those teeth ("Hi, may I feed upon your child's discarded tooth?" isn't exactly something you ask people and get a yes often for, even in monster town). Also, Dipper can't hide being a fairy because his toes are gone. Fairy legs and feet are vestigial. He has to fly to get around with his sparkly pink wings that feel like getting kissed by a butterfly when they hit people. Upside: he gets magic access! Downside: Whenever he uses it his Big Dipper birthmark glows and he sparkles more intensely!

And Mabel, who values her cuteness so much and loves bringing smiles to people's faces, ends up being a gorgon-- the last thing anybody wants to be face-to-face with. She looks a lot like what Bill made her look like in Dreamscaperers when he took her cuteness, but with more grayish skin and rubber boas (the snake species is native to Oregon. Rubber boas are friendly, peaceful noodles but they are dirt-colored and most enjoy chilling in dark places away from non-boas) instead of hair. She has a mental link with the boas and can use them like short-range grappling hooks, but they get extremely stressed out when she hasn't got a hoodie or something like it that they can hide in, and that makes her stressed out. Also rubber boas hibernate, so that makes her extremely tired for a good chunk of the year, and she has to accommodate their dietary needs too as they rely on her for food (Fun fact: Mabel juice is very bad for rubber boas). She has to wear very dark sunglasses to protect other people-- only humans are turned to stone when they look her in the eye (and it is possible to reverse, but a really big PITA), but monsters feel a very sharp and sudden bolt of cold that briefly stuns them (it often scares fellow monsters away). Mabel struggles because she's, like, not a superficial person at all! That's something she really values. But at the same time she hates her gray-green skin and having these weird poop noodles for hair that give her the Torments when she drinks Mabel juice or uncovers her head too much. And people outside of her family who aren't Grenda or Candy (both would most enjoy being monsters, and so of course were out of town when all this stuff went down) definitely treat her differently now that she's not as conventionally adorable as she used to be. It's hurtful.

Stanley, who has always struggled with feeling like a shittier clone of his brother and who is determined to stay out of everybody's business, ends up as the Reflexorcist. The Reflexorcist was a monster introduced in the Book of Bill. It is confined to the mirror realm (good luck getting that portal running now, Stan! Actually, he winds up asking Soos to do it in a moment of desperation. It does delay things by a lot so Ford is able to slay Bill before it's activated.) and compulsively lists off everybody's insecurities when they see themselves in the mirror. I do think it would be interesting to expand the Reflexorcist's powers so it also reads intrusive and embarrassing thoughts as opposed to just talking about your appearance. Stan does not want to hear and definitely does not want to blurt out to Dipper what Dipper thinks about Wendy, his puberty voice, and his lack of chest hair when he brushes his teeth. Stan has to fight every instinct in his body not to do that, but it's a lot easier to resist the urge when it's somebody who has accepted their insecurities and embarrassments. Meaning that Stan feels pressured to get involved and help people, even though he'd truly rather not know and projects an image of not caring about other people at all.

Soos, who is so good hearted and kind to everybody but clumsy to a fault, ends up becoming a demon. If he's not careful, he can induce nightmares in people and monsters, and his powers relate to lowering people and monsters' inhibitions so they're more willing to commit his assigned sin. Fortunately his sin is gluttony, so nothing violent, but unfortunately gluttony is very ill-defined and can include acts of greed like hoarding money-- and he can't share his snacks, as any food he comes into contact with or helps prepare is automatically tainted with sin and will not satiate people or monsters. It makes life hard at the Mystery Shack because his sin-fluence tempts customers to steal, and the only thief allowed in the shack is Stan. He's sort of structured his identity around being Stan's son-ployee, so not being able to work at the Mystery Shack really, really hurts him and he has to find meaning outside of that. It also sucks because Stan (being stuck in the mirror realm) is one of the few folks who can actually interact with him without getting influenced by sin. Plus it's hard for him to help people when his sin-fluence makes them more inclined to be uncooperative and ungrateful. Poor guy is constantly hungry too-- it's not like he's starving or anything, but he never feels quite full and it sucks. At least he doesn't put on weight as a demon, but he doesn't lose weight either.

Wendy, who was so embarrassed by being freakishly tall as a kid and comes from a family of lumberjacks, ends up becoming the same species as Steve. For the sake of the story we'll call him a wood giant. The wood giant is a huge creature that latches its soul onto gigantic trees and more recently machines to give itself the ability to interact with the physical world. It is a solitary thing that generally hides out from lumberjacks, since lumberjacks cutting down their trees hurts them. Unsurprisingly, being a giant makes it very hard for her to interact with her friends, and she hates how she is constantly conspicuous. If she's feeling anxious, she can't exactly play it off like it's nothing because people will see her shaking. And Steve is not a very nice giant-- think of the worst things about Robbie combined with the worst things about Thompson, and you have Steve's personality.

Pacifica, who is haunted by the sins of her family that she is conditioned to participate in and values her beauty and public relations so much, ends up being a krasue. A krasue is a spirit in Southeastern Asian folklore who looks normal during the day but by night detaches the rest of her body from her head, neck, heart, stomach, and intestines and floats around looking for rotten and disgusting things to eat (Lucky for Pacifica but damning for the American food system, ultra-processed food counts as trash so she can live off that-- although she's very ashamed of it). They are largely harmless, but basically nobody likes them because they get bile and slime all over the place, and they are particularly attracted to placentas and clothes. In Thai myths, they are women who lived sinful, fraudulent lives and thus were cursed. Sometimes the spirit and the woman are one and the same, sometimes the spirit and woman are separate but the woman can't survive after being cut off from the spirit, whereas the spirit will just find a new host if cut off from the woman-- I am thinking this might be interesting to toy with as a metaphor for social status and the upper class. She finds it and things her family has done for it grotesque, yet she can't live without it and she knows she'll just be replaced if she leaves. She's been pretending to be a superficial, snobby aristocrat just like her mom and dad for so long that it became part of her true self. Her mom and dad are not doing much better here-- Priscilla has become a Killbilly and Preston has become a werewolf. Her mom's personality and interests are largely intact, but now it causes her severe pain to wear shoes, jewelry, or uncomfortable clothing, she has claws instead of nails, and she is more comfortable communicating in hambone code and "banjo songs" (like whale songs, but for Killbillies) than English. However, Preston rejects her for being a filthy hillbilly and files for divorce immediately. He on the other hand is in deep denial that he has become anything at all. It's not clear if he blacks out in wolf form because of something the form does or because he thinks he is about to black out and that makes it real. He refuses to see the significance in the additional hair he has been growing even during the day and does everything he can to hide it. Although his wolf form looks fearsome, his behavior is more in line with a really intelligent, rowdy dog. While he will put his dirty paws on the couch, shred pillows, counter surf, and hunt deer, he is actually a lot easier and more fun to be around as a wolf than as a human. If he wasn't in denial of being a werewolf, he'd be utterly furious and baffled about people preferring his wolf form.

Old Man McGucket, who worked so hard to forget his traumas, ends up being a shapeshifter. His true form is now the same as the Shifty who traumatized him so long ago, and he doesn't have a good grip on his powers thanks to his scrambled mind so he regularly transforms into whatever comes to mind without realizing or even thinking about it. He is in for a lot of sleepless nights, and so are the people neighboring the Gravity Falls city dump. He does get a better handle on things after confronting his past and the Society of the Blind Eye, at least, but it's still incredibly tough for him to resemble the thing that hurt him so much so long ago and remembering the past has its own toll.

I like the idea of a twist where the Valentinos actually weren't changed at all. Greg was the product of Victor's experimentation with the bodies at his funeral home to produce the perfect son-- basically Frankenstein's monster if Frankenstein actually loved him. Janice is a lich puppetting another deceased woman's body, and she feels so blessed to have found her kind of "people" in the Valentinos. Robbie was somehow born human despite the circumstances, but has been a zombie since he was 14 when an accident at summer camp resulted in him drowning. His mother performed a profane forbidden ritual to defy god and save him, and that was the consequence.

Those are my ideas so far. I have no idea where to take them but figured it was worth sharing. I hope you like them.

[mayullla]

Title: Obsessive Passion

Character(s): Witch's Apprentice (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: You didn't know how much jealousy and hatred he had in his heart and you didn't know how desperate his love was too. He was greedy and was even willing to break you so that you would love him back. Tags/Warnings: male!yandere, fem!reader, apprentice!yandere x witch!reader, both are adults, general yandere themes, brainwash/hypno, drugging, manipulation, dubious consent, 3.4k words

You were a famous witch in the kingdom. Many sought you out for your spells and potions, and the things created by your hand were highly coveted. You were a woman who had reached fame for her talents in magic, knowledge, and powers at a young age. Many sought you out, including the royal family. However, instead of seeking more fame and money, you chose to leave the public eye and live a quiet life away from the capital. Only a few trusted friends and acquaintances knew where you were. You still made many potions and helped whenever the situation required it, but for the most part, you wanted to make time for yourself. You wanted to research and create spells and potions of your interest instead of what was requested and demanded.

With you, you took your apprentice, a man who had talents similar to yours, yet not as fully developed. Many said that he would not be able to achieve what you have due to his lack of mana, but you believed that he would be able to do more, even with that weakness. You knew he was smart, smart enough to figure out how to overcome that hurdle.

But maybe you should have been more careful with him.

You didn't know of the crazed love he had for you, a lust mixed in with unchecked jealousy and hunger. He loved you, he was so madly in love with you that sometimes he felt that it was driving him insane.

You were, in a sense, his savior, someone who took him out of a dark hole and showered him with positive love and attention. You were the one who saw his potential even with his lack of magic when others tossed him aside due to his limits.

It was an innocent crush at first, his heart beating faster when you got close to him as you helped him figure out a new spell that he was trying to create. He was deeply touched when he found out that you created a spell to move your mana to him when he started to run out, effectively stopping him from making progress in a lot of his work and studies.

To him, whenever you poured your energy onto him, he could not help but feel a shiver down his spine. His face flushed into a dark shade of red, perverted thoughts in his mind. All you needed was skin-to-skin contact, holding each other's hand, or you should hold his shoulder. But to him, it was more than that, more than a hug, more than a kiss. It was far more intimate than that when he felt your magic coiling with his, mixing together in his body. It was addicting.

It was difficult for him to hold himself, some days when you saw him panting so heavily after it, he had to make an excuse of some sort.

However, he also had too much anger and too much pride. He resented those who looked down on him, their judgmental eyes ranking his worth in their minds. You were the only one who looked at him in a different light.

You always told him to think of the good for the kingdom, that even when they looked down on him, he could show them what he could do and then their thoughts would change. You were always too kind and so positive.

You weren't naive. If you were, you would have long become a mere pawn of someone malicious, working endless hours for something empty, rather than being free to do whatever you want. But he had always been the more sly one.

That was what he loved about you but also hated. He hated how talented you were compared to him. He hated that you were more powerful than him, that he was in a sense below you. Because you were gifted, you had access to all kinds of magic spell books, even those that belonged to the royal library, while he was not even allowed into the room. He hated your magic because you had so much, unlike him.

He hated your pity.

You did know of his anger, anger towards the world and around him, but you never knew the extent of it. While you also believed that he could do more, you didn't realize what he could already do.

It was just headaches at first when you woke up. Headaches that would never go away no matter what you did. No potion or spell would cast away the pain in your head. Some days it was a numb pain that you could still function throughout the day, but with a few momentary breaks here and there. Sometimes you could go through your day like normal with a very light headache. Sometimes you could do nothing but sit in one place the whole day, unable to think because of the painful throbbing that almost felt like your skull was cracking.

Moments like those always made you mentally note to create another seal for your mind so that you could avoid these sorts of headaches in the future. But by then, it would be too late.

Your apprentice had taken care of most things while you had those serious headaches, giving him work that he could do when you weren't able to do them.

But while doing those tasks, he always took time to take care of you too, handing you tea that was supposed to soothe headaches. While it didn't work for the most part, you appreciated his gesture. Maybe if you were a little more aware and less in pain, you would notice something about the tea that he gave you.

Deep in your sleep, you would never notice how your apprentice would loom over you, having a smile on his lips, cheeks flushed as he played with your mind.

Being famous, you had always been careful of hidden threats and placed many seals in your body to protect yourself. One was on your mind, a seal that you had placed to protect you from any mind magic and dark magic. Much to your apprentice's amusement, he found it very cute that you were that cautious when dark or mind magic had become so rare.

It was taboo and illegal to dabble in such magic after all. Many who were found to be able to do so were mostly killed and burned on torture stakes. It had been years since someone could use such magic. Most magic of that sort was inherited after all, yet when they continued to kill most who could, there was no heir for such magic.

But it wasn't like all dark magic was gone.

He could not help but laugh when he thought of it, how you were so overly cautious of such magic yet took in an apprentice who could use dark magic. This was something you did not know, nor did you know much of. This was what he had over you.

Your seal, while effective if magic was used suddenly to get in your mind, was weak if it was something gradual, slowly chipped away. You would never notice it, not when your headaches started to worsen and worsen the more he chipped your little seal.

It felt like your mind was ripping apart, yet you could not wake up, a sleep potion that paralyzed you, keeping you in deep slumber no matter what he did to you. The torturous pain would be nothing but a nightmare the moment you wake up. He could not help but pity you a little, yet also find a certain thrill to it. A certain satisfaction that he could make you like this.

That he held power over you.

Your body reacted greatly to the broken seal, stiffening as sounds left your mouth, no matter how much he tried to minimize the pain. When it was forcibly broken, there was bound to be some backlash. Yet just as quickly, the sleep potions dragged you back to sleep, unable to react to the shattered seal, unable to see him right above you.

He could not help but laugh, holding it back as he covered his mouth with his hands. His lovely teacher, the teacher who trusted him so much, now at his mercy. He would finally watch you fall from your little stage right under his arms, weak and nothing like the powerful witch you were.

It was a complicated seal that he created just for you, drawn with magic above your head. It was made just for you, like the spell that you had created for him. It would replace the seal that he had broken, and you would be none the wiser. Even if you checked the seal, you would see and feel that same seal that he had broken still there.

One by one, he would change your thoughts, amusing himself in your confusion as he continued to slowly change your mind to his liking, doing things for his pleasure, yet none the wiser.

It took a while, but when you woke up, the headache you had for weeks was suddenly gone.

It was surprising when you realized that you didn't feel like someone was hitting you constantly with a hard, dull hammer every time you even blinked. You were suspicious of the change, but you also felt nothing more than relief. Even when you checked the seals that you placed in your body, nothing was strange.

Yet you just could not help but feel that something was off. That something was not right, but you just could not place a finger on it. You checked the potions and cabinets in the house to see if you misplaced something or if something was stolen, but it wasn't the case. Your apprentice took care of most of the cleaning and potion making while you were resting in bed. Anyone who visited your apprentice had given them the requested items and potions without any problem, but something just felt off.

"Is something the matter?"

You were startled by his voice, jumping a little as if you were caught doing something you shouldn't do. Turning to him, you could not help but frown. "It is nothing, I am just a little confused right now. I can't help but feel like I am missing something."

You honestly replied to your apprentice, wondering and maybe hoping that he had the answer why you were like this. "I am not sure," he answered, having a worried look on his face, wondering if he had made a mistake while you were resting. "Did I make a mistake of some sort?"

Looking at his thinking face, probably trying to calculate expenses or thinking where stuff in where, you shook your head, raising your hand to stop him. "No, it is fine. Thank you for taking care of everything." Seeing that soft smile on his lips, you decided to give your worries a rest.

Yet it always lingered in the back of your mind. As days passed, you started to pay more attention to your apprentice. When you were in the middle of your own research, your mind sometimes thought of him unconsciously, wondering what he was doing and where he was. If he was in the room, you became overly conscious of him. Your eyes could not help but look at him some days, falling into a daze until you snapped out of it with him calling you with a worried look on his face.

It wasn't like you ignored him in the past; you tried to teach him when you were not caught up with your own research. In fact, you were able to give more time to him after you moved to the village, having more time to do whatever you wished. You invested more time into helping him train and learn.

However, this was different.

Your mind just could not think straight sometimes, finding it hard to concentrate when your mind kept thinking of him. He was your apprentice, and while not really far in age, sometimes you thought of him more as an assistant. He was mature and helped you a lot too back then when you had so much work to do. Even now, when he followed you to the countryside, he continued to help you when you needed it. He was reliable.

It wasn't on purpose when you unconsciously started to look over him more often, seeing and checking what he was doing. You took even more time away from your own research to help him learn more about magic and his own research. A quick learner, you always thought, when he picked up a lot of the things you taught him. He was faster… way faster than you when you studied magic around his level.

As more days passed, you started to think that he was better than you, clearly way more talented than you. More often than before, you would compliment him. You complimented him a lot before too, yet you started to do it more and more often. And every compliment seemed to remind you that he was far better than you, that he was better than you.

But it never changed the fact that, unlike you, his magic reserves were smaller than yours. You frowned at the predicament. You were still researching how to help your apprentice's problem, yet you still didn't find a way to fix it. One's own limits were decided the day they were born, and not much could change to make it larger or smaller. The only way you could help your apprentice was to give him your own.

A light touch on his hand or arms, you concentrated on moving your own magic to him. Yet even that took a long time.

Pushing all your other research away, you started trying to find a way to make the transfer quicker and more clean, as there were moments when magic would just leak out and largely go to waste. You were fine with it, to be fair, born with large reserves that it was difficult to use them all in one day anyway, yet you just could not forget your apprentice's face, the jealousy in his eyes when he looked at you.

"Good job. You are doing so well." Compliments continued to leave your lips. Yet as soon as it did, darkness coiled in your stomach as you patted his head. He… he was better than you… Far, far better than you.

You looked down at his sitting form, a smile on his lips, your hand still on his hair as you zoned out deep in thought. "You should really stop patting my head," he told you in a cheery voice, "I am not like some elementary kid who should be rewarded with head pats." You thought for a moment. Looking at him, you could not help but think that it was true, he was far too old for such a thing, but just that you had a habit of doing so.

As soon as you thought that, you tried to take your hand away from his hair, unconsciously wondering if you offended your apprentice or not, yet your hand was stopped by a larger hand. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that!" he said, looking almost surprised when his teacher suddenly started to avoid him. "It is fine to touch my hair, you know… I don't mind," he told you a flush on his face, looking else ever as he tried to hide his cheeks with one hand, "I always know that you like touching my hair, don't you? What I mean to say is that you can touch it whenever... but I am not a kid."

Yes… nothing was wrong… Nothing was wrong at all.

From there, it spiraled again. You were able to function in your daily life, but there were just moments when your memories blanked, and you barely remembered anything. At one point, you thought it was the tea that you were drinking, the one that your apprentice would always make for you.

You were suspicious of the liquid inside your cup, pausing as you stared at it with narrowed eyes. "Is something the matter, teacher?" You looked up at your apprentice, who was looking at you in wonder, an eyebrow raised as he tilted his head. "Do you not like the tea? I made it as you have always liked."

"It is nothing," you said, moving the tea closer to your lips. The smell hit your nose, the same fragrance that you were always familiar with. For a moment, you hesitated, but when you were watched by your student, you chose to take a drink of the tea…

"It is adorable how cautious my teacher is." Your eyes were glazed over as you blankly stared at the floor. Your fingers that were holding the teacup lost their strength, letting the glass fall to the floor and shatter. "Clumsy. Clumsy~" Your apprentice had a mocking tone as he looked at your sitting form. There was no recognition in your eyes, whatever sliver of it was quickly dragged back into the haze. "What would you do without me?"

Moving in front of you, he spelled the glass teacup to rise from the floor and mend itself. When it was placed onto the table, it looked as if it was never broken from the start.

Looking at you, he moved his hands to gently grab your face, forcing you to look at him. "But then again, I always loved my teacher. So much so that it drives me insane sometimes." Your unfocused eyes stared back at him, making him feel chills that he was the one who caused this. That he was the one who made you like this.

He could not help but burst out laughing.

My precious teacher… my precious, precious teacher!" He kept on chanting, in the middle of a quiet forest where there was nothing to hide. His eyes were red with lust and lovesickness.

"My cautious little teacher, slowly you will fall into my arms, and when I finally have you all to myself, I will chain you to me so that you will never be able to leave me. I will make you think of me just as much as I think of you." One by one, he told you all the things he would do to you when you finally could not think for yourself. When your mind breaks and shatters, he will never mend it; instead, he will accept it into his heart.

Then he will create a piece with it that is submissive to him, that yearns for him, that begs for him. One that places him in a high stage that demands others' attention, yet he will give none to them when his eyes are on you, just as he had forced yours to his. You will tell others that he is your heir and that you will be fully retiring.

He will be the one to take care of you, he will take all your magic from your body, greedily taking everything, leaving you unable to even sit up from the bed. He will take care of your body, telling you how well you have done, letting you rest as he fulfills orders for potions and creates spells without limit, looking for you again and again when he runs out.

He will make you sign a contract to become forever his, he will make you sign your name into something that will relinquish everything that belongs to you and give it to him. He will make you give up your talents, your knowledge, your wisdom. He will take everything and gobble it up, as you scream in pain and anguish he will comfort you in his arms and hushed loving words.

You will be his and nobody will be the wiser. Nobody will notice how broken you become as you can do nothing but follow his orders, when you will tell others that he has now inherited your shop and that you will instead become something of a sort of helper. Nobody will know that it is hard for you to make simple potions as he teaches you how to make an easy potion, when you barely even have enough magic to use for yourself as he continues to steal from you.

He will make you clingy, he will make you feel useless and desperate just as he had felt as he looked at you in the past.

You made him insane, and he will show you what it was like as you drowned in his love.

[mweothe11e]

PAC: What do you need to learn to love about yourself?

Never forget to only take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This is a general PAC reading, so if the first pile you chose doesn't resonate with you, then maybe you're meant to read another pile.

(this is for entertainment purposes only)

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Pile 1: Ace of Swords, 4 of Coins, 9 of Cups

You may feel like an outcast, Pile 1. You don’t think like other people. You might have also been scrutinized for being able to “work smart”, being told, “Why do we have to do it a new way when the old way still works?”. My dear Pile 1, you must learn to love your inner visionary. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to improve the current system of things. You sought to evolve and you hope by sharing your ideas, others can grow and move forward with you. You’re also able to see through the mess and create clarity for yourself. Embrace the parts of you that can naturally find ways of life more efficiently and cost-effectively.

Another great thing about you that deserves a whole lot of love is your practical approach towards financial literacy. Others might have called you stingy but they didn’t know you might have grown up in a place of lack. So you had promised yourself to work smart so that you won’t have to worry about how you’re going to afford to put food on the table, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back.

There’s nothing to be ashamed about knowing how to make money work for you. You have this natural ability to be wise and practical about your resources. Be proud that you know how to also be secure internally as well. Establishing healthy boundaries is a skill we all need yet not everyone learns. People call you guarded, I say you know that not everyone deserves to have access to you.

Finally, never shame yourself for being able to achieve your goals and dreams in life, pile 1. You should allow yourself to enjoy the fruits of your labor unapologetically. This is a rather hard pill to swallow for those with survivor’s guilt. Being able to become the person you’ve always wanted to be means those people you loved who didn’t evolve with you might get left behind. This makes it difficult for you to allow yourself to savor your success when you have loved ones who haven’t achieved their dreams yet.

As much as you want to be happy for them, you can’t make them achieve their success for them. They chose their way of life as you did yours. If your success bothers them, it’s not your responsibility to coddle and make yourself small for their comfort. So, if you feel you deserve to go on a solo vacation for your hard work, then go for it. If you want to move into your own apartment, go right ahead.

You have every right to use your money to whoever you see fit. You’ve worked hard to earn that, so treat yourself right with the fruits of your labor. Don’t apologize for that promotion. Never apologize for your happiness. You just need to remember one thing: you can’t control how others react to your success.

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Pile 2: Moon, 9 of Swords, 4 of Swords

First of all pile 2, one thing you should learn to love about yourself is your intuition and your ability to easily see through the BS. Yup, I said it loud and clear. You see through the BS in people. They can’t lie to you, even to save their lives. Your intuition is a gift that helps you in any way that can help lead you into your highest good. Though it seems that pile 2 feels bad that you see through the superficial two-faced niceties among your peers. You might have experienced moments where you muttered under your breath, “I hope I’m wrong” only to be proven right yet again. Don’t you think it’s high time you should stop lying to yourself and embrace this amazing gift?

Another thing you should learn to love about yourself is knowing your limits and being able to give yourself the space to honor and validate your fears and anxiety. Don’t beat yourself up for being aware of what you can or cannot do because knowing your limitations means you can utilize whatever skills you have at hand that are to your advantage.

Also, not everyone is resilient enough to be able to hold space for their fears, anxiety, and insecurities without letting the aforementioned swallow them whole. You know yourself well enough that you need to be able to safely allow your feelings to be seen and validated for your and everyone’s good. You know what it’s like to be at the bottom, so you know that with your acquired knowledge backed by personal experience, you can help someone else ease through their own fears and anxiety.

Finally Pile 2, you need to stop feeling guilty about prioritizing your self-care and rest. You know what your body requires to be able to do your tasks every day. There’s nothing wrong with being able to listen to what your body needs intuitively. When you know you’re about to rest, you know yourself well enough that you need to pause, reassess, and re-strategize your approach moving forward.

You should also be proud of knowing how to protect your peace. Some people who call you selfish for putting yourself, down don’t like the fact that they can’t manipulate and abuse you to their advantage. The issue is with them, never with you. Knowing how to protect and defend yourself is something you should be proud of. You know your worth and you also know what you won’t tolerate. So, you shouldn’t fault and cave into to toxic societal norm of conforming to unrealistic and unethical double standards. Embrace your self-worth. Never feel bad about putting yourself first.

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Pile 3: 5 of Swords, 10 of Coins, Justice

Hi Pile 3, what you need to learn to love about yourself is your conflict resolution skills. This pile feels like my eloquent speakers pile. Could also be my bookworm pile. With an extensive vocabulary and unfortunately growing up in a hostile environment, for the sake of your survival, you grew up having no choice but to be good at conflict resolution. I know it’s an odd thing to love about yourself but another great thing that you should learn to love about yourself is you know when to stand firm and fight, if necessary.

Like, if diplomacy is useless, you’re ready to take the offensive approach. But this has always been your last resort. Knowing what it’s like to grow up in a chaotic environment if you had a choice, you would avoid recreating that childhood chaos in your current adult life. You’d exhaust all diplomatic approaches before you’re forced to take the offensive stance. That’s one of the many things about you that deserves to be loved and appreciated.

What you need to learn to love about yourself is your legacy/roots/ancestry, pile 3. This could also be my POC / mixed race / immigrant pile. It sort of makes sense why you’re a bit iffy about your lineage, especially if you’re mixed race because you might have been bullied when you were younger. So, it’s a bit tricky to love a part of you that your immediate environment teased/bullied/ostracized you for.

You must have dealt with a whole plethora of traumatic stories because you don’t look like most people around you. There’s nothing wrong with being different. There’s nothing wrong with being an immigrant. There’s nothing wrong about being of mixed race. You are beautiful/handsome/lovable just the way you are. The issues is never with you so never shame yourself for your lineage. You deserve love, respect, and happiness for simply existing.

Finally, don’t feel bad about being honest and holding others accountable. There’s nothing to be ashamed of when you are upholding your integrity. You should learn to love the parts of yourself that cannot stand injustice. You have this natural instinct to defend the powerless and speak for the silenced. Not everyone is brave enough to fight for their beliefs and the rights of others. Your need for truth is quite remarkable. So never feel bad about not being a good liar. It just means you don’t see the point of lying to someone.

In this age where manipulation and mental games are being praised as “owning your power”, people, like you pile 3, are rarer than black opals in a Pacific ocean full of diamonds. So never let anyone bully you into conforming to this mental gymnastics just to be accepted/in a relationship. People who are meant to be in your life don’t have to be lied to in order for them to want to be with you. You can only keep someone that wants to be kept.

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Pile 4: 10 of Cups, Page of Wands, King of Cups

From what I can pick up for you pile 4 is that you should be proud that you came from a loving home. I know, it kind of sounds like too much of a flex. To have been able to grow up in a loving environment while your peers grew up in chaotic and traumatic environments tends to leave a heavy guilt in your heart. A part of you feels bad that you can’t relate to having a crappy childhood because your parents actually did the work and healed together so that you can have a happy childhood.

So… whenever your friends or peers open up about how they feel unloved and unappreciated at home then they ask you about your childhood, you must have lied to avoid putting salt in their wounds. I understand the need for camaraderie but you shouldn’t feel bad about having come from a loving family. If your friends are okay with this suggestion, why not invite them over? Ask your family if they can be more understanding and considerate towards your friends. To be an example that not all adults are bad.

Another interpretation of this card is to be proud of your happiness. Don’t feel bad that you actually have a loving partner while your friends are still single. Don’t be ashamed of being seen with your significant other. It’s not like you’re intentionally making your single friends jealous whenever you answer their questions about your love life.

You should be unapologetically proud of your happiness, especially when you know you did nothing wrong. Why apologize for your happiness when everyone wants to be happy, in some shape or form? Also, consider this as a word of caution, if someone around you isn’t happy for your happiness, best to cut ties with them. It’s not wise to be around someone who doesn’t know how to be happy for the happiness of others. This doesn’t just involve relationships, this can also be applied to promotions, achievements, and awards.

Something about yourself that deserves more love pile 3 is your cheerful disposition and adventurous spirit. It’s not shameful to be able to see the silver lining. It’s not bad to be able to see the good in people. With how our world is in constant chaos and peril, we need people like you who haven’t lost hope for a better and brighter future.

So never feel bad about being perceived as naïve when you’re simply not projecting your bad experiences to the new people you meet in your life. What’s so bad about still being able to be excited about the glimmers in life? There’s nothing to feel bad about being able to cater and nurture your inner child. So never let the world shame you for never giving up hope.

Finally Pile 4, you should learn to love your natural inclination for diplomacy. Knowing when to listen to your heart or when to lead with your head is such a life-changing and valuable ability that majority of us are constantly learning to master day by day. You might have been told that you’re so mature and wiser than your age, which might have been internalized as this insatiable need to always be reliable and dependable. At times, it might feel like such a burden at times; to always be the person everyone relies on.

So… since you are aware of the weight of the responsibility of being the reliable person for everyone, you should use your ability of discernment to decide a schedule on when will you entertain request for counsel for those who need you. You know what your needs are, and you also know that you need to be able to live a balanced life to be of service to others. So, learn to be okay with putting yourself first so that you can help others better in a later date.

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Please do let me know how you resonate with your pile in the comment section below.

Thank you so much for looking through my PAC.

Tagging my personal account: @e11e27 as a reminder.

[nochukoo97]

new beginnings

pairing: ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc

warnings/summary: oc takes up a new job as a cashier, and she gets a CAT, jk is a little grumpy but he gets better, he’s also annoying by calling oc’s cat a cottonbud LOL, he calls her sweetheart, and oc has a little crushy crush on this hot neighbour, they bump into each other three times, basically they’re destined to meet each other even when they barely know each other

word count: 2.4k+ / TAGLIST OPEN

series masterlist!

“Goddamn, how many pieces of clothing do you own?” Yeji grunts as she helps to pull along two of your suitcases into her apartment’s lift.

“It’s all costumes for my competitions, my coach keeps insisting to keep them in case we need it in the future,” You internally sigh at the thought of your coach, she wasn’t bad by all means, but she constantly pushed you to your limits with countless competitions she enrolled you in. But after all, you didn’t come to Seoul and join the national team expecting a smooth and comfortable journey.

“Anyways, you’ve gotta tap the card right here,” She explains the whole crazy security system here, then passes you the access card to the apartment. One week ago you would’ve probably not expected to be in this situation, now moving in with your best friend, as well as her boyfriend who has begun to sleepover at her place more often than necessary. But right now if it meant that less money would fall out of your bank account, putting up with whatever third-wheeling you were about to go through would make it all worth it.

You pull your other two suitcases into the lift, noticing a man shuffling into the corner to make space for the two of you and your four huge suitcases. The lift door closes and there’s this deafening silence that fills the lift, with the way Yeji widens her eyes at you but says nothing, you assume it might be about the latter standing in the corner of the lift.

“What kind of signals were you trying to send me in there?” You whine when the lift door finally closes, as Yeji abandons the now-rolling-away suitcases to grab onto your hands.

“It’s rolling!” You exclaim, as she jumps slightly, your voice raising a little louder than usual in panic.

“Sorry-sorry, anyways, he’s the guy I told you about! Maybe I can set you up with him,” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, giving you the same taunting look she did when she had proposed moving into her apartment.

“No! I don’t even know that man, anyways with those looks he might already be taken,” You brush your best friend off, anyways, you didn’t want a relationship right? When Yeji had told you about the hot guy in her apartment, you had immediately brushed the idea of being set up off, since that’s exactly how you met your ex, and it definitely did not end on a good note.

“Oh, so you’re attracted to him?” She jogs in front of you to look you in the eye, seemingly much more excited at her sudden discovery than you.

“What? No I didn’t say that? I just- whatever! Open the door!”

She only smirks at your stuttering, but complies as she opens the front door to her unit, and you’re greeted with a familiar sight that you now need to get used to calling home.

-

People had always praised you for being dainty and sweet, always dressed up in elegant costumes during your competitions, your moves on ice had always charmed the audience with how smooth you twirled and jumped.

You would like to say that they might change their minds when they spot you in this current situation: no makeup on, eyebags peeking through, in a neon green vest as you stare at the rows of cigarettes behind the cashier.

The younger you would have never expected to end up working part time in this convenience store, but here you are.

But somehow it didn’t seem too bad, you were the only worker here, besides a sweet lady who comes and sweeps the floor every evening, and the best part: you got to control the music.

To be honest, you may have been enjoying yourself a little too much with the way you hum to the music as you drink the complimentary-one-a-day coffee your manager had given you.

“One pack of menthol,” Your sudden peace is abruptly disrupted as you whip your head around, jumping slightly as you hear the voice sound from behind you.

Oh. It’s the same man from the lift, this time he’s wearing another suit in a different colour, but this time he seems much more drained than before.

“I said-” He repeats himself again, noticing your spaced out look as you stare straight at him.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry sorry, it’s been a long day,” You quickly gather yourself, mentally cursing yourself for checking out the man in front of you so shamelessly, but he only scoffs at your little mistake.

He’s either a total dickhead or is just having a bad day. Hopefully its the latter since as much as you hate to admit it, maybe he perhaps has caught your attention.

But the same man quickly walks out of the store the moment you return his black credit card, as you’re now once alone in the store, gathering your things to finally end your shift.

-

It’s only a few days later where you meet your next crisis, or rather a blessing in disguise.

An innocent trip to the local fair turned into you signing adoption papers for this fluffy little furball that you absolutely could not leave. To be fair, you were mainly there to find some cute accessories to buy, but the newly put up adoption booth had caught your eye.

The moment your eyes had met the beady little eyes of the small white cat, you couldn’t say no. Even if it meant paying thrice your income from working at the convenience store, anything would be worth this cat.

But then again, your heart sank further once the lady at the counter had told you the animals put up were free to adopt, or else they would be euthanised the following day. It almost made you attempt to calculate just how much it would cost to take care of all the animals here, but in the end you had settled to just bring the cat home.

“Yeji, hypothetically how mad would you be on a scale of 1 to 10 if I brought a cat home?” You press your phone in between your shoulder and cheek as you wrap the little cat in its blanket, snuggling the animal close to your chest in hopes to provide it more warmth.

“You’re kidding me right now,” You hear her sigh at the other end, “What makes you think we can raise a cat? Let alone you working night shifts and being out at training in the day?”

She wasn’t wrong, but you’re pretty sure it’ll all be okay.

“Trust me, the lady managing the adoption booth told me cats are way more independent, we can get her an automatic feeder and I’ll need to get a litter box too, and maybe some toys and treats on the side too…”

She sighs again, “And that’ll cost a gajillion dollars, where are you going to get that from?”

“I’ll find a way, trust me,”

-

Truth to be told, the package deal you had got for litter and food was a little more pricey than you had anticipated, but you were confident that it would save you money in the future anyways.

Cloud, the newly named cat, of which you spent many hours deciding on a name for her, was easier to handle than expected, she often played with the little gadget toy Yeji had got her, and learnt how to use her litterbox in a day, which made you come to a conclusion that you had raised a genius.

But yet your oh-so-smart furkid may also be a little too intelligent, the absence of a certain cat in the apartment has now caused your anxiety and hysteria.

“How did she manage to escape with us not noticing again! The last time I saw her crawl through your legs but this time I swear she disappeared into thin air!” You’re on the verge of tears as you tell Yeji, who only rubs her palm up and down your back as a offering of comfort.

“But you’ve got her tagged up, your number and her name is attached to her collar, I’m sure anyone who finds her will definitely call you immediately,” She tells you, watching as you now begin to hiccup, tears forming and rolling down your cheeks.

“What if she got run down by a car? Or some psychopath who hates cats found her? Oh my poor baby, she must be missing me already,” There’s a million different scenarios that play through your head, all leading to Cloud ending up in nowhere else but cat heaven.

“She’ll be fine, calm down, my friend’s cat often runs out of the house but the cat always returns every few days, some of them prefer to go out and explore, perhaps Cloud is the same,”

You can only sigh and hope for the best.

-

unknown number: hey

unknown number: did you lose a cat?

You gasp to yourself when your eyes scan the new text that had appeared on your screen, someone had found her.

you: YES

you: DON’T DO ANYTHING TO HER PLEASE

you: i promise ill pay anything for you not to do anything

Your heart beats frantically in your chest watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again. There was no way a psychopath had truly found Cloud and already decided to perform whatever possible traumatic procedure on her right?

unknown number: why would i do anything to it??

unknown number: in fact your cat is the one who had run into my apartment and marked her territory all over.

Oh. That was the last thing you had expected.

you: do you have a litter box in your house?

The three dots taunt you as they appear once and pause for a good minute, as if whoever is on the other side is pondering hard to answer your simple question.

unknown number: what kind of question is that??

unknown number: i dont own a cat, why tf would i own a litter box??

You frown at the reply, you were grateful he didn’t do anything to Cloud, but a simple no would be great.

you: just send me your address!!

you: i need to see if she’s alright, she probably is crying for me right now

unknown number: it’s sleeping peacefully under my bed right now, i dont think its upset at all.

unknown number: here’s the address: xxx

You sigh in relief when you realise it’s the unit above your apartment, which meant she couldn’t have gone too far.

you: first of all, you never know if she’s crying in her heart

you: second of all, stop calling Cloud an it!!! she has a name and she is a girl

you: third of all, im coming upstairs im in the same apartment complex

You roll your eyes when a reply comes in faster than it did before, mostly because it’s an insult to your cat:

unknown number: who names a cat cloud?? she looks more like a cotton bud, hurry and get her.

-

When you reach the floor above you, you’re met with a black door, no doorbell in sight. So you simply knock, sure that it had been the person that found Cloud since it was the only unit on the floor.

What you didn’t expect is to be met with the same man you saw whilst working at the convenience store. Instead he’s in a loose shirt and some shorts, hair not styled as a few pieces of bangs fall over his eyes. His presence daunts you a little, considering how darkly lit his place was, and how he towered over you.

“Oh? So we meet again,” He seems to recognise you as he steps aside, watching as you take off your bedroom slippers, which you now curse at yourself for wearing since it was pink and fluffy.

You think you hear a little laugh when he spots your slippers but you choose to believe he didn’t anyways.

“Where is my baby?” You step in now, taking in the view of his place. It’s a little larger than Yeji’s apartment, and the interior seems… lacking some colour. It’s mostly black and grey furniture, with hints of marble and some white chairs here and there, but it’s a total opposite of your apartment.

“Don’t think she cares enough to be your baby, but your baby pissed all over my balenciaga shoes and my dumbbells,” He deadpans, nodding his head to show you the dark pair of shoes that now hang at the window, you assume to dry them out.

“Your what shoes?!” You almost turn pale at the mention of the designer brand, there’s no way he might ask you to get him a new pair right?

“Forget about that, go and get Cottonbud out of my room,” He walks into the hallway, looking back once to check if you follow him.

“What did you just call her?!” You yell at him from behind as he enters a room, a bed coming into sight and a much too familiar tail that sticks out from under the bed.

“Cloud!” You’re far too busy attempting to reunite with your cat to bother hearing another reply from the man, but the moment you come closer to the swaying tail, Cloud dashes away from your grasp and hides at the very deep end from under the bed.

“Looks like someone isn’t too keen on seeing you,”

You whip around, a frown on your face as you are met with the man who smirks, almost taunting you.

“Shut up,”

“What’re you gonna do now then? The cat’s gone further under the bed, I can’t reach there either,” He has his hands on his hips, standing and waiting for your reply.

His gaze and posture makes you feel small, and not having a single clue what to do fuels this feeling in you. And perhaps add some butterflies in too and it’ll perfectly describe how you are feeling.

“I- I don’t know! I’ve never had to deal with this situation before!” You’re pacing up and down, glancing at the bed, hoping Cloud would magically pop out and leap into your arms so you can run home away from this man.

“Well I’ve got all day sweetheart, you can slowly find a way to get Cottonbud out of my house,”

“Her name is not Cottonbud!”

“Whatever,”

TAGLIST: @skzthinker @cherrysainttt @vminkookgf @lilaissa @jjeonjjk7 @armystay89 @canyon-lwt @junecat18

[booksinmythorax]

So, in the midst of... you know, everything, life at the library goes on and I wanted to talk about the difference between Libby and Hoopla.

For those not in the know, Libby and Hoopla are both apps/software that libraries can use to offer digital items to our patrons. Libby does ebooks (including graphic novels) and audiobooks.

Hoopla does ebooks, audiobooks, digital comics (weekly issues, not just trades or graphic novels), movies, TV shows, and music.

A little while back, my library system had to cut down on the number of Hoopla items patrons can check out per month. This caused a little bit of a stir - people like Hoopla! And they should! It's really cool! But the reason we had to cut back there and not with Libby was because the ways we pay for Libby and Hoopla are different.

Libby uses a pay-per-license model. This means that when we buy an ebook or audiobook on Libby, it's like we're buying one copy of a physical item. Except, because publishers are vultures, it's often much more expensive than buying one copy of the physical book - unless it's an audiobook, in which case buying the CDs might very well be more expensive than buying the digital license on Libby. That's why you might have to wait on a list for a Libby title that's really popular: we only have licenses for so many "copies". These licenses can be in perpetuity (i.e. you pay once and you can use that copy forever) or, more commonly, for a limited length of time like a year. Once that time is up, we decide whether to pay for the license for each copy again.

Hoopla uses a pay-per-circulation model. There's no waiting: once you, the patron, decide you'd like to check something out, you can do so immediately and we pay Hoopla a smaller amount of money to essentially "rent" the license from them. Cool, right?

Except that the pay-per-circ model adds up. If we have access to a brand new or popular title on Libby and Hoopla, and the Libby copy has a long waiting list, patrons might hop over to Hoopla to check it out immediately. If enough people do this, we might end up paying more overall for the Hoopla item on a per-circulation basis than we did for the license on the Libby item. That's why libraries typically limit the number of Hoopla checkouts patrons can use per month: because otherwise, we can't predict the amount we'll be paying Hoopla in the same way we can predict the amount we'll pay Libby.

Let me be clear: If a library offers a digital service and it would be helpful to you, please use it. Don't deny yourself a service you need or would enjoy in some misguided attempt to save your library some cash. We want to offer digital services, not least because ebooks and audiobooks have accessibility features that print books often don't. If your library has Libby and Hoopla and you get utility out of both, use both!

That said, if you're upset with the lower number of checkouts on Hoopla or the limited number of titles or copies available to you on Libby, you know who you should talk to? Your elected officials. Local, state, and federal. Because those folks are the ones who decide how much money we get, and what we can spend it on.

Don't go to them angry, either, because then we'll get scolded for not using the funds they "gave" us appropriately. (If you're a frequent library user, you might be shocked at how anti-library many local government officials already are.) Write your officials an email, call them, or show up at a board meeting and say you like the services the library offers, but you'd love it if we had enough money to buy more books on Libby or offer more checkouts on Hoopla. Tell them directly that this is how you would like your tax dollars to be spent.

If anybody has questions about how Hoopla or Libby work, I'm happy to answer them! Just wanted to make sure we had a baseline understanding.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Daddy Knows Best

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @oddlyspecifickit. Taking over the PLF made Dabi think that he was finally going to have the resources and ability to clear the path to his father and get the revenge he’s been seeking out for nearly a decade. But when he decides to move before the League feels they’re ready, Shigaraki steps in and Dabi’s world falls apart as the other villain forces him to become something entirely new. 

Contents: RAPE/NON-CON, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Daddy Kink, Forced Feminization, Age Play, Caregiver/Little, Non-Consensual Spanking, Maintinence Spanking, Cross-Dressing, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chastity Cage, Orgasm Denial, Penis Shrinking, Praise Kink, Degradation, Humiliation, Mindbreak, Waterboarding, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Pornography, Plushophilia, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Erectile Dysfunction, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Creampie, Face Fucking, Rimming, Overstimulation, Suicidal Thoughts. 

Word Count:  26,110

Moving to the PLF is good. It gives them so many resources that Dabi is a little put-off about it at first. When Skeptic gives them all company credit cards he grills the guy for no less than an hour trying to find any limit for all of the funds and resources that they're just being handed and can't believe it when he doesn't find any of those invisible limits he's expecting. He can buy food, medicine, new clothes, a new phone, literally anything he wants. And he gets to live in the villa, with a room of his own that has a nice big bed, access to a shower, laundry, a kitchen, a fully stocked fridge, electricity-- Dabi has always had to take what he can get, never looking at any necessity as something basic or unimpressive because he has gone days, weeks, months without having access to these kinds of things. He rolled with it when they ended up homeless after Kamino because he's been homeless for half of his life. But what the PLF offers them now is not just necessities, it's luxury. It's frivolousness that Dabi hasn't known since he was very young and he and his siblings wanted for nothing but the attention of stable, loving parents, not that they ever got that. Being able to get a new toy whenever they wanted had been a suitable replacement until Dabi had gone wrong. 

But having the funds to be frivolous has only made Dabi more focused on his goals. He wasn't seriously injured after the Deika fight, so he throws himself into the restructuring like nothing in the world can stop him. He makes sure that things are taken care of as Shigaraki pretty much ghosts them after the announcement so that he can get his strength back and do whatever weird treatments he's trying to unlock the miracle quirk that AFO apparently gave him. Dabi also throws Hawks to the curb faster than he was thrown away the second Shoto displayed his quirk. That dumb bird that was an even worse spy isn't worth Dabi's time in the first place and now that he has access to dozens of heroes on the HPSC's payroll that have been loyal to this insurgency since before Hawks debuted, he doesn't want to risk fucking any of that up by letting the number two catch wind of all of this. When he's not focusing on making sure the PLF stays running just how he needs it to, Dabi is marveling at the things that money and such a large, dedicated following can pull off. Sure, AFO had a resource in UA which is part of the reason they were able to pull off the summer camp job. But he took knowledge of that spy with him to Tartarus, and Shigaraki doesn't seem interested in trying to figure out who that was. So instead he focuses on tapping into the network of resources that the PLF already has. 

Getting an entire file on all three of his siblings, but especially all of Shoto's grades, quirk assessments, and other school records after he asks for it feels more like magic than quirks did to his child mind that hadn't quite put together the difference between wizards with staffs and his dad being able to make fire float on his face. Dabi spends three days pouring over the files before he also requests any records that they can get about the Endeavor agency and anything that he can get about Rei's treatments when it becomes clear that his siblings have been visiting her more over the past six months. If his family is trying to put itself back together, then Dabi is going to make that hurt twice as badly for them. Those are the thoughts he takes with him as he starts to intensify his training, wanting to make sure that he learns the ultimate moves that Shoto has been trying to develop so that he can have them in his arsenal when he finally gets to face off against their father's perfect creation. 

He works himself hard while the rest of the League is enjoying the luxuries and support systems they have now as they heal and he doesn't care. They can do whatever they want as long as they don't get in his way. He just needs to use them to reach his finish line afterall. 

///

Dabi has all of his devices set up to ping him to any news about Endeavor or the Torodokis and it's a cold night in December when his phone starts to screech at him as he's making himself dinner. Toga is giving him puppy eyes from the other side of the island but he doesn't give a shit. She can make her own damn food if she's hungry. He isn't expecting to take out his phone and have to slam down on every wall he's built up throughout the years to keep his expression flat and disinterested as his blood roars in his ears as he sees that Natsuo was attacked by some villain that his dad had put away a long time ago. That Endeavor had frozen in the street and his brother and the other UA brats including Bakugo had to step in and keep Natsuo from getting killed. His rage is beyond white-hot and he is fairly certain that he could burn a hole through the sun as he abandons his dinner and storms from the kitchen. He thinks that he hears Toga call after him, but he can't focus on the sound of her voice. 

He'd finished his work and training for the day, so he had been in more casual clothes, but as soon as he gets back to his room, he's pulling his villain gear back on, the support cuffs immediately registering his high temperature and hissing out a frigid air to try and help him regain some semblance of control. But it doesn't help. His father is pathetic. First he broke down when Hood had shown up, getting so beaten down that the nomu would have absolutely killed him if Dabi had stepped in to distract Hawks the way that he'd been considering before he realized that Endeavor was going to die if he didn't have the assistance. And now? Now? Breaking down in the fucking street asking Natsuo for forgiveness after letting some two-bit villain that a bunch of students could handle without his help? No. The Endeavor in his mind was a giant. He was wrath and fury, and the glimmering hope of the future that Toya wanted for himself. He was not supposed to be the pathetic mess that his father is proving he is now. No. He was supposed to be worth the years of suffering and all of the trouble Dabi has put into trying to get stronger. He wasn't supposed to be pathetic. And now that Dabi keeps finding evidence of that, he can't stop himself from wanting to march right back to his family home. Shoto will be there tonight, maybe Natsuo stayed there instead of going back to his dorm, Fuyumi lives there. He can barge his way right in, burn that beacon of memories to the ground, and show his father just how helpless he is to stop it now that he's let that cruel flame that used to guide him waver. He can make him regret ever trying to soften up because it only made him weaker after all of the suffering that he caused to be strong. He is going to show him every inch of his failures so that when it's time for his father to die, he enters the battlefield against him just as much of a monster as he is painted in his memories--

Dabi has had a lot of strange and awful things happen to him in his life, but he hasn't ever been chloroformed as the damp cloth lands over his nose and mouth and sends his vision hazy before he can even think of lighting a spark across his skin. 

///

His head is pounding when he wakes up and Dabi is... cold. He's cold and shivering even though he's laying on a bed with a blanket pulled up over his body. He makes his eyes open, the light in the room intentionally dimmed. He's in a bedroom. One a little larger than the one that he was given, but based just on the style of it and the shape, he knows that he's still in the PLF, which at least makes him a little less concerned and lets him be more pissed off as he sits up in the big bed and finds that, as he was laying on his side, someone has used quirk suppression cuffs to tie him to the bed. He bares his teeth in a snarl and tries to give them a hard tug. They don't come loose and suppression cuffs are thicker than normal handcuffs, making it much, much harder to just slip them by dislocating a thumb. Fine. The headboard is wood. If he has enough slack to turn and get his feet to the post that it's nailed into, Dabi doesn't doubt that he'll be able to land a few good, hard kicks against the surface and separate the joints and wood, letting him slip out of this and get out of this room so he can find a key and then burn the asshole who did this to him alive. 

He has barely started to push the blankets off of him before he hears movement from the other side of the room. With only the dimmed lamp on the bedside to give him anything to see by, he is tensely squinting through the dark as he tries to locate that source of movement. He doesn't have to wait long though, because after just a second, Shigaraki is stepping into view. He is only wearing a pair of loose, dark sweatpants and the glove that holds his prosthetic fingers in place, his long hair wild around his shoulders and a flat, almost disinterested look on him as Dabi snarls. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, hand job?" He gives the chains a hard tug that rattles the frame and bruises his skin, but he does it anyway. "Let me out of this!" 

"No." Shigaraki has had a confidence about him ever since they took this place over that has gotten everyone to just fall at his feet. Even Dabi had been impressed by the changes between this and the entitled gamer asshole that he'd met when they first started working together. But that doesn't mean that he's going to happily accept anything that he does now without question like some of the others, especially if that extends to Shigaraki knocking him out and tying him to a bed! 

"Are you fucking kidding me? Let me out now or when I break out myself, I'm gonna finish what we started in Kamino!" 

"No you aren't." Shigaraki's voice is harder then and he steps up to the foot of the bed, making sure to stay far enough away that Dabi can't reach him to kick. "Toya," 

He hasn't heard his own name said out loud in almost a decade and hearing it come from Shigaraki's mouth fills him with dread. He knew that Ujiko recognized him. They'd talked about it before he had taken Hood for the test run. But he didn't think that the doctor was going to give that information up to Shigaraki. He didn't think that the doctor would want to risk giving up the game to Duster, letting him piece together that AFO had a whole hospital full of potential replacements for him if Shigaraki hadn't proven to be an acceptable successor for the supervillain. He hates the idea of having his name used against him. That is a weapon for him to wield against his father, his family, all of hero society itself. He is not about to let Tomura Shigaraki of all people blunt that blade. 

"Yeah? And what does it fucking matter to you, Duster? I'm still the only one here actually doing a damn thing to bring down the entire system." 

"You aren't bringing down the whole system." Shigaraki tells him flatly. "You are racing towards your own selfish desires instead of focusing on fighting for our cause." 

"My cause," Dabi says, even though he knows it does nothing to prove the other man wrong, "Is making sure that I get to see Endeavor's face crumble with grief as I lay all of his sins bare for the world to see and send him to hell knowing that his legacy is just as much ash as his body." 

Shigaraki shakes his head slightly and sits at the foot of the bed, still out of kicking distance, though it occurs to Dabi then... how much danger he's in if he pisses off the other man too badly. Shigaraki is already dangerous if he lets him get in close, but now? With his quirk sealed away? He could kill or cripple him in just a few seconds and steal away any chance at the glorious revenge that Dabi is craving so badly. "You can have that, Dabi." He says, his tone placating and light in a way that makes his skin start to itch as if he's been threatened. "But that isn't something you can go rushing to claim. You have to be good and let things develop in their own time. I'm not going to let you just rush in and expose the PLF or burn yourself out when I need you here for so much more of this war." He reaches for him and Dabi can't help flinching, but it's his gloved hand that curls over his ankle through the blankets. "I thought that leaving you alone to monitor yourself would be alright. You've always been very good at setting goals and controlling the flow of energy towards the other goals that the League has had before. I didn't realize that you just couldn't handle doing that when it comes to the things that you want so badly, firefly." he gives a soft sigh. "And I didn't know that you would be so obsessed with your family that I would have to step in to teach you how to behave yourself. But I'm glad. I was starting to worry that with everything else, I wouldn't find the time to make this a priority." The smile that stretches across his face makes Dabis insides go even more frigid than they already felt without access to his quirk. 

"I know what I'm doing, Duster. Let me go." 

"No. I've seen all of the things that you've asked for from our people, I see the way that you go into the training area and absolutely devote yourself to following in your father's footsteps. You can train, you can build up your evidence and get as many little DNA tests run as you want to help you prove your claims when I  decide that it's time for you to put this weapon to good use. But you are not going to only be that. You are not your father's property anymore. He gave you up when you burned alone on a mountain and you chose to belong to me when you came to the bar to join the League. He doesn't get to own your mind here anymore, baby girl." 

Dabi didn't think there was any way that Shigaraki could be any more off-putting than he already was, but those words make his skin crawl so badly that he's genuinely surprised that it doesn't pull itself free of his staples and slip off of his body. "Absolutely fucked, boss." He snaps, his face heating slightly. "Not a girl, and no one owns me."  

He doesn't like the way that Shigaraki's eyes go so flat as that smile stays placidly painted across his lips. There haven't been many villains he's interacted with in his life that he would compare to a shark, but something about what he sees in his expression now makes Dabi scared that he's somehow managed to chum the water. "You're just going to make your punishments worse while you're getting trained if you keep up that kind of backtalk." Dabi's body is coiled so tightly with tension that he might shatter as Shigaraki slowly and deliberately stands from the edge of the bed and moves up along the side of it so he is standing much closer to Dabi's head. "You are going to have some special new rules to follow while you're here, firefly." He speaks as he reaches into the nightstand and takes out the key to the cuffs that makes Dabi's breath catch with his anticipation. "When you're working, you can be yourself. You can give the others all the attitude that you want. You can train. You can keep being the villain that you've wanted to be for all of these years. But after your meetings and training are done, you are going to come right back to my room," he reaches for the blanket and pulls it away from his body, making Dabi look down and see that he wasn't just cold from his quirk being suppressed, but because he was stripped out of his villain clothes while he was unconscious and put into a lacy pink nightie, the hem having been pulled up enough that he can see that he's been tucked into a pair of panties that match it. The way that knowledge seeps into his mind, that Shigaraki took off all of his clothes, that he put him in this, touching him while he was asleep when he could have just as easily laid his hands on him to kill him, makes his entire chest go tight. 

He doesn't know if he's ever had a panic attack about anything other than his seams or the overwhelming ache of his quirk since he was a child, but as the fear and disgust start to bloom inside of him out of his control, it makes it very difficult for him to continue listening to what Shigaraki is saying. 

"You're going to come back to my room. You're going to put on the clothes that I've picked out for you, do the things that I've decided for you, and you aren't going to put up a fight about any of it. You're going to become Daddy's good girl while you're in this room, or I'll stop trusting you to behave outside of it and I'll have to let everyone see how badly you need to be disciplined to make you good." 

"You're fucking crazy." He croaks. "I'm not doing this, and if anyone else finds out about this--" 

"They'll help drag you back to my room and tie you down on my bed themselves." Shigaraki's voice is so serenely sure of himself. "I managed to turn an entire city of enemies to our allies in one afternoon. It's been two months now, firefly. Do you really think that there is a single person still in this compound who would stop me from doing whatever I want to you? I could strip you naked, break your legs, put a leash and muzzle on you and force you to crawl at my side all around the building for everyone to see and all they would ask is if they should call my cute little puppy a good boy or girl." His voice is too sure and a sinking pit starts to open up in his gut that screams just how true all of that has been. He hasn't ever seen anyone get on Shigaraki's case since he took over here. He's pretty sure that Spinner and Re-Destro would beg to be in this position with their beloved leader giving them this kind of attention. He is the only person who still protests or throws shit his boss's way and he has seen the way that other people bristle on Shigaraki's behalf, looking to him like they'll see how they should be reacting too. 

Shigaraki hums in the back of his throat, his hand moving to one of Dabi's legs, the ungloved one which is the only reason he doesn't immediately try to twist away. "I debated turning you into nothing but a puppy, but I didn't think that would stick. Training someone, I've found, works so much better if you make sure that it fits what they need. I know that you're obsessed with your family, so I'm going to be your new family, baby girl. You're going to have a Daddy who cares so much about you, who always makes sure you know when you've been a good girl and what you've done wrong when you need to be punished. And not long from now, you're going to be so happy that I've been taking care of you so well." His fingers are frigid as they move up the outside of Dabi's thigh, pushing the nightie higher so that he can see even more of the tiny panties that he shoved him into. He wants to say that he begins to tremble because he's just so unused to being cold, but he knows that it's fear sour across every inch of his veins when the other is touching him that actually provokes the reaction. 

"You're going to start being Daddy's good girl right now." He says easily, bringing the key to the cuffs to his attention again as his hand pulls away from his skin. "Daddy is going to unlock you, baby girl. You're going to let him sit down and then get into his lap. You left a big mess in the kitchen and you were going to run off on an unapproved mission. That means that you need to be punished before you can really be a good girl." He reaches for the cuffs as he speaks, moving to unlock them like he isn't afraid of being set on fire. 

Dabi's mind races as he speaks. Can Shigaraki still be set on fire? The treatments with Ujiko have already gone so far. What if he's fireproof? If Dabi lashes out now, and it doesn't work, then all it would take is Shigaraki's hand latching around his face and then there is no future fight with his father for him to reveal his grand plan. If it does work, then Dabi will have to run from here as far and as fast as possible, and given just how many people are in the PLF, if he does kill their leader, he's not sure he would last even a day without their people tracking him down and tearing him apart limb by limb if he did manage to just get out of the building alive. He stays still and Shigaraki smiles at him. 

"Be a good girl for Daddy." He instructs easily, like he knew exactly what the outcome of this would be long before Dabi even knew that this could happen to him. He lets the cuffs fall away and Dabi's body immediately fills with heat so intense that it starts to trickle smoke out of his seams. Those red eyes, that flat smile, they never waver and he finds himself clutching his fists against his chest as he tries to think of a way out of this. He has survived so fucking much in his life that should have killed him half a dozen times over. He has fought for every inch of the person he has forced himself to be in all of these years. The League of Villains, Stain's ideology, the DNA test, those were the last things that he thought he needed to get him to where he wanted to go. He thought, with the PLF now taking care of everything else, he was going to be able to race forward and take down that bastard the way that he has been trying to for so many years. He thought the end goal was finally in sight. 

It is, he realizes with despair sitting so heavily in his chest that it feels like it's calling back to the child that was alone on a mountain one fateful Saturday night. He can still reach the goal that he's so desperate for, Shigaraki is just changing what it will mean for him to be allowed to If he wants to fight his father, wants to burn him alive for all the world to watch. If he wants the glorious end to this awful existence that he has been promising himself since he woke up in that hospital full of spare experiments, then he has to play by these new rules that he's being given. If he doesn't he'll have to gamble that Shigaraki can still be hurt by fire and then hope he can run fast enough to his family home to confront Enji before he or the rest of the PLF can intercept and stop him. Given how easily he was put in the position to have to make this choice in the first place, Dabi doesn't think that his chances for any of that are very good. 

He is very worried he's going to throw up when he pulls his legs into his chest as he... waits for Shigaraki to sit down on the edge of the bed. Neither of them say a word as Shigaraki does, waiting and watching him expectantly once he's settled. Dabi forces himself to move then, his body still so hot as his quirk screams that there is a threat all around him and tries to make him flee or fight instead. But he crawls over to Shigaraki and accepts it when he makes him lay down across his lap, Dabi able to dip his head low and hide his face in the dark circle of his arms so that he can try to block out as much of what is about to happen to him as possible.

"Good girl." The words come as Shigaraki moves his hand to Dabi's ass and he wants to scream as his whole body is absolutely revolted by the touch. He doesn't want Shigaraki to touch him there. He hates how he's pushed up his nightie so that he can touch the bare skin that the underwear don't cover. he touches him slowly, moving his palm against him, the glove the only thing keeping him safe, as he maps out every inch of his skin from there to down along the back of his thighs. Dabi swallows any sound, protest, anything that he might make, too scared of letting his nerve waver and his quirk sparking through his skin and forcing him to burn Shigaraki and try to run. "Because you've accepted your training so easily, you don't have to have as many spankings tonight, little girl." He says easily, still stroking his skin. 

Dabi doesn't reply at all, only flinching when his ass is suddenly pinched as he lays in the other man's lap. 

"You need to remember your manners, firefly." His voice is a little harder and Dabi squeezes his eyes shut, hating the way that his helplessness is building pressure behind his eyes.

"...Thank you." 

Another pinch. "You need to remember how to address your Daddy respectfully too." 

Dabi doesn't know if he's ever had more trouble forcing his mouth to move as he lays there. He doesn't hide it well either, his voice a hoarse croak when it finally escapes him.  "Thank you... Daddy." 

"There's my good girl. Twenty spankings tonight, and then Daddy will tuck you in." 

Dabi is more familiar with pain than he is anything else in the world. So much of his life has been pain, and even though the hard slap that lands against the center of his ass hurts, the sting of it at first followed by the solid thud that it sends beneath his skin, it's not even near the worst pain he's ever been in in his life. He knows that pain can be so much worse. No, it's the humiliation that comes with being bent over and hit like this that makes it so bad that he is clutching the sheets so that he doesn't set his palms on fire. When the blows spread pain over his ass and down his thighs, he's reminded that even when he was little, he never got spanked like a child. He was beaten and bruised for not being what he was supposed to be until he was discarded entirely, but he was never hit like this. Like he was nothing but a useless, misbehaving child, and he hates the way that this makes him small in a whole different way than he does in the minutes where he wakes up confused from nightmares with smoke still filling his lungs. 

Dabi doesn't manage to focus on the words, but he realizes at some point that Shigaraki has been counting in the same even tone as he talked to him before. He gives him each of the hits with precision and control, never letting Dabi's body grow numb to the pain that he layers into his skin. He is deliberate and calm as he works while Dabi doesn't know if he's been so close to tears since he  had to be held down in a back alley hospital and had his skin stapled back on without anaesthetic. 

When Shigaraki's hand lands against his ass again, not with the force of before, but just stroking and rubbing, Dabi realizes that it is finally over and he lets himself let out a shaky breath as he feels how hard his body is trembling, how much he's sweating from trying to keep his quirk at bay. "All done. What do you say, princess?" 

He's practically hyperventilating as he manages to gasp out, "T-Thank you, Daddy." 

"Good girl." 

Dabi keens like a wounded animal when he realizes that Shigaraki must have unlocked a strength quirk as he doesn't wait for him to pick himself up, he does it. He just so easily scoops Dabi up in his arms and he lays him back down against the bed. He reaches over to the nightstand and takes his glove off of it for his other hand and then turns the light the rest of the way off. The bed dips and Dabi is still shaking so badly as he does his best not to move any way that might shatter how he's clutching onto his sanity as his boss gathers him close to his chest, pulling the blankets up around their bodies. 

"You were always such a fast learner." The words are praise against the crown of his head. "Tomorrow Daddy is going to cancel all of your meetings and we're going to go over all of the new rules you're going to follow to make sure that you always stay my good girl. I don't want to have to punish you if you start to misbehave otherwise, firefly." 

Dabi manages to not cry, to not scream, because he reminds himself over and over again that if he runs now, he won't make it out of the building, let alone to his father. His revenge is all he's stayed alive for since he burned. It can keep him alive throughout whatever horrors he's going to be forced to experience now as he feels the half-hard press of Shigaraki's cock against his hip as the other settles into sleep. 

Dabi doesn't manage a wink the entire night. 

///

There are a lot of rules for Dabi to follow when he's being... Daddy's little girl. His stomach is so sick halfway through them in the morning. He's allowed to do his work outside of the room, to wear his villain clothes and plan for his revenge from nine to five. Villainy, he learns, is a job, a costume that Dabi will be allowed to mostly put on throughout the work day, but it's not something that he's allowed to be all the time now. His meals will be planned out for him and he is required to have breakfast and lunch throughout the day, the food now in specially marked containers in the kitchen fridge. When his day of villain duties is over, he is supposed to come back to Shigaraki's room. He's made a section of the closet for him that has his... princess clothes. Shigaraki will leave something out for him to wear, just like he's going to pick out the girl's underwear that he still has to wear even under his villain clothes now. When he is in this room, he will dress like a girl after he showers and takes a bath and then he will wait to have dinner with his Daddy and occupy his time reading books, watching movies, or playing the games that Shigaraki has downloaded on the tablet that he's gotten for him. If he doesn't want to do any of those things, then he can color in the coloring books that he has gotten or play with the soft toys and other little kid stuff that is now occupying the toy chest that Shigaraki has gotten for him. It makes him beyond sick to his stomach when he opens it and Dabi sees there's a second section of it, another bottom that is full of ‘together’ toys for them to use. Anal beads, plugs, paddles, gags, whips, cock rings, lube, handcuffs, vibrators, and dildos that Dabi never wants the other man to use on him, but that he's made horribly aware that they will be at some point. When his Daddy is home, he is going to follow whatever orders he gives, and he should come to the room to have dinner with him and give him his... spankings every night, even if he can't stay with him the entire time. 

"But..." With all of the other horrible things that are being required of him, Dabi doesn't know why the thought of the spankings alone are so upsetting, but the thought of enduring that humiliation again when his ass is still aching from what happened the night before, makes him feel so much worse. "If I'm... Daddy's good girl, why do I have to be punished?" 

Shigaraki smiles then, a little warmer and takes his hands in his own, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that makes his skin crawl. "Those spankings aren't to punish you, baby girl. They help to make sure that your body knows as well as your head that you're my little girl. That you get to feel good or have to hurt whenever Daddy says you do. And when you're sore during the day at your meetings or while you're training, you'll know where you actually belong." 

Dabi wants to throw himself out the window. Wants to immolate himself right now. He wants this over. But he doesn't want everything that he's been working for to be meaningless. 

He doesn't feel nearly as safe or secure when Shigaraki gives him back his clothes and tells him that he can get dressed and go make sure that he has his bedroom packed up in the boxes that Shigaraki had delivered there. He can't because he's being told to empty out the first space that has felt like his own since he was a child and he's being handed a new pair of little panties to wear under his clothes. Dabi gets to, at least, go into the bathroom to change even if it really doesn't matter. Shigaraki already stripped him naked, is already planning to do far worse than just look at him, clearly, so any modesty he might have just doesn't matter anymore. But he still goes and changes in private and tries not to let the way his mind yawns out with agony swallow him whole. 

He doesn't feel like himself with the silky soft panties cupping his body or the continued ache of his ass and thighs as he moves. But Shigaraki just sighs softly when he sees him dressed like that and then waves him off towards the door. "Don't forget to take breaks for meals, princess." 

The words are said as Dabi pulls the door open, the sound traveling as he sees Spinner stepping out of his own room down the hall. He feels his face flush with his humiliation as their eyes meet, but instead of looking surprised, embarrassed, disgusted, anything, the heteromorph's shoulders just hunch in on a little and he can't keep looking at him, turning and slinking away down the hall without a word to him. Dabi has never considered Spinner a friend, he's not even the strongest ally that he has in the League. But he didn't think that he would just... walk away like that. 

Dabi feels strangely numb as he goes back to his bedroom. The door is gone. He doesn't know if Shigaraki disintegrated it away, or if one of the grunts just did it the old fashioned way with a screwdriver, but it's just gone now. Anyone could just come inside and poke through his things. Dabi didn't know how many ways there were to make him feel so violated, but this is one that cuts him deeper than he even thought possible. There are three medium-sized moving boxes stacked at the center of the room and one garment bag and Dabi finds himself standing there for a long moment. There is a horrible second where he tries to convince himself that this isn't as awful as he thinks it is. But he can't quite make that sentiment ring true in his heart. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to have to go back to Shigaraki, he wants to run as far and fast as he did after the hospital, but there are too many people in the PLF who can stop his flames. He can't just let himself ignite and hope to escape in the chaos. He stands there for... a while before someone comes up to the door. 

"Dabi?" Toga's voice is tentative, but at least she is acknowledging him. He blinks and he turns to glance back at her. Her brows are pulled together and she has an encouraging smile on her face. "Do you need help?" 

He doesn't want help. He doesn't need it either, but as he is left so absolutely unmoored he doesn't have the words to tell her one way or another. She comes into the room and starts to help him pick up his things and put them into the boxes. He really doesn't have much. The files on his family, his laptop, which he hopes he gets back, at least for work, his backpack that has the necessities that he would need if he were to run right now, and... that's it. It only takes up half of one box, his uniforms filling up the garment bag. His socks, pajamas, and underwear go into another box just for the sake of keeping objects and clothes separate, but they fill up a quarter of that space. His toothbrush and hairbrush aren't even in the bathroom anymore, and neither is his medical bag. It takes all of five minutes for them to completely finish with the task and when he's done, Toga comes up, pulling her sweater over her hand before she pats his arm. 

"I'm sure Tomura's gonna help take good care of you." She tells him with the same earnestness that she talks about blood and Dabi wants to grab onto her and set her on fire. He wants to watch her skin blacken against her bones and hold on tight enough that he gets to feel it when her body crumbles away into ash against his palms. But then she turns and leaves the room before he can act on the violent urge that tried to overtake him. Why? Why are they all okay with this? He knows he's been an anti-social and prickly bastard, but he didn't think that he was so bad that they would all just be so okay with the things that Shigaraki is planning on doing to him. 

He stays standing in his room, looking at the empty door frame for a long minute. He has his laptop. Maybe he could just upload the video to the internet so that everyone knew what Endeavor did and then he could just stay standing right here and let his fire ravage his whole body. He could end it in a flashbang that he might even get lucky enough to take out a few of the others in their adjacent rooms if they don't see it coming. He could die right now and save himself any other awful indignities. 

And everything that he did before that will be for nothing. 

Dabi wasn't able to sleep the night before because he was trapped in the same loop of helpless thoughts, but his eyes are burning and there is an exhaustion that is so deep inside of him that he can't believe his body even has the energy to inflate his lungs. He doesn't want to sleep without the door to let him hide his vulnerability from the callous eyes of the others, so he takes everything off of his bed and he brings it into the bathroom. He shoves his blankets and pillows into the tub and curls up inside of it, even though it's not nearly enough padding to keep his ass and thighs from tingling with their hurt as he does so. 

///

Dabi wakes to a gentle swaying and hates it as his senses come back to him as he realizes that he's being carried by Shigaraki again. He hates it even more that as he's barely blinking awake he realizes that Twice is opening Duster's door for him so he can bring him inside to be tortured. Fuck. He thought that of everyone, that he and Twos were the closest to actually being friends. Dabi wants to close his eyes again and have years blink away like his coma. He wants to sleep through the horrors that he knows are going to get pressed into every inch of his skin. 

Shigaraki sees that he's awake and he carries him into the closet. His is bigger than Dabi’s is, an actual walk-in, and he picks out the outfit that he wants him to wear now that it's... time for him to be 'Daddy's little girl' again. Dabi wants to tear off his own skin as he selects a white dress. It's got puffy cap sleeves, a square neckline, and high waist that is supposed to sit under the bust, the bottom layer of the light, flouncy material that looks like it will be fluttery and floaty when it's on. It's a fresh humiliation for Dabi to be forced to strip out of his villain clothes as Shigaraki hangs them up and then has to pull the dress on himself. It is light and airy, and the hem barely hits the middle of his thighs, the ruffles making him look more like a girl as they flare out along his hips and draw the eye to his smaller waist. Dabi knows that fabric like this will burn clean and hot. That he could be an inferno in seconds. That burning again will save him from one horror but it won't give him justice for all of the other ones that he's had to suffer in his lifetime. 

Shigaraki guides him out of the closet after that and over to the living room area and sits him down to... do something with his 'free time'. Dabi holds the tablet in his hand for a few long minutes, seven if the clock is to be believed, and then he starts to click around to see what kinds of things Shigaraki has loaded into the device for him. There are books. They aren't really for adults, but they aren't for little kids at the very least. High school age mostly, all of them fictional stories. The games he's picked are simple ones, coloring, puzzles, matching, some things that he thinks are called platformers, but he only even knows that word from hearing Spinner and Shigaraki talk about their games. The TV shows are child locked on all of the streaming services which limits a good deal of what he can watch, but when he goes into the device storage, he can see all of the other things that Shigaraki has specifically sought out for him. Dabi's face heats sharply as he sees the titles and the small video previews as he finds page after page of pornos that have been added to the device. Daddies playing with their littles, doing everything from spanking them to nursing them on their cocks as they get ready for bed. Dabi's stomach twists into even tighter knots and he has to put the tablet down completely. He tries so hard to not let his breath come in the short, desperate gasps that it wants to. He can't break down. Can't have a panic attack. If he falls apart, Shigaraki wins his game early. 

He picks up one of the stuffed animals from the toy box and just sits with it in his lap for a long time. The moth plush stares back at him with big red eyes. He doesn't do anything with it, but he hopes that he can at least pretend that he was behaving and playing pretend or whatever the fuck Shigaraki wanted him to act like he was doing. 

It's a while later that Shigaraki finishes up whatever he was working on and he stands to go to the door. Their dinner has been left outside and Duster tells him, "Put away your toys, princess." 

Dabi numbly puts the moth back into the box and then sits back in front of the coffee table as the food is set on the surface. He feels like he might come apart at the seams, but at least dinner isn't something for children. It's very normal curry rice and Shigaraki doesn't cut up the bigger pieces of meat or potatoes inside it for him. He's given regular silverware and he's allowed to eat in silence. When dinner is done, Shigaraki turns on one of his games and makes Dabi sit in his lap, his arms wrapped around him as he tries to show him how to play. Dabi's body is seconds from igniting as he can't stop feeling how his skirt has been pushed up, the feeling of Shigaraki's pants against everything his panties don't cover making him more and more tense, pulling his attention from the instructions he's being given again and again, until he's died so many times that Tomura just sighs before he presses a kiss to his temple. 

"Maybe this isn't the kind of game my baby girl wants to play." He tightens his arms around Dabi's waist, pulling him tighter against his chest and nosing along his cheek. "Maybe you want to play something else with Daddy?"

Dabi thinks that if Shigaraki tries he's either going to lose his control or lose the dinner he only barely made himself eat. No, no, no. He knows that at some point this will happen. Shigaraki has made it so clear what he's planning on doing to him. But he doesn't want to rush up to that. He doesn't want to... be raped. Dabi is filled with a sharp, horrible agony as he realizes that of all the horrors he's suffered in his life, that one had never seemed like a possibility when he was able to set his entire body on fire. But it won't save him now. 

He realizes belatedly that Shigaraki is actually waiting for an answer and he manages to shake his head slightly. 

"Okay, princess. Are you still sleepy? I know you took a nap today, but you didn't sleep last night. Do you want to start getting ready for bed?" 

This must be a trick. He knows it has to be. Shigaraki just wants to get him closer to the bed, but the truth is that he can violate him wherever he feels like it. He's proved that to him in every way he could without actually escalating the violence beyond the spankings in the past twenty-four hours by just letting him see how the others have decided that this is what he deserves. He's tired. He wants everything to go away for a little while. If Shigaraki decides to hurt him like that, then maybe after he's finished he'll just let Dabi lay down like he did the night before. 

He nods weakly and Shigaraki lets him get off of his lap and he tells him to go get ready for bed, he'll bring his pajamas to the bathroom for him. Dabi goes inside and finds his medical bag, hair brush, and toothbrush are already in their own neat little spots in the cabinet and by the sink. He goes through his nightly routine in a daze and when he's finished, he finds that Shigaraki definitely came in at some point because the dress and panties he threw on the floor have been replaced with a fresh pair and a new nightie. He tries not to look at either too hard as he dresses and then leaves the bathroom so he doesn't have to look in the mirror either. 

Shigaraki is turning down the sheets, already changed for bed, but he showered in the morning so Dabi supposed that probably means that he's nearly ready to go to sleep too. He tries to just get into the bed, hoping to escape anything else, but Shigaraki catches his wrist before he sits down on the edge of the mattress again. 

"Not just yet, baby girl. You still need your spankings." 

Dabi wants to erode away into nothing as he stands unmoving for a few long seconds before he sucks up the agony living inside of his chest and he crawls back into the other man's lap. He pushes up the nightie again and starts to stroke his ass and thighs, waking the bruises from the day before back up and making Dabi want to cry again so badly that he starts to see pink swimming through his vision. 

"You skipped breakfast and lunch today, baby girl. I just told you the rules this morning and you already messed up." He sounds disappointed, but not angry and Dabi doesn't want to find out how violent this version of Shigaraki will be if he gets mad. Duster was already dangerous enough in Kamino, after seeing how he dealt with Overhaul when he had time to plan his revenge, Dabi is certain that what he'll do to him is worse. That he will absolutely destroy him beyond what he's started right now when he was prepared to do all of this when Dabi didn't even know that he was at risk of any of this happening. 

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he manages to croak. "I-- I wasn't hungry." 

"You should still try to eat a little no matter what, princess." His tone is still softly chastising as his hand runs along his ass. "Five more for every missed meal." He tells him and then clicks his tongue again. "I suppose that means that you're back up to twenty again." 

Dabi manages not to scream or sob through the twenty more hard hits that the other man gives him, but only just, his terror and agony getting higher and higher, not just with every blow, but with the realization that Shigaraki is hard again by the tenth. 

///

Dabi is so quiet after his whole life changes. Everyone in the PLF gives him pitying looks when he's out in his villain gear. Some people apologize to him, some of them say that things will get better soon. Dabi wants to kill them all where they stand. He doesn't know where they get off trying to tell him that everything is okay when they know what Shigaraki is making him endure in that room. He stops talking and after a week he realizes that everyone is acting like that's fine too. He stops going to meetings, using his time out of the room to just walk. Every single day he thinks about going and just ending all of it. Endeavor, himself, but he learns that if he gets too close to the base of the mountain, Gigantomachia has been told to stop him and he has to turn back or get turned into paste. Shigaraki doesn't punish him for walking or skipping work, but that's almost worse, because when that happens, he sighs softly, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

"It's okay, princess, I know that adjusting has been hard for you, but I promise that it will get easier soon. You just have to let me take care of you, and then everything will be better." He makes him cuddle into his chest all night and Dabi wants to cry. He's wanted to cry so badly since all of this started and he is digging his fingers into the seams across his palms to keep that weakness inside of him. "We can figure out a way to make this better." 

Dabi dreads what the other man means by that, but he learns bright and early the next day. Shigaraki makes him get dressed normally and takes him downstairs. He trains with him, making him focus on close combat instead of long range for a while. When he's allowed to switch back to long range, he is not allowed to do anything strong enough that could actually hurt him, and they don't train as long as Dabi normally does. Normally he spends so much time working out that he ends up feeling like he might collapse, but Shigaraki makes him stop, makes him go take a shower, and then makes him eat his lunch back in the room with his princess clothes back on. He makes Dabi a more detailed schedule for the rest of the day, instructing him to read at least one hundred pages of a book, to 'make something', and then later that night he'll get to watch a movie with his Daddy. 

"'Make something'?" He hates that he has to ask, hates that those are the only words he's said in weeks that weren't 'yes', 'no', or 'thank you, Daddy'. 

Shigaraki smiles at him and it almost seems sad. "I got you plenty of things to use, baby girl." He says, going over to the toy chest. There's a new box inside and he takes it out and shows it to him. It's an art kit, not quite for a young child, but it would have probably been a big hit with Fuyumi when she was... well she was really into art right before Toya disappeared. "You can make whatever you want, just make something and you can show it to me when I get back from my meetings, okay?" 

Dabi is at least glad that he won't have to be locked in this room with Shigaraki for a few hours so he nearly lets out a sigh of relief and manages a, "Yes, Daddy." Before Shig smiles again and leans down to kiss his forehead. He straightens up and leaves not long later, changing into his suit instead of his more casual clothes which must mean it's a Detnerat meeting, not that he really cares now. If he could burn down everything that the PLF has ever touched at this point, he would be happy. 

Dabi reads the hundred required pages, making sure to pay just enough attention to the story about a teenage boy whose parents have gone missing, the architects leaving behind a box with three faberge eggs inside. He touches one and it explodes into a shower of gore and shortly after he starts to see a skeleton from a comic series he drew starting to stalk him with ill intentions. It's a fine story, but definitely not something he would pick to read himself. Then he turns to the box of art supplies. Dabi can't draw for shit. The only thing that he remembers drawing were the pictures of... his hero outfit when he was old enough to fight side-by-side with Enji as his successor. But those were things he drew at school because when he was home all of his attention was on training and studying for that future he wanted so badly. 

The art kit comes with markers, colored pencils, a set of six paint bottles, two small canvases, a pad of paper, glitter glue, a twelve color watercolor pan set, a plastic palette, three packages of foam clay in the primary colors, a small selection of paint brushes, and two metallic paint pens in silver and gold. He stares at it all for a long time and then he digs around for the instructions booklet. Thankfully, the booklet has instructions for a couple of projects that can be done with the kit and Dabi figures that mushing the clay into the shape of a bowl that will have to dry for a long time before he does anything else to it will probably take the least amount of skill on his part and will be the best thing to actually be able to show Shigaraki that he's followed his instructions. 

He follows along, picking the blue clay and rolling it out into a long strip. He changes back into his villain clothes and goes out into the kitchen, digging through the cabinets and drawers to try and find a cookie cutter, but settling on using a glass instead which he brings back to the room, using it to roll the remaining clay flat and then using the edge of the glass to cut out the circle for the bottom. He starts to coil the rest of the clay along the edge, building it into more of a cup or a small vase as he does. He doesn't remember the last time he's made something like this, or really done anything that wasn't directly connected to the damage that he wanted to do to get his revenge. He reads in the book that he can smoothe parts together by wetting the clay and he goes and gets a glass of water from the bathroom, trying to be gentle as he smooths out the clay until it no longer has that spiralled shape and is instead a nice, mostly even vessel. There's still hours left until he's supposed to have dinner with Shigaraki, so he wipes his hands off and starts to flip through the other projects in the booklet. He doesn't know much about painting, but he sees a few that are done just by blobbing paint onto the canvas and then using the flat edge of plastic that came with the kit that he thought was miscellaneous packaging supplies and scraping through it. Then waiting for it to dry and adding details on top with the paint pens like flowers or stars. He mixes a dark purple and a magenta and then uses that with the blue and black in the paint kit to smear a galaxy pattern across one of the canvases. He washes off the plastic card and palate while he waits for that to dry and then he flips to another page. He tries to fill a page with doodles the way that the book shows, and that... makes his mind empty. He just starts to create the shapes and lines across the page, filling it over and over again with repeated patterns until he doesn't have any space at all left. And then he picks some new colors and does it again on the next page, and the one after that. Making the lines, filling in the blocks of colors, it lets him stop thinking for a while, his mind emptying out of all of the things that he's been grappling with since he's been locked up like this. 

It's not until he hears the door close softly that he realizes that hours have passed and he's filled up five pages in the sketchbook and completely forgotten about his painting. Shigaraki surveys the mess that he's made all over the table and Dabi bristles, expecting to be punished. But the other man leans down the way he had hours ago and gives him another kiss on the forehead. 

"Did you have fun, princess?" 

Dabi doesn't answer right away. He has gotten good at just saying whatever he knows the other man wants to hear, but he hesitates now because he knows the answer Shigaraki wants is 'yes' and he's startled to find that he... wouldn't be lying if he said that this time. He isn't quite sure that this was 'fun', but it did make him stop thinking about everything else for a few hours and the relief that comes with that makes the tension that has been coiling around every inch of him for weeks subside slightly. Dabi doesn't know how that can make him feel better and worse, but he does feel... differently than he did before. 

"...Yes, Daddy." 

"Good. If you liked that, then Daddy will get you more things like that to play with while he's working." He strokes his hair once more before he starts to move towards the closet. "Now be a good girl and clean up your toys, dinner will be here soon." 

Dabi does as he's told, putting the clay vase and the painting off to the side to continue drying as he packs everything else back up into the box. Daddy comes back in his sweats and Dabi figures that since he showered earlier, he'll be getting into his pajamas shortly after dinner. He's surprised, and kind of... happy when dinner comes and it's pizza, fries, and soda. He spent a lot of his life barely able to get together enough to eat regularly, and once Shigaraki took over his life, he's been fastidious in making sure that Dabi's diet is balanced and that his meals are healthy. He's pretty sure Ujiko might have something to do with them too, but the pizza is just good, greasy, and delicious. He's happy enough to eat this and glad that Shigaraki only asks him to describe the book he read without too much detail. He tells him about it as they eat and even though he usually isn't a big sweets person, he's more than happy to delay anything else when Shigaraki also has two big cupcakes brought in. 

"Toga found a gourmet place and ordered one for each of us. She got you black tea and buttercream." Shigaraki's is espresso with a vanilla bean ganache in it and Dabi just says 'thank you' before they eat those too. When they're all finished, Duster uses Dabi's tablet as they sit together on the couch, telling him that he can pick out the first movie and then he'll pick out the second. He still can't watch much when the child lock is in place, but thankfully there are some pretty fine action-adventure movies that have been labeled 'fun for the whole family' so he manages to pick one of those and they start to watch that. The movie is pretty standard and he doesn't have strong opinions about it, but he is just... glad that he gets to watch it. Spending the afternoon alone, doing something he hasn't had much experience with, getting to eat good food, getting to watch something that isn't news reports or anything to do with Endeavor, that all... feels like it's made something inside of him loosen. Another knot of tension that has been there for so long that he just didn't know that it was even there, he'd become so blind to it.

Dabi is pretty certain that should be the first clue that he gets that things are about to go horribly wrong. 

After they finish the adventure movie it's only nine, so Shigaraki scrolls on the tablet to pick out the next movie while Dabi excuses himself to the bathroom. By the time he comes back the screen is dark with only the pause logo on it and he moves to settle back down on the couch, Shigaraki catches his wrist. Dabi bristles slightly, but he pulls him close as he lays down, crowding Dabi up against his body like he does when they go to sleep and even though he doesn't like it, he is used to this kind of treatment and he allows it to happen. Shigaraki presses another kiss to the crown of his head and Dabi reaches for the tablet and pushes the play button, half hoping that if he can fall asleep during this movie, he might not have to get his nightly spankings. He's had them every single day since Shigaraki started doing this to him, and every time, he feels how aroused it makes the other man, but he never does anything about it. Dabi knows that he will though. He made sure Dabi knew about the toys in the bottom of the chest, he touches Dabi's skin too much for any of it to be even remotely innocent. 

The movie starts and Dabi is immediately confused about the weird music that sounds like it was sourced from a copyright free library as the screen lightens up, showing the interior of a house. It's a bedroom that looks like it's straight out of a reality TV show. Actually, Dabi isn't a cinephile or anything, but the entire quality of the shot makes him think that it was made on a shoestring budget. A young woman enters the shot, wearing only a set of panties and an oversized t-shirt. She comes into the room and lays on the bed, picking up a magazine from the nightstand, and Dabi wonders if they're watching a horror movie. 

He finds out they're not within a matter of minutes, a boy the same age as her coming into the room, her saying her step brother should knock because she's only half dressed, and then the two rapidly escalate into making out on the bed. Dabi's whole body goes hot as he realizes that this must be one of the pornos that Shigaraki downloaded. He feels sick to his stomach when the dad? Step-dad? When an older man who thankfully looks absolutely nothing like either of the other two actors on screen comes in and asks what his little boy and little girl are doing. They try to make excuses but he doesn't let them stop, making them keep going, the two getting hot and heavy fast with him guiding them. Dabi wants to die as Shigaraki holds him close as they watch. Dabi has not watched a lot of porn in his life, he hasn't had much experience with sex either, and he has been doing his best to not think about it while he's been stuck with Shigaraki like this, but he knows now that he shouldn't have let his guard down. 

He hates watching the boy start to sink into the woman, and how he's so inexperienced that he barely makes it two thrusts before he's cumming inside of her and stammering with his embarrassment. He hates that the father-figure makes him pull out, telling him that he's going to show him how a real man is supposed to fuck a cunt, and he doesn't stick his dick into the woman who clearly still wants this. Instead he pins the boy down, squirts some lube into his hole, and then starts to fuck his ass, shoving the boy's face into the woman's crotch and making him lick his cum out of her pussy while he's being fucked. He hates himself for the fact that he has had so little experience with things like this that his body goes from just being hot with anxiety to being hot with... arousal as the men and woman start to get more and more into it, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting and their moans filling up the room. Dabi doesn't want it to happen, and he's trying so hard to will his body to make it stop, but he is starting to tremble as his cock starts to fill for the first time in months. 

The panties that Shigaraki loves to make him wear are always just barely big enough to cover him completely and the skirts are always light and airy, but this time, this one doesn't have a lot of ruffles. It's just one piece, and as he starts to get aroused, his panties and the skirt start to tent and Dabi is breathless with his horror as it happens.

"Oh, princess," Shigaraki notices so quickly that Dabi suddenly realizes that he wasn't watching what was happening on screen at all. He was waiting for this. "Look at that, are you old enough to start to appreciate these kinds of movies?" He reaches for him and Dabi only doesn't twist away from him because the other man isn't wearing his gloves and he is terrified that he's about to be shattered apart as Shigaraki wraps four fingers around the tent of him in his skirt. Dabi barely stops himself from reaching down and catching his wrist, wanting to yank his touch away from his cock that throbs as he's given any touch there when he's aroused. He hasn't had that in so long. Too stressed from everything happening, not just since he was locked in here, but since things went so badly at Kamino. He knows that he doesn't want to be touched now, but his body reacts like it's getting the same kind of nourishment and indulgence as it did when he was able to have the greasy dinner and sweet dessert. He doesn't want it, but the animal part of him doesn't care. The pressure as Shigaraki squeezes him and weighs him against his palm makes his body get more aroused. 

"Don't, please." Dabi isn't sure that he's ever heard his voice so small, but the terror in his chest as he realizes why Shigaraki let him have such a... relaxing afternoon is horrible. He wanted him to let go. Wanted him to forget himself and end up letting his guard down. Has wanted to escalate this since the moment that he took him into this room and has just been waiting to get an excuse for it to happen. 

"You don't want Daddy to touch your cute little clit, princess?" He asks, his lips shifting to press kisses along the side of his neck. Dabi's eyes burn with tears as his whole body, even with the distress that is saturating his mind and making his chest squeeze like there is a vice being tightened around his ribs, doesn't stop his skin from tingling and looking for more of the good sensations that he's being given now. His body has been so strung out and stressed that it can't help how much it wants to be given more of these sensations as the other man keeps touching him. "Okay, baby girl. But I think that it's time for bed. If you can behave for that, we can go to sleep." 

Dabi doesn't know what misstep will constitute as 'misbehaving', but he tries to grasp at any possible reprieve that he can get. "Okay, Daddy." His voice is so thin and croaked, not able to hide his terror in the slightest, and Shigaraki gives him one last kiss and squeeze that makes Dabi's prick ache before he lets go of him and lets him get up.

He was right about not getting to take another shower tonight, and that leaves him without the possibility of cold water chilling his entire body so that he can get away from the bitter arousal that is still sitting on his nerves. But he goes and washes his face and brushes his teeth, taking the slow, methodical actions and trying his best to use them to let some of that heat ebb away. He manages to, at least, not be rock hard anymore by the time that he and Shigaraki are finished washing up for bed. But when they go back out into the bedroom, Dabi dreads what he knows is coming next. He does his best to not whimper as Shigaraki sits on the edge of the bed and waits. He doesn't want to be spanked, but he hopes that the hits will turn off the horny part of his brain with such a firm reminder of what he is actually being forced to suffer in this place. 

But he's barely crawled into Daddy's lap before his gloved hand is moving along the curve of his ass, stroking and teasing the constant ache that is always dully under his skin from taking hits here every single day. Dabi bites his lip hard and closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything else, to send his mind anywhere else, to keep himself from having to feel this. 

"You were such a good girl today, princess. I'm so proud of how well you were able to follow my instructions, and you made such pretty things today. I think that this will be good for you, baby." He praises him and Dabi doesn't want those words. He doesn't like how, with his body stripped down from all of its defenses, they press in on aches deep inside of him that he didn't know lived there and make him feel... good. He doesn't want to feel good, and he is desperately trying to stay soft as Daddy lifts his hand and brings it down against his ass. Sometimes he starts off lighter, building up to the hardest slaps that must have a power quirk behind them to leave him sore enough each day that no matter how he sits, he always has to remember exactly what he is and that he is not going to ever be allowed to be anything else. But today he goes hard right away, hitting the back of his thighs instead of the swell of his ass, making Dabi's body flinch forward, and making him rub his cock against Shigaraki's thigh. 

He doesn't want it, and hardly understands how it's possible, but as the pain of the spanking rushes through his body, that little bit of friction turns achingly sweet and he finds himself whimpering as his prick starts to get hard again. The second hit is against his ass and Dabi is near sobbing when it happens as his cock goes to full hardness, and he feels how Shigaraki's is starting to press against his sweats as well. Everything is only made worse when Shigaraki reaches for the waistband of his panties and he pulls them down in the back. Dabi's breaths start to go shallow and panicked as he waits to see what he does next. 

He's not expecting his voice to be low and hot when he instructs, "Spread yourself wide for me, princess." 

Dabi trembles, choking on the sob that wants to slip out of his throat, but he reaches back anyway. He spreads his cheeks open and holds them there, letting the other man look at him more intimately than any other person really has, and he hates the way that the humiliation of it doesn't take away the fact that his prick is still hard. He doesn't want to be hard, doesn't want to feel any of this, but he can't get away from it as Shigaraki hums. 

"You have such a cute little cunt, baby girl." And then his fingers are against his hole. Dabi's breath catches in his throat, terrified that he'll shove his fingers inside and shatter him when he does. He isn't sure if what happens instead is better or worse than that when Shigaraki draws his hand back and then brings it down again, hard, right against his hole. Dabi lets out a squeal as the pain goes through him, making him buck in Shigaraki's lap. "Now, now, you need to stay still, princess, you have seven more spankings tonight." He doesn't wait for Dabi to comply with that order this time, using his other arm to brace his hips firmly to trap him. Dabi grips his skin tightly, wanting nothing more than to let go and try to get out of the other's lap, but not given a chance to do so before Shigaraki is leveling another hard slap against his hole again. 

When Dabi bucks with pain this time, he can't help letting out a soft cry as the tight hold and the motion makes him all but hump Shigaraki's leg, sending pleasure racing along his skin with the pain. No, no, no-- but the hits keep coming, the friction keeps building, and by the time the tenth spanking is done, Dabi is leaking in his panties and his vision is misted over red from how badly his hole hurts from being spanked. Shigaraki blows against him, the cool air mocking and that shatters him. This is all just a game and he's enjoying every torment that he puts Dabi through even if he feigns concern. Dabi hasn't cried in front of anyone else in over a decade, but the tears come bloody and rough as he sobs. 

"Oh, little girl," Shigaraki's voice is sickeningly saccharine as he uses his strength to take Dabi out of his lap and put him on the bed, on his back so that he can see the shameful way his cock has leaked all through the thin white panties, making them nearly see-through. "Lying to Daddy?" He says, a glint in his eyes that makes him want to set the entire bed on fire. Shigaraki reaches right to his panties and tears them away, the fabric shredding terrifyingly easily and leaving him completely on display with his nightie pushed up. He tries to shake his head, but Shigaraki's hand is already on his cock, squeezing him hard and using the slickness of his pre to stroke up along him, his thumb dragging roughly along Dabi's ladder and leaving him sobbing harder as his toes curl against the sheets from how good it feels to be touched like that. "Saying you don't want to be touched, but you were so eager to hump my leg like a little whore while you were getting your spankings." 

He wants to scream, he wants to protest, he wants to turn them both into ash, but all he does is cry harder as Shigaraki shifts over him on the bed, reaching to the nightstand and taking out a bottle of lube from the drawer. He doesn't want this, but he isn't given any choice about it as Shigaraki comes back between his legs and makes him spread them open wider. He knew that this was coming, has known it for weeks, but it doesn't make the violation now any more bearable as Shigaraki murmurs, 

"Maybe it's time for my little girl to learn how to only be Daddy's whore." He clicks open the lube and ignores the way that Dabi cries harder. He doesn't care. He was waiting for an excuse and Dabi's body finally surrendered to the reprieve of stress and gave it to him. He let his guard down. He... let this happen to himself. He should have known that things would be fucked when he showed up at the League of Villains HQ with a literal child and nearly got killed by his new boss. He should have known better when he realized that he had already crossed paths with AFO's people once when he saw the doctor and the worst of the nomu. He should have never come back after Gigantomachia, should have never made his ambitions so plain that Shigaraki had been able to pin down everything that was so important to him that he would have all the leverage that he would ever need to use it against him. 

Dabi hates himself as much as he hates Shigaraki, as much as he hates his father, as the other man pushes two fingers inside of his swollen, aching rim and murmurs, "Fuck, princess, your pussy is so tight and hot. You're going to feel so good spread open on your Daddy's cock." 

But he doesn't set the bed on fire. He just tucks his face as deeply into the pillows as he can as he cries, and lets Shigaraki's mouth move along his neck and his hand move between his legs. Burning this all down won't save him, and he knows that, it will just give Shigaraki an excuse to be more cruel to him. Dabi hates how little he's stretched for how much it makes his cock leak as Shigaraki nibbles at his neck and teases his nipples with his other hand, making more of that sick, unwanted pleasure take up residence in his body, even as every movement of his fingers makes his sore hole twinge with fresh pain. 

He sobs harder than he ever has, smoke leaking from his seams with his distress, when Shigaraki pulls his fingers out of his body and reaches down to pull his cock out of his sweatpants. He has felt him against his body before, but seeing him now, fully hard, and so much bigger and thicker than he is, only makes the reality of this situation all the worse.

"I know it's your first time, princess," he says, his voice and expression still unbearably sweet. "So it might hurt a little, but Daddy is going to teach you how to be such a good girl for him." He doesn't know if Shigaraki is just playing into a sick delusion for his own gratification, or if he somehow actually does know that Dabi hasn't ever had someone inside of him like this before, but either way, he doesn't slow down or stop as he lines up and starts to push inside of him. 

The pressure is blinding as he's made to stretch so much wider than his fingers, the tension in his body only making it worse as it happens. Dabi thinks his body might be desperately trying to give him some kind of reprieve when his cock twitches as it happens, his orgasm pushing through his veins to take his mind away from that stretch and ache. But the way that the pleasure sweeps through his body for a handful of seconds only makes him feel worse in the aftermath as he realizes that he is still hurting so badly as his hole is stretched wide, Shigaraki still only pushing inside, and not even thrusting properly yet. 

Dabi tries to put his mind elsewhere, to become numb to this pain the way he's become numb to the agony of overusing his quirk, but he stays horribly, achingly present for every thrust into his body. Present when Shigaraki keeps touching him, when he leans down and kisses him, pushing his tongue into his mouth so he can taste his sobs, and then when it laves along his cheeks so that he can swallow away his blood too. He wants so badly to numb himself from this the way that he thought he was managing before as he lost his words. But there is no blunting the horror of everything he is enduring for the eternity it takes for Shigaraki's cock to twitch inside of him and fill him with his cum. 

Dabi cries and cries, longer and louder than he has since he burned as Shigaraki pulls him into his chest when he's finished and strokes his hair, telling him what a good girl he's being. 

///

"I know that you were upset last night, princess." Shigaraki tells him when he wakes the next morning, still sticky and feeling like death. "I didn't realize how much you wouldn't like it to have your clit make such a mess, but Daddy has a way to keep you a cute little girl forever." 

He makes Dabi go shower and he hates that the other man joins him inside, a numb dread spreading through him as he makes peace with the fact that if the other man tries to do something medical to his body, he is immolating himself then and there. When he's clean, Shigaraki takes him into the closet and picks out his princess clothes for the day before taking something out of one of the drawers. The pink silicone sleeve with the metal ring is not something Dabi has any point of reference for, but it looks small, and he squeezes his legs shut tighter when Shigaraki tells him,

"Let me see your pretty clit, baby girl." 

"No." The word feels like a fishhook is being ripped out of his skin. He hasn't failed to comply with Shigaraki's commands since this first started, knowing that doing so would just make things worse for him. But what does he have left to lose now? His villain work has been taken from him, the freedom to come and go, a private space for himself, his dignity, all of it is gone. And last night, Shigaraki did the thing that he was so scared of. Now that that line has been crossed, what is really going to happen but him doing it over and over again? Dabi doesn't know if he's ever going to be allowed on the field again, so why is he bothering to keep preserving himself like this? 

"Don't talk back, princess, or you'll have to be punished." 

"Fuck you, you sick motherfucker." 

He was expecting to be spanked later, he wasn't expecting Shigaraki to hit him across the face so hard that he feels three staples tear free and his stomach lurch immediately with nausea from how bad the pain is. The force of the blow knocks him off of the little stool and sends him crashing to the floor. And Shigaraki doesn't stop there. He sets aside the pink thing and then catches Dabi by the hair, twisting the locks tightly in his fingers as he silently drags him, kicking and clawing uselessly at his hand as he's dragged back into the bathroom. He is bent over the tub, his head forced back, and Dabi sobs fresh as he shoves the bar of soap into his bleeding mouth and then shoves his head under the tap, the icy water pouring out at full blast, filling his nose, and making him thrash as he struggles to find a single breath. His body heats with his flames, his distress so high as he thinks he's dying, but Shigaraki just pulls him back out, glaring at him. 

"If you burn me, I will tear your quirk out of your body forever, princess." And then he shoves him back under again. 

By the time that he's let back out. Dabi doesn't even want to wash the awful taste of the soap away from his teeth, even though there are chunks of it lodged inside of his molars from how he bit down on it as the other man just so casually tortured him. How? How can he keep finding ways to escalate things and make them so much worse. He can't help it when he starts to sob again, and Shigaraki just sighs, picking him up off of the bathroom floor and carrying him over to the sink. Dabi wants to curl in on himself in a tight ball and turn into nothing, but Shigaraki doesn't let him. He runs a towel through his freshly soaked hair gently, then makes him open his mouth and brushes his teeth until all Dabi can taste is mint. He takes out his medical bag and threads new staples through his skin and puts on the antiseptic, the ice cold water of the tub likely the only thing that kept the wound from immediately swelling the side of his face. 

He doesn't make a peep this time when Shigaraki carries him back into the closet, sits the stool back up, and puts him down on it. 

"Let me see your clit, princess." He says again and Dabi just trembles as he opens his legs for the other man silently. Shigaraki picks up the silicone piece again and reaches for him, tucking his cock inside, the space small and tight, constricting him enough for it to be uncomfortable, and Shigaraki frowns. He takes out all of Dabi's piercings and then puts it back on him, and that, at least, makes the pinching sensation go away, even if he still feels like there's not enough room in the cage for him. "There, now my little girl will stay cute whenever Daddy is playing with his pretty cunt." 

He pats Dabi's head like his scalp isn't still screaming from the agony of being dragged through the room and turns to give Dabi his clothes for the day. 

He doesn't remember anything else that happened with how far away and numb his brain had gone. 

///

After that day, things are different. Shigaraki doesn't wait for him to give him an excuse to touch him, he just does whenever he wants to. Nearly every night after his spankings, Shigaraki fucks him. Whenever he has a free afternoon, he makes Dabi get on his knees and teaches him to take his massive cock into his throat until his head is swimming with his humiliation and the thin breaths that he's allowed as he's made to cockwarm the other man for hours and hours on end before his jaw goes numb and then Shigaraki just holds his head in place as he fucks his face until he's spilling his cum all over his mouth and he is left all filthy and used. 

The first time that he does it with him in his 'clit cage', he brings his mouth against Dabi's hole and eats him out. He didn't know that people actually did things like that and he wants to be disgusted, but the way that his tongue is soft and wet, and nothing hurts as he licks inside of him, makes his arousal heat his veins again. He doesn't want that heat, but it's happening anyway-- just not in the way it expects for it to. With the silicone gripping him so tightly, not a drop of blood can get into his crotch. Dabi writhes on the bed as he's forced to feel his body ache and spread that warmth all throughout him, until he's making desperate, anguished sounds of pleasure as he trembles, some other kind of orgasm starting to creep along his nerves, but he isn't allowed to feel it crest. Shigaraki stops, looking at how, even forced soft, Dabi has started to leak out of the tip of the cage. He waits until Dabi's body has calmed and then he fucks him for his own satisfaction, never letting Dabi find that thing that could have lead to his own, not that he ever really wanted it in the first place. He hates everything that Shigaraki does to him, but he takes every action without any further protest. Shigaraki will become crueler if he offers him even the barest thread of an excuse and he doesn't think that he can possibly handle anything else cruel. He hates himself when he sees how hollow his eyes have grown when he looks in the mirror, when he sees his mother's eyes staring back at him. 

Dabi tries to find his resolve, his rage, but nothing comes to him. He just. He just exists like this because he doesn't even know if he could kill himself. He's pretty sure that the doctor can bring back corpses from past the brink, and he doesn't want to see what Shigaraki will do to him if he gets turned into a nomu or something else. He knows that there would be a greater punishment than anything that has happened before, so he just... lets this keep happening to him. Just tries to let it wash over him as he feels so, so empty that he can't imagine getting to exist outside of this room anymore. 

He doesn't know how much time has passed as Shigaraki's plaything, not until one day, the other man comes into the room and takes out the laptop. He sits down next to him on the couch and says that they need to go over the training regiment that he had helped create for the new soldiers as they were preparing to eventually be in more combat. He made a plan for six months when they took over the PLF, not knowing how long it would be until they started to make their next major moves throughout Japan. But the realization that they're a week from completing that plan... it makes something fractured break fresh inside of him, and Dabi doesn't make a sound as his seams start to bleed again as tears run down his face.

Shigaraki sets the laptop aside and pulls him into his lap, hand curling around the back of his neck and shushing him gently. "What's wrong, baby girl?" 

And there is so much living inside of him, so much anger that has turned to nothing but ash from how his flames have been completely smothered beneath his skin, that he just can't stop the words from coming out anguished instead of accusatory. "Why are you doing this?" He sobs, unable to stop the sounds when they come. "I--I never messed up," he's learned not to swear anymore, that lesson is ingrained in him now even as he forgets to hold his tongue. "I did what you asked, I was a good lieutenant--" 

"Shh, sweetheart, oh." He holds him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I didn't realize-- you're not being punished for doing something wrong." He says gently. "I always tell you when you're being punished. But I know that you were ready to leave us. I know that you just wanted to hurt yourself to see the heroes fail. That's not an option anymore, baby girl. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself. You're going to stay right here, with us, with me. You're not being punished for your work, baby girl, and you can go back to it whenever you think you're ready, but you can't just work to hurt yourself. I'm trying to show you how good things could be outside of that. You could come back to our room every night and know that everything is taken care of for you. That someone is always happy to see you and will always make sure you're taken care of. You can have good food, entertainment, and feel good whenever you want. You don't have to suffer and scrape by anymore. You can be happy outside of our work, princess, I'm just waiting for you to let yourself have that." 

The words hit his ears, but they don't seem to sink in and Shigaraki puts away the laptop again and just holds him as he cries and cries. He must cry himself to sleep at some point, but he is still woken back up later on as he's being tucked into bed, Shigaraki pressing a kiss to his temple and murmuring that he can rest for the night, they'll double up on his spankings tomorrow to make up for missing them tonight.

///

Shigaraki has an easel, a tarp, and a massive variety of paints, paint mediums, brushes, and pallets brought into the room for him the next day and he tells him to make something again. When he's gone, Dabi stares at the big canvas and he finally feels some of the anger that was in him spreading again. It's not an expression of art, it's random fury that has him just throwing the supplies at the canvas until there is a huge mess. Then Dabi goes and curls back up in the bed to sleep again until he's forced to do something else. 

And the pattern stays like that for... a while. He doesn't know how long it is. He just knows that the smallest thing sends him sobbing or sends him into a blind rage that he can't do anything with. It gets so bad, and he becomes so scared that he might burn Shigaraki and lose his quirk forever that he digs out the quirk canceling bands from the toy chest and puts those on so that he doesn't accidentally catch the sheets on fire when he starts to have nightmares every single night. They start as just him reliving the memories of being a child. Of being so sure, and then so helpless and angry as his body betrayed him. His determination coming to abject despair when his father didn't show up at the mountain, and then those phantasms morphing again. How he wouldn't have been alone if it was his Daddy that he had been waiting for on the mountain. That no matter how much he hurts now, at least he hasn't ever been lied to, disregarded, or ignored. Shigaraki's hands reaching for him in his dreams and showing him that he can feel good, that he can be childish and useless, but that he can still be worthy of being given attention and being taken care of. Dabi hates it so much, hates himself, but he can't help the relief that goes through him when he wakes up and finds Shigaraki really is right there, and that if he so much as shifts or makes the smallest whimper from the lingering terror of his dreams, the other man rouses himself and pulls him close, stroking his hair and holding him. If that's not enough to make the tension leave him, he gives Dabi a newer horror that takes him out of his memories completely, by having him roll onto his stomach or back to get his cock pressed inside his ass or he has him move down his body and has his soft cock in his throat until he is tired again and falls asleep to a pure darkness. 

Dabi isn't sure his head feels at all like his own anymore when one day, Shigaraki comes back into the room barely after Dabi's lunch is finished. He has a medium sized box in his arms, wrapped in black paper with a bright red ribbon on it that has been tied into a bow. 

"Princess?" 

He looks up. He ate his lunch like he was supposed to, but Shigaraki didn't give him anything else to do for the day, so he's just been... staring, he realises. His tablet is in his hands, but the screen is dark from how long it took him to... what was he doing on it? Playing a game? Reading a book? Watching something? He can't remember. When he's given Shigaraki his attention, the other man moves the box to one arm and then offers his other free hand to Dabi. He never slips with his quirk and Dabi takes three of his fingers and sets his tablet aside as he stands up from the couch. Shigaraki leads him over to the bed and has him sit down on the edge of that instead.

"I know that things have been so hard for you lately," Shigaraki tells him like he's not the reason that things have been so bad. "And I'm not sure that this is going to work at all at this rate." 

That sends fresher alarm bells ringing. He doesn't know what is going to happen to him if Shigaraki decides that he isn't worth the trouble that he's been going through to try and... shape him into his perfect toy. Will he throw him out the same way he was discarded the first time? Toss him to the doctor to be made into a monster? His heart catches in the back of his throat and he doesn't know how to make himself not tremble with terror as he realizes that this might be the last prelude he has to the destruction that Shigaraki wants to bring him to. "I-- I'll be good, Daddy." He tries to promise, his mouth dry. 

"You always promise, baby." He says with a soft sigh, "You always do what you're told and you've been very well-behaved for a long time, sweetheart. But you aren't happy." He puts the box beside him on the bed and then cups his face between his palms, holding him there with eight fingers and making Dabi breathless with the terror of oblivion. "I don't just want you to be well-behaved, princess, I want you to be happy." 

Any other words that he had get locked up tight in his throat. He... hasn't been happy at all since he was a young child and he doesn't know how he could even pretend to lie about being that here when he is suffering every moment that he spends with Shigaraki like this. 

Shigaraki sighs again like he knows exactly what he's thinking before he reaches for the box and puts that in Dabi's lap, the container nearly as big as his torso, but far lighter than Dabi would have expected it to be. He looks at it and then up at Shigaraki again. "Open it up, baby." 

Dabi's hands tremble, terrified of what might be inside as he does. But when the ribbon has fallen away, the paper is split open, and he's able to remove the crisp white lid from the top, he is just left even more confused when he sees that a big white teddy bear has been smooshed inside. He looks back up at Shigaraki and he takes the bear out of the box and sets that aside before putting the bear up against the pillows. It's only when it's fully out of the boxy, the nubby legs of the plush open as it is set at the head of the bed, that Dabi's whole face goes hot as he sees that this isn't just a stuffed toy for children like the moth that he's had since the start of this. This toy was made for adults to play with, the soft silicone lips of a fake pussy in a pale fleshy color visible now. Dabi doesn't understand how Shigaraki keeps finding new ways of making him feel so disgusting and small, but as he looks back up at him, he finds the other man giving him a soft, pitying smile. 

"I know you're not happy being Daddy's little girl, so Daddy is going to give you a chance to get to go back to the way you were before." The words have to be a lie, have to be a trick, but Dabi feels like his chest might crack with how hard they make his heart beat inside of it. "No more spankings, no more princess clothes, you can go sleep in your own room again, go back to work when you feel ready. You just have to behave yourself and not go after Endeavor or mistreat your body again and this will all be done." 

That is so much more freedom than he has now that Dabi would be able to live with that. He could make it through to when the League finally doesn't have any choice but to face Endeavor on the field. He could do that, he thinks, and maybe he won't feel like he's going to shatter apart every single day. 

"All you have to do is prove to Daddy that you actually can be a big boy." He reaches down and pushes up Dabi's skirt. He hasn't worn pants in... months now. Dabi wonders if they'll feel strange on his legs when he gets to again. "Lift your hips, baby." He murmurs, making Dabi push his weight back so that Shigaraki can take off his panties before he reaches for the key that he has been wearing on a chain around his neck since he locked up Dabi's cock in the sleeve. "Daddy is going to unlock your clit and you can have an hour. All you have to do is show Daddy that you can fuck Teddy. If you can make her pussy messy, then when you're all done, Daddy will go get your room ready for you again." 

The humiliation of being forced to use the stuffed toy as the key to his freedom makes him sick to his stomach, but this is the only out that he's been given in all of the months that Shigaraki has kept him here. He has to take whatever chance he can get now, to make it out. "...Okay, Daddy." 

Shigaraki smiles at him, making the chill in Dabi's body go even starker as he tries to find the trick. But it's shown to him all too soon as he reaches down and takes off the cock sleeve. Dabi thought... that it looked different. It was always the same pink, but he thought that maybe it seemed smaller than when he first put it on. He hadn't been sure though, when he was just being made to feel so small and wrong in his own body for months, but he realizes now as it comes off of him, that it is absolutely a smaller model than the one that he had been first shoved into all of those months ago. That Shigaraki must have been sizing him down with identical looking pieces so he wouldn't notice it as he made things worse and worse. Because when the sleeve comes off now, it barely is big enough to fit in the palm of Shigaraki's hand, and showing him his cock that was hidden beneath it, reveals to Dabi that he's been shrunk right along with it. 

Dabi had never given his cock much thought. Even the piercings there, like the ones on his nose, through his chest, along his ears, had been done not for the sex appeal, but because the places without metal on his body were so glaring that it bothered him. He never cared about his dick beyond the fact he was glad he didn't burn it off or something because that would have made his life absolutely more difficult. But he cares a lot as he sees that he's barely an inch and a half long now, maybe an inch wide, settled against his sac and making him feel like he did when he woke up from his coma. When that happened, he had been shocked and horrified by how his body had grown while he was asleep. Now he's horrified by how he's been made small while he was wide awake and just not registering that it was happening. He wants to cry but Shigaraki leans over to set the cage by the nightstand and turns the alarm clock so Dabi can see it as he sets the alarm for an hour.

He takes a shaky breath and tries to move onto the bed, between the legs of the plush. It's mortifying to do so and he doesn't know how he's going to manage this at all, but he has to try. This is the only chance he has to get out of this situation and he reaches down to try to stroke his fingers along his small cock. Dabi's breath catches in the back of his throat as he touches himself. No one has touched him there since the first night that Shigaraki used his body for his own satisfaction. And now that he's out of the cage, it's like every one of the nerve endings he had have been packed closer together and forced him to be even more sensitive than he thought that he could be. He finds himself having to bite his lip hard to keep from moaning as soon as he starts to touch himself, the blood in his veins heating as he does so. 

But his cock doesn't get hard. It feels good, but as he tries to stroke himself, there is just that heat of his blood aching around his body but not making his dick get hard. Dabi starts to spit into his palm but Shigaraki stops him, sitting on the bed and watching him as he touches himself. 

"Don't be icky, baby girl." He says, reaching into the nightstand for their lube. He opens it, and instead of squirting it into Dabi's palm, he leans over and squirts it onto the toy's crotch, the lube sliding along the folds of the false cunt and making it glisten. "Come on, big boys fuck tight little cunts." He says, that edge of mockery in his tone again, as he waits. 

Dabi is beyond humiliation when he has to hold the light stuffed animal in place as he still tries to hold his cock steady as he moves to rub himself against the silicone. The lube and the inanimate flesh is very cold against him, but it is soft and slick and that part of it does feel good. But as Dabi rubs himself on it, getting him and the toy wet in the places that he needs to be to get his cock inside of it, he still isn't able to harden. He rubs and thrusts against the cunt, but he's still having to pinch himself at his base, lifting his shrunken cock to try and make it work right as he tries to get inside of the toy's cunt. 

The hole is small enough that it should be tight around most cocks, but when Dabi manages to push inside, it doesn't quite hug him. It just lightly gives him sensation around his length as he sits inside, having to take his hand away from his base just to manage that. But he's still not hard and he feels how tightly and how precariously he has to hold his hips to... just keep his cock from slipping out of the fleshlight. Dabi shifts, using his hands to hold the teddybear around its soft waist and then trying to move the plush body into him so that the silicone will clutch his cock tighter and he can mimic fucking it the way Shigaraki said to. That feels better, but he still slips out after a few weak movements. He has to push himself back inside again when his cock only manages to turn a little pinker as his blood goes to it, but it still can't get properly hard as it happens. 

He tries to work himself up, and the oversensitive nerves of his cock obliged, but he's slipped out of the cunt again when he gives another thrust, rubbing the lips along his soft length before he shudders and gasps as he cums. His whole face flames red as his cock pulses with pleasure that he hasn't felt in months, and hasn't ever felt like this before as his cum doesn't gush out in bursts, but just dribbles out of his soft length and drips on the toy and down his balls. He is humiliated, but he still makes himself glance up at Shigaraki to see if that has earned him his freedom. Instead he finds the other man just looking at him with blatant amusement. 

"That's not how a big boy is supposed to cum when fucking a pussy, baby girl. You can try again, you still have time." 

So Dabi does. He spends a desperate ten minutes trying to force his overstimulated body to put blood in his cock, stroking himself rough and hard to just try to get hard. When that still doesn't work, he pushes two fingers into the cunt along with his cock, trying to force it to stay inside even though the position has him slumping deep into the plush toy as he tries to thrust. But that sensation, the knowledge of how hard he's trying and how poorly this is going, doesn't let him get as aroused as he needs to even though he just wants to be done with this and get out. 

He still has twenty minutes left on the clock when Dabi... gives up. A sob tears out of his chest and he just lets himself slip out of the toy, tempted to throw it off of the bed. He should have known that there never really was a chance for him to get out. Shigaraki has stacked this deck in his favor completely, and he never had a chance of getting free. It was always going to turn out this way for him.

"What's wrong, princess? You still have time." 

But it doesn't matter. He isn't getting out of this, he isn't going to make his body do what he wants it to, and he absolutely can't force his head to work right either anymore as he pushes away from the toy, a sob tearing out of his chest. He knows that he's absolutely ruined and that he's done fighting it when the tears fall down his cheeks and he turns to push into Shigaraki's space because Shigaraki is the person who is always there, who always comforts him when he cries. Ruined. He's been ruined since he was five. At least this Daddy still wants him broken. 

He lets out the loudest, most wracking sob that he has since he burned, and Tomura immediately shushes him and gathers him into his arms. He strokes his skin and kisses the top of his head. "I know, princess. I'm so sorry Daddy had to be so mean. But you understand now, don't you, baby girl?" 

Dabi never wanted to let his mind stray into the delusion that Shigaraki has been trying to craft for him since he brought him to this room and took away everything that he thought made him him. But he does feel it now. in the mess in his chest, his head, his soul. He's so broken. He was so broken before he ever reached this room. He was ready to die, ready to do it screaming and furious because he was numb to everything else for so, so long. But he's not numb anymore. He feels every aching wound that has been carved into his skin from a lifetime of existing in a role that didn't want him, a father that threw him away, a body that didn't want to live. He feels it all, and he feels how solid Shigaraki's arms are around him, how his body isn't as brittle and thin as it used to be because he's made sure that he has been eating well since he took over making decisions for him, how he's aching and sick with his emotions, but they aren't burning him alive this time because he was able to make him give up his quirk to the bands at his wrists so he would actually be able to let them scream out of his chest. 

"D-Daddy," he sobs, trying to push himself deeper into his arms like the embrace will make it all better. He just wants to feel better. He doesn't want to fight anymore. He just wants to not hurt anymore. 

"I'm right here, princess." He murmurs, kissing the top of his head. Tomura reaches over to the nightstand and turns off the alarm that would have run out. "It's okay, Daddy's going to help you feel so good now, baby girl." He makes Dabi move back between the legs of the toy, shifting him so that he is resting most of his weight against the soft toy, his clit pressed against the soft wet folds of the fake cunt and his face able to get buried against the white fur, staining it red with his tears where he does. But Daddy's hands move around so that he can cup his tits, playing with his nipples as he presses kisses along the back of his neck. "You're so cute, princess. It makes Daddy so happy to see you opening up like this. You deserve a reward, baby girl." 

Dabi wants to feel good. He doesn't want this big ache in him anymore, and if his Daddy can make it go away, then he'll do whatever he asks. He just wants it all to stop. So he sends his mind to his nerves, to the way that Tomu's hands are cool against his skin, but they're gentle and careful with his quirk as he tweaks his nipples until they're so sensitive that just the way the fur is tickling them makes him very aware of hos sensitive his soft clit is as it's pressed between the bear's legs. He moans, rubbing himself against that texture as his Daddy's hands move down his body, around his hips, and to his ass. He spreads him open and then one leaves so that he can gush more of the icy lube against his pussy. He hasn't had Daddy's cock inside of him for a couple of days, he realizes dimly, and he missed the way his pussy would ache from the stretch of it. He lets himself arch up a little more, pushing the toy more firmly between his hips so that it lifts them more and keeps them open for his Daddy. 

"That's it, baby girl. Can you tell Daddy what you want?" He says so sweetly, pressing another kiss to the back of Dabi's neck as he pulls his hands away from his skin entirely, making Dabi whine weakly. 

"Want Daddy's cock, please." It's too easy for the words to fall off of his lips as tears slip over his cheeks fresh. "Wanna feel good, Daddy, please, please, please," And he knows he's not just begging for right now, he's begging for forever. He doesn't want to hurt ever again. He wants to know if he surrenders right now, that he's never going to have to hurt again. 

"There's my good girl." Tomura's voice is so warm and happy as he says it, the sound of his zipper pulling making Dabi moan as he rubs himself against the fleshlight again as his arousal goes hotter than the other tangled emotions in his head. Daddy kisses along his spine as his fingers go back to his cunt, making sure he's all wet and that his nerves are all hot and sensitive as he rubs his fingers against him. "So cute like this, sweetheart," he murmurs, taking his fingers away so that he can rub his cock against his cunt, letting the lube there get him nice and wet as his arms wrap around Dabi's waist and he angles his body up a little more so he can look down the length of him, making Dabi brace his elbows against the bed. "Your clit is so pink, baby girl." His voice is so hot in his ear and Dabi doesn't let the words stoke the humiliation that he's felt for so many months. He takes the words as the praise that they were always meant to be and can't help humping against the toy again when they sink into his skin and make his body tingle with fresh pleasure. "That's it, good girls don't have hard cocks that fuck pussies, they have cute, soft little clits that they like to rub. That feels so good already, doesn't it, baby girl?" 

Dabi can't make words from around the whimpers and moans that are already coming out of him, and he only manages a breathless nod as he feels how hard Daddy's cock is against him, his insides already warm from how badly he wants it inside, making him full and touching the special place that has made his body so hot each time he's made love to him without actually letting him cum for the past few months.

Tomura catches his chin and turns his head back towards him. He presses a kiss to his panting mouth and Dabi can't do anything but moan into it, clutching onto the sheets even tighter as his Daddy takes that opportunity to start to push his cock inside of his pussy. It always feels big, but after not having it for a few days, when his body is so hot and tight with his want, it feels even bigger and has Dabi moaning loudly as he pushes his hips back into it. But that takes pressure off of his clit, and then he wants it back and he feels trapped between the desires as he's stretched more and more as Daddy sinks so deep into his pussy. His whole body is shaking badly, a fresh sob tearing out of his throat as Daddy parts from the kiss to lick away some of the blood on his cheeks. 

"It's okay, baby, Daddy is going to make you feel even better. You're always going to feel so good now, princess." He promises. And he's kept all of his other promises. Not like-- Dabi pushes away the thoughts of the mountain. He doesn't have to think about that or that father anymore. Not if he chooses to become the little girl that his Daddy wants now. So he holds his body the way that Tomu wants as he pushes the toy harder into his clit, letting Dabi rub between the silicone folds as his Daddy starts to roll his hips too. His cock stirs him up, the thickness and length of it able to put pleasure deep along his walls and send his quirk fighting against the bracelets like it might try to tear free from his veins. Dabi feels like he's going to melt, his arousal finally high enough that he feels his clit twitch and start to get hard. He whimpers as it just gets enough blood in it to stand up a little, nudging at the toy's cunt. He whimpers, and Daddy notices. 

"Here, baby, don't worry, you're going to stay Daddy's good girl forever." He promises, shifting the toy so that he isn't nudging the hole anymore. His fingers move against Dabi's clit and that makes him moan even louder, his insides squeezing tightly around Daddy's cock from how good just that feels. He's not expecting it when Daddy takes his hand away and pushes his fingers deep into the toy. He hears a soft click and then Dabi is howling as the toy's whole pussy starts to vibrate, making his clit twitch and spill after barely two thrusts that Tomura's harder fucking brings him through. He whines and gasps, stars exploding across his vision as he's allowed to cum with stimulation against his clit and inside of his pussy for the first time in months. It feels so, so good without his head being as messy and bad as it was the first time, and he just lets himself whimper and whine, squirming beneath his Daddy as he keeps fucking his insides and keeps the toy vibrating against Dabi's hypersensitive clit as he does. Makes him keep going until Dabi is crying again weakly, drooling down his chin as his whole body shakes through a third orgasm, this one not letting out a drop of cum from his soft clit, but it still makes him feel so good. 

It takes a few more thrusts after that before Daddy fills him up with his cum and starts to press more kisses against his skin as he turns off the toy and tosses the messy thing off of the bed so he can roll Dabi over and he can lavish him with more kisses and cuddles. Dabi is dazed and sleepy, his whole body exhausted when they're finished, but it feels nice that Daddy wipes the cum off of his body and the tears from his face. He even picks him up and carries him to the bathroom. They take a bath together and Daddy washes his skin, gives him more and more sweet kisses, and Dabi's head feels as soft and floaty as his body does in the water. 

When they're all clean, he gets taken back into the closet to put on his nighty, but Daddy doesn't give him his panties. He brings him back to the bedroom instead and has him bend over for his spankings. He doesn't protest. Daddy needs to give him these so that he always remembers how to be his good girl, and he doesn't cry when he gets the ten that he needs every night. But he does start to whimper when being rubbed up against Daddy's lap without his panties on makes his clit hurt from how sensitive it is after being touched so much today. 

"It's okay, baby girl. Now that you know how good things can be when you're being well-behaved, you know that can be a special treat." He presses a kiss to his temple before he reaches back to the nightstand and picks up the cage again, then he hums. "I think this one is a little too big for you now, don't you, baby?" 

Dabi nods. It's whatever Daddy says it is. So long as he keeps paying attention to him, so long as he helps him not feel so messy and bad anymore. Daddy goes and gets a smaller one and gently tucks his clit inside of it before he gives him one more good night kiss. Then he holds Dabi close and he's able to fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep for the first time in months. 

///

Dabi didn't know that he was choosing to be so sad for so long, but he feels so much better after that. His Daddy starts to spend more of the day with him. Helping him to start to exercise again. At first it's just little stuff in his room, but eventually he wants to take him down to the gym and he gets him to put on his black pants, white shirt, and heavy boots. Dabi hasn't worn clothes like these in so long and he squirms around uncomfortable in them for a long time until Daddy gets him to put on a new bra and set of panties so that he can feel the comforting sensation of the lace against his skin. He takes him down to the gym and starts to make him exercise more, not just his body, but with his quirk too. He also takes him to the doctor, making him show him how his quirk works and talk about how it hurts when it does. There isn't an immediate solution for it, but the doctor sends the readings for his quirk off to the actual part of Detnerat that makes support gear so that he can have something new that will help make him not hurt as badly if he has to use his quirk a lot. 

And even though all of that feels like a lot, Dabi is rewarded every day that he has to do it all by getting to go back to his and Tomura's room. There, Daddy dresses him up in cute clothes again and dotes on him constantly. He lets him crawl into his lap whenever he wants to have cuddles, lets him kneel between his legs whenever he wants to know that he's making Daddy feel good too, and he rewards him for being so well-behaved by taking him into bed and showing him that he doesn't need his clit to cum. He can be such a good girl by learning to squirt instead. 

"Ah, ah, Daddy," he used to try and hold all of his sounds in, but now he is loud. He can't help it. Daddy makes his body feel so good that he can't keep them inside. He doesn't even cry that much anymore, only when his body is so, so hot and he needs it so badly that he can't focus. But with his pussy all full of Daddy's cock again as Daddy fucks him deep with his legs drawn up over his shoulders, a few tears slip out. His whole body is so hot and bright, no blood able to go to his clit in its micro cage. He wants to cum from his pussy, but Daddy has changed angles whenever he feels close. 

"That's it, baby, tell Daddy what you're feeling." 

"W-Warm, Daddy," he gasps, his thighs shaking badly. "Good. So hot, Daddy." Not his quirk. Daddy still lets him wear his bracelets when they're not training, and this is the first time that he thinks he's ever felt like melting just from the way that his Daddy is stroking his insides. He didn't know that he could feel so good that it would make him feel this hot. 

"Yeah?" Daddy kisses his neck. He always likes to kiss him there. And then his hand shifts from the back of Dabi's thigh to his pussy. He gathers up some of the lube that as been fucked out of his cunt and pushes it back inside along with his fingers, making Dabi howl as he is given such a big stretch alongside his Daddy's cock. His whole body goes taut as his fingers immediately push inside, the rhythm of his thrusts never stopping, as he starts to rub them against his prostate in a constant circle. He is keening, his moans higher and coming out with every single thrust. "What about now, baby? Are you feeling a pressure?" 

Dabi doesn't know if he manages to nod, to respond in any way, because he is so lost in the sensations that are going through him. It's too much, too good. He doesn't know what to call the sensation that goes through him before that molten heat of his insides starts to trickle out of him through his clit. It's the hot gush of something thinner than the dribble of cum that escapes his cage when he gets to orgasm, but it still feels wonderful as Daddy keeps fucking his pussy hard. 

"That's it, baby girl. You did such a good job. Daddy is so proud of you." And that makes his whole body feel even better as Daddy keeps fucking him until he's cum too. Dabi likes being a good girl for his Daddy so much, and that's all he focuses on when Daddy tells him that except for special occasions, his clit will only get to squirt from now on. 

///

Dabi has been working out with Daddy for a few weeks when he packs up a little bag for him. It has his sketchbook in it along with a package of alcohol markers, a few pencils, and some pens. He makes him put on his villain clothes and brings him down to one of the big meeting rooms, sitting him at the table, the other chairs all still empty. 

"Daddy has to attend this meeting, but he still wants to spend time with you. So you get to come here and sit while he works. You can draw or you can listen, and when work is all finished, we can go have lunch together, okay, princess?" 

"Okay, Daddy." He hasn't had to think about work in a long time, and as the other lieutenants come into the room, they don't acknowledge him, but they do greet Tomura as they sit down and start to talk about work things. Dabi doesn't pay attention for long, keeping his head down and filling up one of his pages with spirals and hatching. He hasn't had to focus on people besides his Daddy talking in a long time and all of these voices in the room are too many for him to be able to do it properly. He doodles, Daddy works, and when it's all done he gets to go back up to their room and be his princess again. He doesn't give it another thought. 

But then they go to another meeting the next day. It's smaller, just Daddy and Re-Destro, and with less voices, with him already being so used to following along with anything his Daddy says, Dabi is able to listen a little more to this conversation, still drawing, but not managing to finish the whole page like he did the day before. Detnerat has done a good job of taking over a lot of the support gear supply for a couple of major hero agencies. Ones that will definitely want to do something when the PLF makes its first moves. The pieces aren't just going to fail when they attack, they should detonate, taking out or badly injuring a good amount of the heroes that might be called against them. That's... a good plan. 

"How has no one noticed the bombs?" He asks, his voice soft, but the room is small and mostly quiet. Re-Destro looks surprised that he's spoken, and Dabi looks to his Daddy, nervous that he wasn't supposed to say anything but Tomura is smiling at him sweetly. 

"The doctor was able to recover the body of the woman who attacked Toga in Deika. Her quirk was harvested into a nomu that will be able to turn each one into a bomb the moment that we need it to detonate. There isn't anything for the heroes to notice before then." 

"Oh, okay." He ducks his head back down and tries to keep drawing, but he does listen to the rest of the conversation, noticing that Re-Destro does start to include him more, even if he doesn't directly ask for his thoughts on anything that is happening. 

He doesn't get punished for asking a question during the meeting, and his Daddy tells him, "If you have questions about what's happening, you can always ask, sweetheart. You can be as involved as you want in work outside of our bedroom, precious." 

Dabi rolls those words around in his head. He's been Daddy's little girl for so long now, he's not sure he remembers how to be anything else now. 

///

But over the course of the next two weeks, Tomura takes him to meetings every day.They get up early in the morning to train, come back to the room to clean up and have breakfast, and then they go to meetings until lunch. Dabi still brings his sketchbook, but after another two days, it has less doodles in it each one as he starts to take notes instead. That feels slow and clunky when the others sometimes talk so fast, especially when it's about things like the political climate that Dabi has a hard time following along with quickly. He wants to follow along though, his brain starting to focus more as they get back into the runnings of the PLF. 

He asks Tomura if he can bring his tablet one day, and Daddy gives him his laptop back instead, letting him sit and type up his notes throughout the meeting that he does find to be a lot faster and easier to review later. And he has time to review them because two weeks into this new routine, Tomura starts to leave him in the League's common area after lunch so he can go see the doctor until dinner. The others sometimes come through the room, but Dabi always curls in on himself, focusing on reading the files he can get into now that are related to the things being talked about in meetings, and they never come over to talk to him. He might be happier now that he's given into being his Daddy's little girl, but he still remembers how scared he was of it and how badly it hurt at the start. They all seemed to know it was what was best for him, but he doesn't like that. He is still mad at them for it and doesn't want to talk to them right now. Thankfully, none of them come to talk to him either. Sometimes Twice or Toga come and sit on the couch, not too far from him, but they do their own things and let Dabi curl in on himself and not talk. 

When Tomura comes back from the doctor, they go back to their room and over the meal, Dabi can ask about any of the work that is still being done as he realizes that he's been Tomura's baby girl for a year and a half now. 

"We're just taking things more slowly, baby girl." Tomura tells him easily. "The doctor could have rushed my progress, but then I would have had to be away from you for four whole months. I would rather take the treatments in smaller bursts as my body adjusts to my new quirks and I get to take care of you." 

That helps to make his insides a little warmer. "Did our numbers really double?" 

"Of course they did, princess. So many people are unhappy with how the heroes have handled the shift in power from All Might to Endeavor over the past year, especially after the good will from the fight with Hood wore off." 

Dabi hasn't heard anyone say his father's name in a long time and he feels Tomura's eyes on him and searching as he does now. He waits for the rage to come and make him want to burn away everything that he is so that he can be certain that Enji burns too, but it doesn't come. He just feels disgusted, tired. He still wants him dead, but he wants him gone so that he isn't a constant reminder of everything that he went through to make it to this point. It's a strange, slow realization that has him setting down his fork when it fully sinks in that he... wants to be here. Even as Shigaraki is giving him a taste of who he was before he started to be his little girl, he doesn't want to rush back into that life. He just... wants to be content like this. He can do his work during the day, come back to the room and put on these clothes just as easily, and then let his Daddy take care of everything else. That this can be enough, can be good and he doesn't have to worry about anything else beyond that. 

"Daddy?" 

"What is it, princess?"

"...Am I... still a lieutenant?" 

Tomura's eyes meet his and then Dabi drops his back to the table. "You are as soon as you think you're ready to go back to work in your full capacity." He says, his tone still patient and kind. 

"...Will I... still be your princess?" He doesn't know if he can give this up to go back to work. But knowing what the organization is doing, seeing how it has changed, what they're capable of now after a year and a half of work? That is interesting to him, and feeling his head start to work again just from listening in at the meetings for the past few days has helped him to start to find a middle ground between the hazy bliss that being with Tomura has put his head in, and the way that he used to be a real villain with real goals of his own. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing though, and he... wants Tomura to decide for him. 

His Daddy smiles at him, reaching over to hold his hand with four fingers. Always so careful to never hurt him with his quirk even when he used to behave so badly. "Of course you will be, precious. You'll be mine forever, sweetheart, no matter what. Daddy is going to destroy the whole world to make certain that you can live however you want to." He doesn't say it, but the way that Tomura's eyes search his, the hopefulness in his expression begs him to consider, 'Isn't that better?' 'Won't that be better than the end he was racing towards before this?' He asks it without words and Dabi isn't expecting how sharp his chest aches when everything left inside of him screams his answer.

"I want to live with you, Daddy." He manages to say after a long minute. He wants it all to be finished, and then he just wants to be taken care of like this. Attention, affection, whenever he needs it. Someone who cares to notice his needs and make sure that they're actually being provided for. Someone who won't throw him away if he does something wrong and will instead take the time and effort to teach him to be better, who will punish him and then let him move forward. That is so much better than anything else that Dabi thought he would ever be able to ask for. 

"Okay, firefly. Then Daddy is going to help you start to get acclimated to work again." He smiles at him, "And when you're ready, when the PLF is ready, we're going to tear down the whole world together, until only the things that you like are left." 

That sounds nice, but Dabi knows that it only seems so good because he's never had anyone want to do so much for him since Toya died. 

///

Tomura had already started the process, easing Dabi out of what he now knows was some sort of subspace that was just letting him go along with whatever Tomura wanted him to do while they were together in their room. He still readily goes back to that each night, happy to pretend to be his little girl again who doesn't need to think for himself. He gets to be soft and small in their bedroom. He draws and colors when he doesn't have anything to do, he asks for cuddles and closeness when he wants that instead, and he gets to enjoy it whenever his Daddy decides he wants to do dirty things to his body. Putting on his villain clothes in the morning feels more like putting on a costume than it does to put on his princess clothes when he goes back to their room at night, but he knows how to put them on, knows that his tablet will have a schedule for him to follow along with just like the League's fridge will have his neatly labeled breakfast and lunch so that Tomura can see to his own business and treatments during the day while Dabi's time is occupied. 

It still takes a month of him actually being back to work before he has something to say at one of the lieutenants' meetings. It's nothing too big, just a tweak to the timeline that he thinks would work better if Tomura's treatments are going to continue at the rate they are. He isn't expecting the entire room to look at him like he's a unicorn or something. Like maybe they're afraid that if they breathe too loudly they'll scare him off again. But the suggestion is marked down and when the meeting ends, he follows his schedule to go have his lunch. 

He's only just finished taking out his bento and heating the portions that should be served warm when Toga comes into the common area too. He takes his food to the table and sits down to eat and she starts to rummage through the fridge. She's in there for a while, long enough he's halfway through his meal before she gives up and just goes to the pantry instead. She eventually sits down with a bottle of juice and a package of chips, taking the seat right across from him. He normally doesn't do anything when he's eating but focus on his food. Before Tomura started to take care of him, he used to work through all of his meals, just eating whatever he could get his hands on to make sure that he got something in him without wasting too much of his time. He tried to work on stuff again, but that made his head messy the same way it had felt back then and he didn't like it. So now he just eats his meals in peaceful silence-- or it would be if not for Toga rocking in her chair and taking loud sips of her juice, crunching her chips, or tapping her nails against the table. It's a constant flurry of sound and motion just on the edge of his awareness that he doesn't like. 

Dabi hasn't really spoken to anyone outside of meetings, and he doesn't want to start, but when he lets himself glance up and she is quickly trying to look like she wasn't staring at him he finds himself annoyed enough to put his voice back in his mouth. "Did you need something?" There is more vitriol in his tone than he's shown anyone in months, maybe over a year given he never speaks to his Daddy so rudely anymore. The memory of soap puts him off his appetite, but he knows that he needs to behave and finish the rest of his meal. So he starts to eat again, barely tasting his food when he does so and going faster than before so he can be done with this conversation and this meal so he can go work on his reports before he changes back into Daddy's Little Girl for when Tomura gets home. That will help to take away the uncomfortable memory of his misbehaving and the uncomfortable way he feels having to spend time with any of the others outside of work. 

"How are you doing?" She asks as soon as he speaks, abandoning any pretense of wanting the food that she picked out. "Did you miss us? Did Tomura help?" Each question hits him like a lash against his skin and he bristles further. "It's been so hard not to talk to you, but Tomura said that we had to wait until you were ready, and you've still been so quiet in meetings, and I know we're not supposed to rush you, but I just want to know that you're okay, and I don't know if this is too much--" 

It's absolutely too much for him, his entire body heating with his quirk as he's put so immediately on his back foot as she seems to burst with the questions. "Tomura helped," He says immediately, even though the rest of what she says is so confusing. "I'm fine." He would rather not be here anymore though so he tries to finish up his meal so he can leave. 

"We thought you were fine before, but are you really fine now?" She asks, her voice lowering like she knows that anyone overhearing this could get her in trouble. 

"I don't know what you mean." He tells her, because he doesn't, and he's half hoping that his ignorance will just get her to shut up. 

"Tomura said that you... were gonna hurt yourself and... leave us behind." Her voice is a little more subdued now and the words do surprise him enough that he looks up at her again. And her expression is heavy and... almost scared. The way he remembers seeing those shadows around her eyes when she helped him to pack his bedroom. "He said that you needed time, and when you stopped coming to work, we got worried, but he said that you were still trying to get better. And now you're back but he said that you might still not be ready to talk to us-- or anyone. That we had to wait until you talked to us before we could talk to you so you wouldn't get overwhelmed."

Dabi takes all of the words that she lets pour out of her and he puts them all together in a little box for him to deal with when he's not having to hold himself together so tightly the way that he is right now. "Tomura helped. I don't want to talk." Those are the words that he thinks he needs to use so that she stops spilling hers so much. This is the most he's looked directly at her since he started working again, and he finds that her face is a little slimmer, more of her baby fat going away as she spent the time it took him to make his peace with his new life just growing up. 

But her expression still falls sharply when that's all he says. "Oh. Okay, well... when you're ready to, if you want to, we're all really happy that you're back, and we would love to hang out and stuff again, like we used to." 

"I don't want that." He tells her, and her expression, if possible, gets even sadder. He shoves the last bite of rice into his mouth and then stands to go wash his bento. Thankfully, she doesn't try to talk to him any more after that, leaving her drink and chips on the table as she exits the room. 

Dabi goes back to his and Tomura's room and he stays in his villain costume while he does his evening work and waits for his Daddy to get back home. 

///

He's rotated Toga's words around in his head about a thousand times since he finished his reports, and when Tomura comes home he's relieved that he can put them away while his Daddy comes to give him a kiss and help him pick out what outfit he should wear tonight. He's happy to take his shower and then put on the soft short-sleeved blouse, with the high-waisted cupcake-style skirt with two rows of little heart-shaped buttons down the front. He likes his stockings, and he feels very cute with the little black shoes with modest, sturdy heels that Daddy lets him wear. It's Friday, and Daddy will have to leave early for a treatment on Sunday, so they're having a date tonight. He gets to pick out the food that they order that doesn't have to be healthy and go with his diet, and then they get to watch a movie together before Daddy takes him to bed and spoils him rotten. Dabi likes their 'dates' a lot, even if he doesn't think they'll ever do anything like this outside of their room, but now he wonders if that's because... of what Toga said. 

They settle down to eat, and Dabi asked for American food today and his Daddy has provided, hamburgers, cheese fries, and milkshakes. It's good and different from what they usually have, but after a few minutes, his Daddy stops eating and Dabi stops too, feeling his eyes on him. 

"Toga came to see me before I came upstairs." 

Dabi feels his face heat, ducking his head to his chin. "...She was being pushy." 

"She thinks so too. She feels very bad about it. She was in tears when she came to tell me that she bothered you during lunch. Do you want to talk about it, princess?" He asks, and his voice is very patient. 

Dabi plays with the straw in his drink, not wanting to look up at him. "... Did you tell them all that I was going to... hurt myself? Before you made me yours?" He remembers how hard that betrayal hit him, how angry he was when they just left him to have what he thought would be the worst things he would ever endure happen in this room in the same hall as theirs. He was so angry at them that had been part of the reason that he had stopped going to work in the first place. 

"Dabi," He looks up immediately, so used to his Daddy using sweet names for him when they're together. Tomura stands and moves around to his side of the table, bending down so that they're eye-level with one another as he takes his hands between his, his treatments so far along now that he can use all of his fingers to do so without risking hurting him. "If I had let you go that night, would you have come back?" 

It's hard for him to put himself back in the place that he was all those months ago. Hard because remembering that makes his whole body hot and his head and heart hurt. He doesn't like remembering how close he had been to storming to fight Enji without caring what else happened afterward. He just wanted to show the world exactly how big of a fraud and failure he was. He was going to burn down his family home and make sure that both of them were mixed together in the ashes of the--

Dabi pulls his hands out of Tomura's because his body is going too hot with his distress, his seams starting to bleed smoke. "You didn't let me." 

"No, I didn't, and now you wouldn't go and do something like that, would you, baby girl?" 

"No, Daddy." He swallows hard and admits the thing that he knows has been true for a while now. "I want to stay with you." More than he wants his revenge. He just wants to be allowed to keep existing like this. He just wants someone who will take care of him, who will make his life feel so much easier after so long just scraping by. He wants... his Daddy taking care of him, and kissing him, and telling him how good he's being when they're together like this. 

Tomura smiles at him, his hand moving to his cheek as he starts to stand up. He presses a kiss to his forehead. "I want you to always be with me, princess, and I've been waiting for you to want that too. I have a present for you." He brings him over to the bed and makes him sit on the edge as he goes back into the closet, and digs out a small flat square box from his side. it's wrapped in the same black paper with a red ribbon on it as his other present was and Dabi hesitates to open it, but Tomura gives him an encouraging smile. 

He tears away the paper and opens the lid, revealing a pretty pink leather collar with a soft scalloped edge and lace-like eyelets cut into it, gold findings at the front and at the back to secure it, an o-ring on the front. 

"This is a collar, princess. You'll get to wear it all the time, and everyone will know that you belong to me." He says sweetly. "I've had it for a long time now, but I wanted to wait until you were ready for it. Are you ready for this, sweetheart?"

Dabi doesn't know why he hesitates for a second. He should know by now that everything Tomura does is for his best interest. He was doing what was best for him long before he knew what he needed. "Yes, Daddy." 

"Good girl. Let's put it on." He reaches for the leather and unthreads it gently. It's cool around his neck as Daddy puts it on him, making sure that it's just tight enough to be snug without being tight enough for it to bother his skin. When it's in place, Daddy presses a kiss against it, the same place he always kisses his neck, and Dabi's whole chest goes so warm as he realizes that Daddy was imagining this even all the way back when he was being such a naughty brat. 

"Thank you, Daddy," his whole body is warm, his whole face, and he barely manages to bring his voice above a whisper when he says, "I love you." 

Tomura gives him that same warm, patient smile that he always had since he brought him into this room. "I love you too, baby girl, and I'm going to show you that every day until the end of time. But right now we need to go finish eating before your milkshake melts." 

"Okay, Daddy." He's still warm as he takes his hand and leads him back over to the table. His Daddy knows best for him and he's ready to be whatever he wants him to be, inside and outside of their room, until he's proven that he was worth all the work that it took to get him here. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment/ask. If you'd like to get a commission, consider checking out my guidelines at the bottom of my pinned post!

[taradactyls]

The full Bennet Family Finances endnote from Ch33

I’ve been doing some more maths (ch26 has the initial discussion) on the savings that our characters might do/should’ve done since it’s fascinating to me and some of the comments I’ve been getting have been making me think more about it. One of the common themes is surprise at just how negligent the Bennets were at saving, instead of merely being stretched thin by expenses. I understand this completely, as it isn’t something that’s explicit in an easily recognisable way for modern audiences.

So, where could they have been more economical? They don’t go to London, no one has a gambling addiction, all travelling (which was EXPENSIVE) is done cost effectively, and they certainly didn’t spend all the money on tutors and the like for their daughters. I’m sure there’s actual academic papers by historians on this (I miss my uni access to those so much) but I can take some educated guesses.

We know Mrs Bennet is just bad with household management. Part of which might mean ordering too much food (it’s mentioned she keeps a good table, so this is as close to canon as we can get) and perhaps not being efficient with what she does order, ie wanting different meats from night to night, instead of having the leftovers served as stews or whatnot, not keeping an eye on the prices of sugar, salt, etc to buy when they’re cheap, making special orders instead of purchasing what’s readily available, etc. We know none of the Bennet women assist in the kitchen (as the Lucases do) so that’s more work for servants and thus likely to contribute to the need of an extra servant or higher wages. Household management could also be more innocuous things like always buying the expensive bees-wax candles, instead of using tallow when guests aren’t around or in out-of-the-way rooms. And being inefficient with candle usage (this is likely a Mr Bennet flaw too, if he enjoys reading in his library at night) in order to have a room better lit than strictly necessary. There was a reason families all tended to gather in one room after dark, and the Bennets notably don’t. Also having fires in all the principal rooms instead of just the ones likely to be used that day. If there’s ways to be inefficient with funds when it comes to cleaning, I’m sure they found a way there, too. Basically, anything that requires forward planning to help with economy would be lacking.

 But that’s all ‘essentials’ just done inefficiently, what luxuries might they have had? They have the income to warrant their carriage, horses, and it seems Mr Bennet does hunt, but that’s also a standard expense for his wealth, so let’s focus on what might be pushing them to their limits. Other than the over-provisioned dining table, which we’ve mentioned, nothing about their socialising habits seems excessive. Mrs Bennet’s love of fashion could be pushing her wardrobe bill up, Mr Bennet’s love of books could be a VERY expensive hobby, and of course – five daughters out at once. Having five daughters out (especially unnecessarily as Lydia and even Kitty were quite young to be out) cost a LOT of money. Lady Catherine was rude as anything, but her surprise at the fact was warranted. Other than money, it also meant the daughters were in direct ‘competition’ for the same limited amount of suitors, which theoretically might hurt the elder girls’ chances. Five distinct wardrobes for young women which needed gowns for all occasions, going through dance shoes and gloves very quickly, bonnets, etc, all added up. At the start of the book multiple hundreds of pounds a year would be going to keeping their daughters looking the part while mixing in society.

But Jane’s only twenty-one or twenty-two at the start of the novel, and came out at fifteen at the earliest. Yet the Bennets still never saved money, and never overspent their income, so there were other expenses they were able to drop which had been preventing them from saving money for the first sixteen or so years of their marriage. I think it’s fair to assume there’s random, one-time bigger expenses that were undertaken with any substantial spare money: perhaps the hermitage Mrs Bennet mentions is a newer addition, was the coach (which are normally ordered around the start of a marriage) refitted more recently, how often is the décor of Longbourn updated (and on that note, are things like the sofa reupholstered or completely replaced), do they impulse buy vases and sculptures, make sure whatever alcohol they do buy (which appears to be a reasonable amount for their class) is the expensive stuff, etc. Whatever it is, it’s a both parent problem. Mrs Bennet is bad at money management and instead of changing her habits or preparing her daughters for financial hardship puts pressure on them to marry (preferably rich, but she doesn’t seem to have a complaint about Wickham in that regard). Mr Bennet is smart enough to see that there is a problem and how to fix it, but after his first idea fails (have a son to break the entail and thus provide for his widow and other children – which doesn’t even necessarily mean the girls would get a dowry, just that they would never live in poverty) does nothing to reassess the issue or find a solution. He essentially shrugs his shoulders and lets his daughters shift for themselves. One parent is too stressed about money and only addresses it negatively, and the other isn’t stressed enough and doesn’t address it seriously at all. Neither do anything productive, even though changing their habits would be enough to fix it. I love them, but MASSIVE parenting failure on their end; and hinted to occur because the parents were too used to comforts and different themselves to be able to work together and act on a solution.

Now for some actual MATHS! Which, yes, I realise I am strangely excited about.

The idea that most of the Bennets’ money is spent by having so many daughters out at once seems to keep popping up in my time on the internet. So, I thought it would be interesting to see what their dowries could be if that five-daughters-out-at-once money wasn’t spent on other things before any daughters were out. Costs of this could vary a bit between families, and though we know Lydia’s expenses were almost £100 per annum that includes board and food as well as little gifts from Mrs Bennet, so we can’t simply multiply that by five and be done with it. But, given Mrs Bennet’s desire for fashion and the poor financial management we see from her and some of her daughters, it’s quite possible clothes were being bought new rather than pulled apart and remade more than they ought to be, so spending £50 to £60 a year on each daughter being ‘out’ seems reasonable. For the purposes of this, let’s look at a total of £250 and £300 a year for all five, and in the 4%s because that’s where the money settled on Mrs Bennet apparently is. After sixteen years of marriage (when we will assume Jane comes out) that’s £5,456 or £6,547. Meaning that just doubled their dowry, even if they save nothing else after that. If the interest is left alone, that’s more than £1,000 that’s added to it before the novel even begins. Suddenly Mr Bennet dying at the start of the novel would leave his widow and daughters with between £11,500-£13,000 instead of the meagre £5,000 they actually have.

And the girls didn’t all come out at once, so just to put some numbers to it for math purposes, let’s say Elizabeth came out one year after Jane, Mary two years after her, Kitty another two years later, and Lydia the following year. For simplicity, each girl coming out is going to remove the same amount of money (when realistically it’s likely Jane, who needs everything new, and Lydia, who’s spoilt, would have cost the most). With the lower estimates of expenses, that’s £8,062 saved at the time of the novel, taking the total for Mrs Bennet and the girls to £13,602 or £2,612 each, assuming nothing else is saved. At the higher cost for the girls being out, that’s £9,676 saved and £14,676 that they’ll eventually inherit a share of. Still below what they should have as dowries, but a vast improvement, and proof of why having five daughters out at once was an additional strain but not THE strain. It was just another element in a mountain of problems.

“But what if it was in the 5%s?” asks no one but me. I think they would stick to the more stable bonds Mrs Bennet’s dowry is in, but if they didn’t, the same situation as above would save £9,243 (or £14,243 total) or £11,090 (£16,090 to share or £3,218 each).

For pure funsies, the numbers if Mr and Mrs Bennet had also saved the interest of the £5,000 settled upon her (which by itself would grow to £12,324 in the 4%s) in addition to these savings are:

£20,387 (£4,077 each at the start of the novel) with the £250 expenses estimate. At £300 for all five daughters out, we get to £21,998. Both of these numbers suddenly mean the Miss Bennets would never have to fear poverty when Mr Bennet died and they would individually each be as rich as their mother was, and though they wouldn’t be counted as rich themselves, would at least have something respectable. They might not cost their husbands money to marry.

AND THEN if everything is in the 5%s but that original £5,000, and the interest it gains is also moved to the higher interest account, the grand total would be either £22,528, again assuming the £250 expenses, and £24,376 at the £300 estimate.

I’ve been doing some equations for Darcy, too. So, let’s talk about that next chapter, to give me time to really figure it out.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

I just read the article you posted a while back about TB (heads up- it said the gift article link has lapsed or some such). Did J&J ‘evergreen’ (be allowed to be evil) or was it allowed to become generic?

Relatedly, how do you manage empathy fatigue? I deal with OCD too and it screams at me that I have to care about and do all the things all at once. How do you choose where to put your time and energy?

(Also, when I get the coffee subscription for my husband’s birthday, which version should I get?)

For me empathy fatigue sets in when I careen my attention from this crisis to that one to the next one to the one after that, always feeling overwhelmed by each emerging problem but never having the time or attention to devote myself to one problem or another.

I'll give you an example. In 2014, a horrific ebola epidemic swept through Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. The world paid attention to it. Everyone was talking about it. And then .... it ended. At least in the global imagination. Money dried up. The world moved on to the next crisis.

That's not to say the next crisis wasn't important. It was important. But in Sierra Leone, the ebola crisis wasn't really over even after people stopped contracting ebola. 15% of Sierra Leone's healthcare workers had been killed by ebola, and the already fragile healthcare system plummeted into what one Sierra Leonean physician described to me as "a state of collapse."

And so the crisis remained a crisis even after the world's attention shifted. 1 in 17 women in Sierra Leone were dying in childbirth. Over 10% of kids born died before the age of five. Tuberculosis killed thousands every year despite curative treatment being available.

And this is when Hank and I finally, belatedly realized that responding to crises in the news was not adequate. Instead, we would need to commit the kind of long-term attention and long-term support that long-term crises demand. This means making difficult choices--there is also high maternal and child mortality in countries other than Sierra Leone, but we choose to focus on Sierra Leone because we see an opportunity to make a difference, because the government is serious if limited in its commitment to improving healthcare and educational opportunities, and because we had to make a choice or else we would be overwhelmed by the many causes.

What about the other causes? Well, we trust people to work on those causes. We believe in their importance. And we support their work by doing ours as well as we can, and trusting they are doing theirs as well as they can. I still get overwhelmed. I still get depressed. But I find that the deeper I go into my particular areas of interest--global healthcare delivery, health care accessibility, ending TB, fighting maternal mortality--the better I feel personally, and the more good I feel like I'm able to do.

2. Johnson & Johnson has not abandoned their secondary patents on bedaquiline but they have committed to allow generics to be available in most countries, even those where the secondary patents apply. Unfortunately this deal leaves out many countries that need generic bedaquiline, including Ukraine, which is absolutely unacceptable. So progress has been made, but the progress (as is so often the case) is inadequate. The fight goes on.

[444you]

CARRIE BRADSHAW’S TIPS TO A HOT GIRL SUMMER .ೃ࿐ CHANNELED MESSAGE

learn the romantic languages. go on a parisian diet. order groceries from other countries. make true authentic dishes. watch old hollywood movies. listen to artists like brigitte bardot, lady gaga, and mariah carey. have more bare face days. really examine yourself. do you have moles, freckles, cellulite? things that are viewed as flaws. look at how it adds to your beauty instead of taking it away. think about the people you’ve seen in person who aren’t pretty in societies norms. average everyday people. see how they have these distinctive features. how their beauty shines. have a self love alter. no it doesn’t have to be for a deity. it’s for you. put pink candles, flowers, pearls, pictures of you. put little offerings on it. as if you’re giving it to yourself. maybe get yourself a promise ring, promise to attempt to prioritize yourself. change your number if need be. limit your posting, you don’t need to let everybody have access to your life. stilettos are cute but being comfortable is even cuter. pair any outfit with platform flip flops, chinese slippers, or kitten heels. go watch girlfriends. sex and the city too. on the days where you wanna stay home and relax, pour yourself a glass of champagne or wine. for those under 21, purchase martini glasses and make mocktails. sign up for those beauty subscriptions, the ones that give you beauty products every month. it’s a nice surprise every month because you don’t know what gifts you’ll receive. try a pottery class. write a list of everything you want in a partner. get as detailed as you can. subscribe to a fashion magazine. spend your money at vintage boutiques. try to hang out with your friends as much as you can. you don’t have to go spend ur money every time you hang out. put yourself in new situations. for example, say you’ve never been the type of person to be in interested in cars.. go to a cruise in. you might enjoy being there in that environment or you may not. say you love being alone. be alone in a public setting like the grocery store or mall.

[sirfrogsworth]

I found these replies very frustrating and fairly ableist. Do people not understand that disabilities and functionality vary wildly from person to person? Just because one person can draw with their teeth or feet doesn't mean others can.

And where is my friend supposed to get this magic eye movement drawing tech from? How is he supposed to afford it? And does the art created from it look like anything? Is it limited to abstraction? What if that isn't the art he wants to make?

Also, asking another artist to draw something for you is called a commission. And it usually costs money.

I have been using the generative AI in Photoshop for a few months now. It is trained on images Adobe owns, so I feel like it is in an ethical gray area. I mostly use it to repair damaged photos, remove objects, or extend boundaries. The images I create are still very much mine. But it has been an incredible accessibility tool for me. I was able to finish work that would have required much more energy than I had.

My friend uses AI like a sketchpad. He can quickly generate ideas and then he develops those into stories and videos and even music. He is doing all kinds of creative tasks that he was previously incapable of. It is just not feasible for him to have an artist on call to sketch every idea that pops into his brain—even if they donated labor to him.

I just think seeing these tools as pure evil is not the best take on all of this. We need them to be ethically trained. We need regulations to make sure they don't destroy creative jobs. But they do have utility and they can be powerful tools for accessibility as well.

These are complicated conversations. I'm not claiming to have all of the answers or know the most moral path we should steer this A.I behemoth towards. But seeing my friend excited about being creative after all of these years really affected me. It confused my feelings about generative A.I. Then I started using similar tools and it just made it so much easier to work on my photography. And that confused my feelings even more.

So...I am confused.

And unsure of how to proceed.

But I do hope people will be willing to at least consider this aspect and have these conversations.