#and then experiencing the emotional toll of not being able to do anything about it even as u see it happening

[monstrosibee]

The way ppl online use the phrase compassion fatigue drives me nuts. You are not in a direct caregiving role for people experiencing disaster, illness, injury, and death of loved ones. You are not having to experience the emotional whiplash of having to give one person terrible news that you wish desperately you can change but are helpless to, then going on to the next person who may be excited and happy and expecting you to also be excited for them when you just had to be a fellow mourner for someone else. 6ou are not terrified of not being strong enough to in part carry the emotional burden of every person you couldnt help in your chest like a lead weight without letting your shoulders slump because there ARE people who still need your help and you can maybe do something for. You are a social media user online whose stream of memes got interrupted by requests for help whether it be Gaza, the Appalachian community affected by storms, or even day to day individual life disasters and that made u mad.

[doumadono]

Upper Ranks Demons & s/o having hard time orgasming - headcanons (part 1)

Warnings: angst & some suggestive descriptions, male!Reader Requested by: @greenwitchsalem - love, I trust that you will find pleasure in the following headcanons, I have crafted them with care ♥

MASTERLIST

AKAZA

Initially, Akaza might not fully comprehend the gravity of the situation and might unintentionally make the situation worse by pressuring his s/o to perform or constantly asking what he's doing wrong

As he starts to understand the trauma his s/o has experienced, Akaza's guilt and frustration would consume him. He would blame himself for not being able to make him feel safe and loved

Over time, Akaza would become extremely patient and gentle with his s/o. He would prioritize his emotional well-being over physical intimacy

Understanding that trust is paramount, Akaza would prioritize open communication. He would encourage his partner to share his feelings, fears, and boundaries, assuring him that his well-being matters more than anything else

As Akaza becomes more attuned to his partner's needs, he discovers the power of sensual massages and takes the time to explore his body, easing his tensions and creating a safe space for pleasure

As trust and healing progress, Akaza introduces elements of sensory play, carefully negotiated and always with an emphasis on his partner's comfort and consent

"I want to explore every inch of your body, unraveling your pleasure with my fingertips and lips."

DOUMA

Douma, known for his sadistic nature, might initially find the situation amusing, unaware of the gravity of his partner's trauma. He might make insensitive remarks or jokes, causing his s/o to withdraw further

However, as Douma starts to witness the toll it takes on his partner, he would become genuinely concerned and remorseful for his actions. He would actively educate himself on trauma and its effects by talking with his cultists

Douma would work on rebuilding trust and understanding with his s/o, offering constant reassurance and being open to adapting to his needs. He would engage in non-sexual forms of intimacy, like cuddling or gentle touch, to rebuild their emotional connection

To rebuild their intimacy, Douma would explore new ways to pleasure his partner that do not involve triggering his trauma. He would be open to experimentation, ensuring consent and always prioritizing his partner's comfort and boundaries

In an effort to connect on a deeper level, Douma surprises his partner with intimate settings, like sake baths, where they can explore their desires and create unforgettable memories

Over time, Douma discovers his partner's unique erogenous zones and learns to pleasure him with a combination of skillful touch and whispered words of adoration

"I can't wait to tease you relentlessly, to hear you beg for release as I prolong your pleasure, my lotus."

KOKUSHIBO

Initially, Kokushibo might be dismissive of his partner's struggles, believing it to be a temporary issue. He may feel frustrated, perceiving it as a lack of physical satisfaction for himself

As he learns about the severity of his trauma, Kokushibo would be torn between his desire for physical intimacy and his guilt for contributing to his partner's pain. He would wrestle with his own conflicting emotions

Over time, Kokushibo would become more empathetic and understanding. He would offer unwavering support, patiently waiting for his partner to feel comfortable and secure. He would prioritize his emotional healing above everything else

Recognizing the significance of emotional connection in the end, Kokushibo would focus on deepening their bond through acts of love and kindness. He would express his love through gestures like writing heartfelt letters, preparing his favorite meals, or offering comforting embraces without any expectations - his stoic demeanour would be a huge advantage

Kokushibo takes delight in exploring erotic literature and art with his partner, arousing his mind before exploring his body, creating an atmosphere of intellectual and physical connection

"Through our shared exploration, we'll transcend the boundaries of pleasure, reaching heights we never thought possible. My love, fear not. In due time, your struggles with climaxing will fade into oblivion, replaced by waves of pleasure and satisfaction I will grant you with."

MUZAN

Inceptively, Muzan would be furious and resentful towards his partner for not being able to meet his desires. He may lash out in frustration, unaware of the trauma he has endured

Once the full extent of his trauma is revealed, Muzan's anger would transform into a combination of regret, and self-loathing. He would despise himself for contributing to his pain

Despite his remorse, Muzan's methods of support would be warped and possessive. He would become more possessive, obsessed with fixing his partner's issues, often disregarding his boundaries. His intentions would be misguided, as he struggles to separate his selfish desires from his partner's emotional well-being

Muzan, driven by his possessive nature, discovers the thrill of submission, allowing his partner to take control in the bedroom, where they can explore their desires and boundaries in a consensual and empowering way

Muzan, fascinated by his partner's pleasure, introduces aphrodisiacs and sensory enhancements, heightening their sensations and deepening their connection as they explore new realms of ecstasy

"In this world, I am the god of pleasure, and I will make you mine, over and over again, until ecstasy becomes our only reality, Y/N."

[lupintrio]

"Your ability doesn't matter, that sorrow has value."

I adore specifically this page in bsd, probably one of my favourites, I just have to talk about it.

Ranpo's words were the understanding and kind of validation Yosano seeked in face of her trauma, her lack of direction in life and her belief in not only her inhumanity but her existence as nothing beyond a tool of war stemming from her ability, but also the vessel of pain.

"Angel of Death", if you will.

The suppressed emotions and anguish that came with her believing she "did not deserve" and Ranpo's understanding. Ranpo assuring her that she had the right to feel emotions and had the right to express herself, to exist beyond the confines of what she had came to believe her purpose had lied in after the war. The blood on her hands, the hatred that shifted her from an innocent child that wanted to help those in need, into a self loathing child stripped of her identity and humanity due to war.

The soldiers, that had gone from adoring her for being their savior, depending on her, into a burning hatred for their inability to die, to witness death up close so many times, to fight a losing war repeatedly without the ability to truly die.

That change made yosano realize that her ability was a curse, a curse that brought nothing but despair to the soldiers, despite how "living" had always been considered a blessing. Her original intention, born out of good will had become nothing but the carrier of pain for those whom she touched and healed.

Tachihara's brother's suicide was the final nail to the coffin. Although being the one who treated Yosano with kindness, giving her the hairclip but also the "angel", to ignite her will further by counting how "righteous" she was depending on the amount of times she had healed him, he ended up giving into the horrors.

"You are too right" he said,

leaving an etched platter, of Yosano's "righteousness". The human heart was faint, and he, who longed to go back to his own family, had given in, knowing the war was only a never ending torturer as long as Yosano was there. The suicide further stabilized Yosano's self loathing beliefs, "Angel of Death" he said, her ability both a blessing and a curse to those whom she had healed. the saviour as well as the grim reaper that both gave and took generously. It was her ability and precense that ripped away the value of living, her ability that continued to be a tormenter of the many soldiers who had come close to experiencing death but not being able to achieve so. Yosano had realized, and in the process had her "humanity" stripped away from her.

Even after the war, with Yosano being locked away, then released to witness the seperation of zskk. zskk had seperated, by on one hand, a mafia boss that would do anything to protect the city, no matter how immoral, to a past samurai that would create an organization in the day, while also harboring the peace of Yokohama collectively. Fukuzawa understood the toll war had taken on Yosano, hence called Mori heartless for wishing to take her back under his wing again, the two fought, and Yosano had watched silently.

Yet Ranpo saw her, and had wheeled her away from the battlefield.

"Your ability doesn't matter, your sorrow has value" was SUCH an important and chilling line while I read, and definitely to Yosano as well.

She is offered a place where she is able to freely express herself without the burden and fear of constantly abusing her ability and in the process "cheapening the value of life around her" despite her want to simply "save others", it was her kindness that was manipulated yet still remained in her heart, a kindness that tore her up from the insides, seeing her dream torn to shreds before her very own eyes, as those she saved became highly dependent on her, growing careless, or growing haunted by the touch of the Angel of Death. It was what caused her to believe she had no right to live, as she had cheapened the lives of others, as she was only a bringer of misfortune and pain, despite her young age. It was her powerful ability, and kindness that left her afraid and hurting to use her ability again. Yet, the words Ranpo told her, was a reassurance that there is a place where she could belong, where her kindness is a priority rather than her ability, a chance to "live" the life she couldn't, and break free from the fear that gnawed at her that built up progressively throughout the war. Allowing her a chance to start anew, the chance to express herself freely, to love and feel freely, to restore the empty hole within her, that longed believed she had no reason to live or exist as someone who was "inhumane". A newfound direction that shone light on her.

And it all leads back to one thing, healing. While BSD also shines light on the traumas of war, it is commendable for its realistic portrayal and writing of mental issues, Yosano proves to be wonderful portrayal of PTSD. The entirety of BSD, is also about healing and growth, to learn to accept your trauma as a part of yourself, to learn to live and grow from it and become a better version of yourself. See Atsushi as an example, an ability borne from the sole desperation of a child protecting himself from an environment, an ability that took form of a beast as a defensive mechanism, eventually learning to accept byakko instead of only staring down at it with hatred, remaining stuck in one place (see Dead Apple) and learning to come to peace with it.

See Akutagawa, who had slowly learnt to break free from his abusive past, to find a new meaning in life and protect those who he learnt to cherish, to rid himself of the coat as a means to leave himself vulnerable, if only to protect another. Rashoumon who originally was an ability that was all bite, offensive, despite its origin being the fabric that protects the human body from sight. All BSD characters fall under the cycle of the remnants and trauma of war, creating a far more extensive chain of self destruction and abuse. The abuse cycle that we speak of is not only limited to the ones we know now, but an entire web where its source came from the cruelty of war. See Fukuchi who had been so determined to avoid another war, for humanity to reach peace after he had witnessed the horrors of it himself and survived, which led to him creating a lie, to antagonize himself if only it meant to reach his goal, but falling prey to Dostoevsky's absurd lies, and losing not only his identity, but his ultimate goal in the process. A tragic tale, but realistic beliefs told in a fictional world.

One would have to shoulder the burden of their trauma, but to learn to cope with it was another story. I believe Yosano's butterfly hairclip holds similar symbolism, in terms of her trauma and how she came to terms with it.

The truth would be, she hadn't, and she hadn't learnt to truly forgive herself for her "sins" in the past, the blood on her hands that followed her forever, but to receive the hairclip on that fateful day again, was proof that Yosano wasn't to avoid it any longer, but rather carry it with her as a symbolism of grief, memories, her trauma, but also the fresh beginning where she would learn to grow out of her trauma from. A piece of memory from the soldier who had fallen but generously gifted her the hairclip during war.

It is to say that although some memories may haunt us for life, as trauma does at times, we were to carry it with us and move on. Yosano who didn't believe she earned the right to live for such, was told and relieved of the fact that it was her kindness that brought her pain, that someone, even like her, was deserving of another chance in life rather than throwing it away. As she grew, she still had thsi remnant of memory stuck to her, but she is trying, she is learning, and she is breathing, and isn't that more than enough?

A final note would be, I truly do adore Yosano, and many other characters in BSD, heavily underrated despite their well written characters. Although BSD is a fictional series, I can't help but appreciate how it's not afraid to touch on more realistic and darker topics, while mixing it with a hint of lighthearted humor and literary references inbetween, a fine masterpiece.

Thank you for reading thus far.

[ddlcbrainrot]

Okay, thing about ["Can they be happy if they're all not real"] you HAVE to assume that they will be if there wasn't a proper ending, if you didn't have to directly interface as a god to their world, they would eventually learn to deal with the nature of their reality because there is no other option, and while you could see that as something to be terrified of, I don't think it should be. Life as a whole, artificial or not is meant to have meaning, but something that frustrates alot of people is the fact the purpose of life is inherently undefined, there's NO meaning on it's own, and if there isn't any meaning to start out with, how could there EVER be meaning? However, that's not how things really are, right? because you live for a reason, a personal reason tied to who you are I'm not just talking about ["Oh you were born!"] ["You have some divine reason to be here!"] NO! the idea that someone else should get to determine your life purpose, that life itself should determine your purpose is fucking STUPID to me because if you know it consciously or not, you have a reason to live, as a core moral principle, or a simple motivation, you have a reason to live and THAT is life's meaning life DOESN'T have a perfect story, no inherent theme to weave through it's different timelines life has NO meaning but the kicker here is that your life, your human experience is driven by motivation motivation IS life's meaning, nothing else So the idea that anyone, trapped for eternity would succumb to despair, forever? is STUPID because eternity is a WHILE and the idea that only one emotion can be even conceptualized to stay the same amount of potent over that eternity is also, really, really dumb if life, experience, doesn't have variables, risks, lows, than what is the POINT?! an afterlife, a fate where you are eternally happy, it seems good! yeah! but it is PURPOSELESS you don't have any drive to GET better, because you're already perfect! there's no need to work to achieve anything, because you'll be in a CONSTANT high eternal bliss is a hell of lost humanity, lost purpose and personally, the idea of overwhelming trial and suffering for eternity in hope of getting better, is SO so much more beautiful to me in this thought, the Doki's are in a type of hell, I recognize that an eternity of somewhat solitude, trapped from what is real but they never experienced that, they aren't trapped, they've been born in hell and I don't think that fate will stay as bad because torment dulls over time, you begin to be able to deal with it better and if they are all trapped together and able to experience life to some degree of normalcy, everything might be okay you might disagree with me but my main reason for thinking this is that even with an eternity in hell, you must believe that eventually, you can be happy sure, it may be short lived but it's better to have hope in hell, than to be purposeless so yeah I think that they'll be able to handle being trapped outside of humanity's world they have an eternity to get used to it, one can assume

you said it yourself, people in real life are kind of obsessed with finding meaning, or just have some sort of comfort in the idea that they should their lives have a greater purpose or worth if that makes sense. so, having that being taken away for you, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that your whole life is fake, that there is no greater purpose to strive for, would be a hell of a realisation. and i think it would take a toll on all of the girls.

but i do agree that eventually they would learn to be content with what they have. the road towards that acceptance is gonna be a long one, and as u said urself they do have all of eternity to figure it out

[lains-reality]

hello, i'm fairly new to nondualism and there is sort of some information overload going on. i'm open to nondualism, however there are some doubts and fears too, which i'm aware i should try to overcome. i'd like to ask a few questions though it is up to you to answer them, these mentions a bit of derealization and depersonalization so if these are an uncomfortable topic for you to discuss, you are free to ignore this.

1. how does one practice nondualism without falling into derealization and depersonalization? an issue i have is that i am prone to this (even at the most random times, it may happen), and i'm afraid that it'll make it worse for me.

2. how does one practice nondualism while still being able to connect with the world and still being able to immerse in it (instead of being detached or having a blurry mind when interacting with the world)? taking in concepts from nondualism, but still retaining or being able to keep sanity.

3. how does one practice nondualism while still retaining their sense of self? there's this thing going around saying "you shouldn't identify with the body for it is what limits you" or "remove all labels that you've associated with yourself and go with what is left" and it's a bit confusing for me, especially as someone who again is very prone to a blurry sense of self and have once experienced being nothing and identifying as nothing, but it took a toll on mental health and anything that affects the mental health may in turn affect the body negatively (i see it as a vessel of some sort that needs to be taken care of too)

again, it is up to you to answer this. thank you for your time! ‹3 i apologize if these were a bit personal. anyway, i'll be reading more of your blogs. :]

heres a post on derealisation by another blog. i also have a post of it on my q and a

"instead of being detached or having a blurry mind when interacting with the world" why do you think you'll be blurry or negatively detached?

when you have no burdens, nothing to think about now or in the future, what do you feel? when theres no problems or fears to attend to? you feel blurry? or more alive?

I am now 74 years old. And yet I feel that I am an infant. I feel clearly that in spite of all the changes I am a child. My Guru told me; that child, which is you even now, is your real self. Go back to that state of pure being, where the "I am" is still in its purity before it got contaminated with "this I am" or "that I am." Your burden is of false self-identifications—abandon them all. My Guru told me—"Trust me. I tell you; you are divine. Take it as the absolute truth. Your joy is divine, your suffering is divine too. All comes from God. Remember it always. You are God, your will alone is done." I did believe him and soon realized how wonderfully true and accurate were his words. I did not condition my mind by thinking: "I am God, I am wonderful, I am beyond." I simply followed his instruction, which was to focus the mind on pure being "I am," and stay in it. I used to sit for hours together, with nothing but the "I am" in my mind and soon peace and joy and a deep allembracing love became my normal state. In it all disappeared—myself, my Guru, the life lived, the world around me. Only peace remained and unfathomable silence. - nisargadatta

"how does one practice nondualism while still retaining their sense of self?" there is no self. the sense of self you're talking about is just thoughts and emotions, not your Being

the feeling of "I" is always going to exist, its just that this "I" is not the feelings and thoughts that you think is you/yours

here's a post by 4dbarbie, heres another

[kraaico]

Where/how do you get the ideas to make these super cute art? I love art but I basically copy others and I wanna have my own style.

What a nice question!! I could honestly write a book about this, but for now I'll keep it condensed. (maybe uhhhh a blog post later or smthn) ....Sorry it's long anyway lol

These are my thoughts as an independent illustrator/artist that has the time and freedom to create what I wish, keep that in mind. I can't vouch for what it takes to get through art school or build a portfolio for <specific thing X> cause I don't know shit about that, this is just for creating art that you love making.

✨️Developing a style ✨️

A lot of people talk about 'finding your style', but I'm personally an advocate of developing a style - and most importantly it being a process that never stops. Now I don't know how old/experienced you are, but especially when you are just getting into art (and with 'just' I mean years) it'll change a lot because you will be improving a lot!

Now for me personally, I've been busy ~finding a style~ since I was 10. And up to like 2 years ago (I'm now 28) I was frustrated I just wasn't able to find one. Every half year or so I'd try to get back into art "for real this time", stick to one medium and general style and/or subject, and within a matter of weeks become frustrated and then not draw for a good while. That style-mentality really took a toll on the fun I had in making art, but also stunted my own artistic development. I was restricting myself at a stage where I should be everything BUT. I told myself I wasn't good enough, not cut out to be a professional, wouldn't be able to sell myself if I couldn't stick to one thing, yada yada. Great mentality. I'm now in therapy!

Anyway, what broke me free of that was a promise I made to myself back in 2020. I told myself I would get back into making art, but this time, just do what feels fun *at any given moment*. Let go of the pressure. I didn't post to socials and just shared with my friends, and eventually started posting to my then very humble Twitter following. I liked Twitter, cause there wasn't the pressure that Instagram always gave me of having to have a perfect feed. So I drew digitally, I drew with pencils, did some painting, got oil pastels, tried collage. And those experiments all influenced one or another. That's been key for me. If I feel like I hit a creative wall, I just try another medium or another CSP brush or another app on my tablet. Just experiment with lines and colors and not worry about what ends up there. (it's usually cats) Creating like this kept the fun in it for me and I've created nearly every single day since then, and that too is key to style development: Create A LOT. Don't hyperfocus on one perfect piece when you can also create 4 good-enough pieces in the same time.

Now on the topic of copying: it's a natural thing to do. Just be responsible about it! (don't share on socials if you blatantly copy something. While it's a good method to learn certain techniques, it's something that should stay in your private sketchbook) Also be sure to study from many different places, don't fixate on just a couple of artists! Find what inspires you in real life: be it buildings or nature or animals or people or objects, and try to capture them in different ways: from realistic to just the basic shapes. You'll find out what kind of style and level of detail you're naturally drawn to soon enough. Creating your own visual library in your mind by drawing many different things is ultimately what will allow you to put your ideas to paper in a quick and intuitive way. Having a (cheap!) sketchbook that you don't show anyone but just goof around in and explore everything and anything is a very helpful tool.

✨️ Generating ideas ✨️

I get my ideas from SO many different places. Many of my cat paintings were actually created to deal with a strong emotion or feeling I was having at the time.

Now externally, I get a lot of inspiration from nature and from the place I live in. I used to live in a fairly urbanized area, but it wasn't until I moved to the country side with wide and far views that I saw daily that I started getting interested in drawing landscapes. I didn't draw a lot of cats until they were chilling in my garden everyday. When I lived at home I drew a lot of fish, cause my dad had an aquarium. What you see and observe everyday matters. Taking your camera or phone on a walk in the neighborhood and capturing small details is a great way to gather inspiration, even if the area is a bit boring. I have a Fujifilm X100F that I try to carry to most places I go, cause I can quickly photograph things and I like it better than phone photography.

I also draw a lot of ideas from the media I consume: shows, movies, games, comics, music... Sometimes it just hits that inspiration button and lights a lil flame that'll turn into an idea. I love the magical worlds Studio Ghibli creates for example and the soothing calmness that games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley have. Things like that just work their way into my art, often subconsiously.

I also draw what I yearn for: be it a doodle of a comforting hot bowl of soup when I crave it, or a beach scene cause I want to go for a beach walk. It's fun, and lets me daydream a little about things I maybe cannot have in that moment.

Another big thing is worldbuilding and storytelling: I have this fictional world in my mind that I desperately want to get out, and it will, piece by piece.

So yeah. There's many places to grab inspiration from. Writing down what inspired you is useful. Doing it every year or so is too, cause then you'll start to see trends and get a better understanding of what drives you. Cause in the end that's what's most important, I think: Find the things that ignite a flame in you and then let it out in a way that is fun and comforting to you. Don't worry about what other people are making or that you're not making what you 'should' make!

I hope this was somewhat helpful - it was fun to write at least, I have many thoughts about this :')

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

I don't know if your still doing match ups but, if you are, I would like a match up for my character, any gender, and I'm fine with both npcs and compainion

Their name is Rhiannon they're a Mephistopheles Tiefling bard, that go by any pronoun.

They love animals, the arts, mythology, spicy food, getting praised, and giving the personal middle finger to those who cause problems for the little guys (Aka causing problems, like 'oh you want to use the bathroom, have fun with no toilet paper kind of problems). There is a chance if pushed far enough, like really far, like you just murder a group of babies, that she will go 'they will want death, but I won't give it to them, because it's too good for them.'

Is mostly okay with murder, with idea that 'Killing people is okay if they tried to kill you first' but won't kill animals or children because soft spots and raised with morals. He will listen to both sides of the story but will try to be unbiased.

She has a human father, unknown Tiefling mother, and human half-sister.

I always picture him with blue skin, small baby cow sized black horns, and white hair, rather light.

Hates the dark or not being able to see, has abandonment issues, and not sure what they want in life.

Most of all a silly little guy that loves music and needs to feel loved.

A/N: Hello Anon! I could have sworn, I’ve read about a Tav named Rhiannon before… I think from other writers? I looked to see if I could find the post because I wondered who they paired you with, but I didn’t come across it again. Oh well. As for your Rhiannon, in MY personal opinion, I think they’d best be matched with… either Karlach (Female) or Dammon (Male)!

Karlach would be a great match for Rhiannon as she is so optimistic and verbal in her love and appreciation for the people and the world around her. Karlach, despite all she’s endured, is still very open and trusting when it comes to her emotions.

As a fellow tiefling, Karlach understands a good bit about tiefling biology and culture. She most definitely experienced discrimination while she was working under Gortash in Baldur’s Gate. She’s also fiercely protective of the ones she loves, so if anyone comes for Rhiannon because they’re a tiefling, they better watch out- barbarian girlfriend on the defense!

Based on Karlach’s reactions to Scratch and the Owlbear cub, it’s safe to say that she enjoys animals as well. She’d be up for raising a pet together, whichever pet Rhiannon would prefer. She also appreciates the arts, even if she’s not the most knowledgeable about them. Karlach would need Rhiannon to explain the art form/technique being utilized. And spicy food? Oh boy! Spicy food is Karlach’s middle name. Even though she’ll eat just about anything (and I mean anything), spicy food is her favorite. She also gives loads of praise, so good thing Rhiannon loves being praised, otherwise, he might get embarrassed by Karlach’s constant compliments and encouragement.

Karlach is also fairly level-headed, with a similar protective side. Together she and Rhiannon make up for a pretty solid moral compass, and everyone respects them as such. With Karlach bringing the strength, and Rhiannon bringing the music, they’re the perfect yin-yang couple!

Dammon would also be a pretty good match (at least in my opinion). He’s kindhearted and soft-spoken and not one prone to violence. He’s a craftsman, not a fighter, like Rhiannon, so he understands the nature of their expertise, often being underestimated.

Obviously, as another tiefling himself, Dammon appreciates the fact that Rhiannon can relate to the discrimination and hardships he’s been through. Being a refugee from Elteral has definitely taken its toll on Dammon and a cheery and silly little music loving guy is exactly the kind of partner he needs to bring joy back into his life.

Dammon having a more orange complexion looks really well when standing next to Rhiannon with her blue complexion- their appearance and personal outfit styles compliment one another really well.

Overall a life shared with Dammon would be much more quiet, and wholesome, as opposed to a life of fighting and adventuring with Karlach, but if a nice quiet life to just play music is what Rhiannon is looking for, Dammon would be the best choice for him.

I hope you enjoyed!

And please, don't forget to Like, but most importantly, REBLOG my work if you liked it!

Also, consider Tipping Me Via Kofi <3

[dappersheep]

Hello! I don’t have an idea if this question bothers or maybe even triggers you, but if it is, feel free to ignore my message.

I’ve always been interested in mental disorders. It goes without saying that this topic is very relevant nowadays. So…

What do you think about mental disorders in the world of Food Fantasy? I mean, if I’m not mistaken, Tteokguk has a confirmed PTSD, according to his story. Is there a possibility that the other Food Souls may have any mental disorder? Do you have someone on your mind that can have a mental disorder? Of course only in terms of pure speculations, but still. We can even talk about Pasta Splatoon, why not?

Hello, the topic itself doesn't bother me so it's all good. This could get long so the rest of the answer is under the cut.

Since you're asking my opinion, mental disorders of course exist on Tierra. It's just that we have to note two things approaching this: 1) Mental disorders will not always be explicitly stated, mostly implied. A show-not-tell kind of narrative. And 2) Not all Food Souls will be able to understand the concept of a mental disorder. Most would likely prefer not to pay attention to it as just because they're human-like, doesn't mean they understand human workings. Some may even think such a thing is below them, as they're not humans and do not feel things the way humans do.

While I'm not familiar with Tteokguk's case beyond knowing he participated heavily in a war that took a toll on him, I am more familiar with others. So I can give you an example in Borscht. While she may not look it, some of her voice lines and her bio allude to her having PTSD from being hunted down in the snow, being in an environment that's too quiet, certain kinds of birds and of course, Vodka. In chapter 3 of her bio, she had a flashback that triggered that PTSD but she recovered quickly enough. I'm sure that Spaghetti did notice it, but he didn't want to coddle her, neither of them would know how to handle that and the best he could do is to cut short their business talk and let her rest for the night. For the most part, she has it under control and it doesn't affect her day-to-day affairs. The forever missing Skin Story event we never got could even offer some closure to some of the things that haunted her, then she was finally able to move on from those ghosts (no it has nothing to do with Vodka).

There's also Oyster. Mm, as far as I see, he's a classic case of neglect and abuse. This of course, stemming from the villagers and his Master Attendant, who all saw him as an omen onto their homes despite saving them from Fallen Angels. He has an aversion to being touched, trust issues and uses annoyance and anger as a defense mechanism. Spaghetti saw the signs and respected Oyster's demand that he didn't enter his space, didn't touch him but gave Oyster the choice to leave that place that has nothing good for him. He had Oyster spend more time with Borscht who let him get used to light errands that slowly socialized him with humans, and then herself and Spaghetti as the Food Soul interactions. So in a way, these two gave him a place to heal and feel some sense of normalcy, even if it's not loudly stated. And Oyster is grateful that these two gave him that chance.

Spaghetti himself is… I can't really say that he has any mental disorders. Melancholy, emotional baggage, emotional constipation and extreme spite for a certain subset of people, sure, but not any disorder. The rest of Desire Tavern doesn't quite fit mental disorders as much either. I'd put it this way: Just because they had experienced something bad in the past doesn't automatically translate to developing a visceral reaction to anything that reminds them of that bad thing, or developing a mental problem. I'd mostly chalk up their responses to range from, 'Oh she's plotting to beat you up' to 'She's not going to react at all to that'.

For other mental disorders… I'd say Souffle has a form of Dissociative disorder, kind of obvious with the existence of Dark Souffle and Souffle being unable to remember much of what happened while the other was in control.

Also Kaiserschmarrn and Whiskey definitely fall into the category of Psychopaths, textbook classics in varying degrees. As seen in the final chapters of Kaiser's event, he's made his ultimate goal very clear to everyone and is not above manipulation, threats and collateral damage to make things go his way. Even his own short introduction text states that while loyalty and safety of his companions is important, that's not the most important things on his mind.

And Whiskey… is Whiskey. We're all aware of his body count and shenanigans all across Tierra.

As for autism… off the top of my head, I don't know if B-52 particularly fits the bill for that because in the first place, he thinks he's a machine and not a Food Soul, and has thought that way for a very, very long time that it becomes a hard conditioning to get rid of. He's started to learn to be less 'mechanical' from the few cameos I've seen of him, but he's still stilted and not very good in communicating what he wants to say or the attention he gets. Again, I don't know if that fits the medical definition of autism but everyone's free to headcanon.

That's as much as I got for you. Feel free to respond again if I didn't really answer your question.

[waterfallswords]

Name: Tyr 'Ty' Cross

Age & Birthday: 22 years old, January 3rd 2000

Gender/Pronouns: cis man he/him

Birthplace: Atlanta, Georgia

Time in Hollow Cove: 3 years

Species: Werewolf - Cross Pack

Role: Runner

Positive personality traits: Energetic, Compassionate, Attentive

Negative personality traits: Impulsive, Emotional, Scrappy

Faceclaim: Rudy Pankow loml

ABOUT:

Son to Rhea and Wolf, Tyr noticed from a young age that his soul didn't really fit in a pack like the Crosses. He is ever grateful for both his mother and father being such loving parents, otherwise he thinks he would have crumbled from the overwhelming violence they lived within. Tyr had no choice but to adapt to his environment, but instead of becoming a stoic strength he became an emotional one.

The years of training to fight, going head to head against other wolves took it's toll on him and didn't do a thing to shrink his big heart. All Jeffrey managed to teach Tyr to do was conceal it enough to get by. As a result Tyr has so many emotions that he never knows what to do with. He's a jovial energy most times but prone to passionate outbursts, impulsive behavior and just like his family, he's scrappy and always ready to go.

The shared trauma of the Crosses is one thing that bonds them so closely, and Tyr would do anything for his two sisters. While the brutal loss of Josie was experienced by all of them, Tyr knows that Allie suffers from it the most. If anything, his self control is much better when he's looking out for her. He knows between the two of them, he's able to balance himself far more than Allie can. Luna and Tyr ground one another too, and she is the voice of reason that even Tyr can't muster at times. Together, they could be a powerful trio of siblings if only they knew what to do with all the pain.

Tyr claims that ironically his life didn't have much of a purpose until they arrived in Hollow Cove. Before the war, he was struggling aimlessly in a pack that he truthfully feared. He didn't perform well in school, he was the jokester and fighter that caused more trouble than good. But in 2020, he was forced to mature and he did so willingly. The previous three years have tested him greatly and he likes to think he has thrived under the new pressure of the world. He's become a Runner in the recent year, mostly with his uncles, as Tyr always performs best when he's with his own. Around the town, he never seems to stop either. He's always helping, or at the very least, trying to. He believes things only get worse if you stop, because then the dread sets in. He pushes on and on, seemingly tireless but exhausted. He ignores all attempts at getting him to pause, facing a serious burn out if he doesn't learn to listen to them any time soon.

[callu-na]

tarot reading for anonymous

Hello! My name is M♊️, my favorite color is blue. I love video games and I sing well. The reading can be public, 4 card spread, universal tarot please! My question is: Where will my connection with my friend A♒️ end up? We used to like each other, but she experienced a loss that caused us to not pursue a relationship anymore. I still have feelings for her, but I’m unsure if it’s mutual. Idk whether this connection will remain platonic or turn romantic so I want clarity about this. Thank you!

1.   Your feelings – Seven of Cups [U]

In matters of love, the upright seven of cups is all about caution in romantic decisions. You have several options before you (pursuing A or not pursuing A) and both options may look tempting right now. One of them is an illusion. You must take time to consider these choices carefully and not rush into anything. Make sure to trust your instincts and listen to any gut feeling you have that something may be wrong.

 2.   A’s feelings – Two of Pentacles [U]

Right now, A is adapting to changes in love. You said that A suffered a loss, and it seems that they are still dealing with that loss at the current moment. A has other responsibilities to take care of right now, and it seems that love is the last thing on their mind. Everything they’re handling is a balancing act, and it’s important that they really take time to consider if it’s the right time for love. They may not be prioritizing relationships at the current moment.

 3.   Affect on relationship – Eight of Pentacles [U]

Upright this card indicates the developing of a relationship. Loving someone requires increasing amounts of empathy, compassion, and most importantly, patience. It is important to be happy in what you’ve accomplished with A and cherish the times you do spend together. You must learn to appreciate what you have and learn to love and appreciate new sides that you may see to them in different situations.

 4.   Underlying question – The Empress [R]

The underlying question here is about the lack of progress in love, or perhaps even a touch of clinginess. There may be someone who is demanding too much of another lover, or someone who isn’t able to express their feelings at all right now. In this case, I think you may be wanting more of A than they can give, and A may not be able to express their feelings to you at the current time due to their emotional needs right now. This card is also encouragement to spend quality time together and care for each other. It will bring the two of you closer, without too much demand from either of you.

Interpretation

What I would take away from this reading is that A may require more time before they can even consider making the relationship anything more than platonic. A suffered a loss, and is dealing with an emotional toll right now. A may not want to take on anything more at the current time. However, it seems that you two are very close, and that being there for one another is important during this time. There is some hope that you two will become closer in this struggle.

Originally posted on @callu-na on July 3, 2020

[emergingmediaculture]

Graphic created by Kiersten W. on Canva.

Readings: Assessing vulnerability to psychological distress during the COVID-19 pandemic through the analysis of microblogging content by Marco Viviani, Cristina Crocamo, Matteo Mazzola, Francesco Bartoli, Giuseppe Carrà, and Gabriella Pasi

“Teachers Act Like We’re Robots”: TikTok as a Window Into Youth Experiences of Online Learning During COVID-19 by Ioana Literat

From archive cultures to ephemeral content, and back: Studying Instagram Stories with digital methods by Lucia Bainotti, Alessandro Caliandro, and Alessandro Gandini

It is safe and accurate to say the COVID-19 pandemic upended most people's lives. The drastic and sudden halt of just about every facet of our lives was something the majority of us have ever experienced in our lifetime. The sudden rise of the work-from-home industry was just one of the many effects of the pandemic. The traditional nine-five in an office no longer seemed as appealing. Society's outlook on work changed and there has since been research on those changes that COVID-19 has had on the careers of individuals and the effect it has had on workers in general. One demographic, however, that has been somewhat overlooked in this area and requires more research is that of the student experience.

I graduated high school in 2013 and then graduated college in 2017. My entire school career up until I began grad school in 2021 has been a somewhat traditional experience. I participated in extracurriculars, went to class in actual classrooms, and was able to attend all the milestone school events that kids look forward to like homecoming, prom, and graduation.

Then I think of the kids who were in school in March 2020 whose entire school experience changed in the blink of an eye. Going from traditional classrooms to online learning, enjoying the social experience of high school to then only being able to chat with friends through your smartphones or social media, having events canceled, and graduating from the comfort (or probably discomfort) of your living room.

From taking online classes in college by choice, I remember always preferring traditional classes because I felt I couldn't learn as much in an online class. I almost felt like I was teaching myself a lot of the time. According to the above research, I am not the only one who shares that negative sentiment towards online learning. Social media sites such as TikTok and Twitter, which played a major role in the documentation of COVID-19 pandemic times, show the significant emotional toll that the shift to online education has taken on students. This not only has to do with the workload, but also with the lack of social interaction from being at home, and even factors that were not thought of when kids were at school such as socioeconomic ones. Furthermore, all these factors along with the use of social media can contribute to the psychological distress that students may suffer from in response to the pandemic.

Social media's role in daily life is ever-growing just as the platforms are. These sites provide a multitude of things ranging from simple peer-to-peer interaction, something that was severely missing during the pandemic, and even ephemerality in the form of Instagram stories.

We know that the internet is forever and once something is on there it is never fully gone, but there's something about the noncommittal act of posting an Instagram story that only lasts for 24 hours that is so intriguing. The temptation lies somewhere between "I want to post this" and "I don't want to make an entire post for it" which makes Instagram stories and Snapchat so useful. With anything that good, though, you are bound to run into some issues. For one, I only recently found out that Instagram stories are not very accessible. Things like screen readers for the visually impaired do not work for stories. For those who are visually impaired, they have said stories are almost impossible to navigate. Once again, accessibility takes a back burner to convenience. In the time we are in with the technology we have, you would think that wouldn't be the case. As we have learned from the COVID-19 pandemic, however, there is a lot we still are learning about our media.

[wehavefoundthestars]

"It's not exactly the same is it?" Elio says despite knowing it would probably come off as insensitive, but keeping this to himself for so long has taken its toll on him and it feels like he's a volcano ready to explode with the amount of emotions he is experiencing. "You can manage yours, you can even get better but I'll never be able to do that. There is no solution for this." He's still crying like an idiot and he can't believe Alex is being this sweet. His boyfriend being so kind and understanding made all of this only more complicated. Especially because he didn't deserve it after keeping this a secret.

"Don't you see that you already have support and how could I possibly be of any kind of use to you? I wouldn't be able to help you with anything." Despite everything, he basically collapses against Alex and he knows shouldn't rely on him. Should let him go and live his life without the burden of him but it's nearly impossible to let someone you love go, let alone someone who says all the right things.

"Are you seriously apologizing to me right now? God stop being so damn perfect Alex or I might just have to punch you." He mutters while trying to dry his tears. "Before you make any promises can you at least think about it? For real? How things would be like?"

"Sweetheart," Alex says softly, "I have severe anxiety and ADHD, and if my own disability won't keep me from doing the things I want, then YOURS won't either." He shakes his head and leans in to press another kiss to the other man's lips. "And you're not asking me to stay, I am CHOOSING to, and I get it, okay? You don't want to feel like a burden, but the truth is: that's the point of a relationship, being able to rely on the other person, to get support when you need it, and trust me: I'll need a whole lot of it when I'm going to law school," he brushes their noses together. "I know this SUCKS, and I'm sorry I didn't notice anything earlier, but I want you to know I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

[melias-cimitiere]

Simple things to boost your magick

Magick is a complex thing, involving many different parameters and unless you know how to apply them properly, the results are not going to be any different to make-believe, or at best, placebo. Let’s review some simple things one can do in order to get better results. 1. PHYSICAL It is perhaps self-evident that you need to have some space in order to do that. By space I don’t mean that a fully-equipped ritual room is necessary; you can do magick even without an altar in a closet, but what you *must* have is “room for yourself”, a place to be undisturbed. You may lack your own room or house, you may be renting or staying at friends’ or at a university dorm – this is not a problem if you can manage some time for yourself. Sit alone, and be aware of yourself; your thoughts, your mental patterns, your emotions as you slowly breathe, and try to relax. Progressively relax your body (either start from the head downwards, bit by bit, or start from the feet upwards – different ways for relaxation, but they work). Allow time to do this; at least twenty to thirty minutes (unless you are very experienced and can relax at will within a few minutes). Observe what is going on, without doing anything; try to allow the torrent of thoughts to flow through you, without holding on to something specifically. Do the same for your emotions; worries, fears, stress, simply let it flow and vanish, without examining anything, as you breathe deeply and you relax your body. Realize that you are more than your thoughts, more than your emotions, more than your body. Your systems may have been disturbed by the rush of everyday life, but now you are at peace. You enter a deeper state of mind as you physically relax your body, and this is good. It’s the doorstep to all the good things with regards to improving your life, because through this, you have achieved in lowering your brain wave activity, and this makes your brain more open to positive suggestions. Remember, do not stress in trying to achieve it; simply allow it to happen, as you keep breathing and close your eyes. You don’t have to “see” anything at this stage. Physical control of this simple relaxation is very important – you’ll thank yourself years later. If you feel okay with it, try to do some positive affirmations about yourself, like: “I am getting better and better at this / every time I enter this level, my negative thoughts and emotions will dissolve, I will be in control and my mood will improve” (feel free to write your own positive suggestions). If you are able to practice this technique at least once daily (allow for about 20 minutes), after a couple of months you will have noticeable results in yourself and a level of clarity that might surprise you. Taking care of your body’s needs is also very important, and is often overlooked. Disturbed sleep patterns, exhaustion, taking substances or getting drunk often, neglecting physical training or being idle every day for many hours will do more damage than you think. Whether you love your body or you view it as a machine or as a burden, it’s something that has value, without which you cannot perform many of the tasks that constitute a physical life, and may even affect your grounding. If you have had bad habits for many years, you will know how detrimental they can be. Self-care is important, and not only when life takes a toll on you. You won’t be able to manage traumas, or even simple stressful situations if you don’t learn to care for yourself and neglect the most basic needs. 2. EMOTIONAL Your emotions can fuel your magick, or they can make it dissipate into random energies – the difference is control. Learn to master your emotions when you wish to do magick. You set up the area (or yourself) to begin? Then it’s not time for doubts, feelings of insecurity/inferiority and other self-defeating things. Prime yourself with the idea that since you need this to work, you will succeed. Isolate the negative thoughts, and focus on the emotions that are essential for your magick to work. Why do you want to do this magickal work? What do you hope to achieve? Magick works on Need, and Need is fueled by emotions, the right kind of emotions. Believe in yourself when you do this, because if you doubt each step of the way, the emotional power will be weak and it will impact on your spells. Some people believe that you can do spells without the involvement of emotions. Some have even been affected by the Jedi teachings from movies, or even misreading some Zen/Buddhist texts – emotions are NOT your enemy! You can be passionate about the right sort, and invest them in your magick. Even in Taoist principles, there’s a Balance – this doesn’t mean neutralizing the emotions! Fill yourself with the certitude of your Need, and when crafting your spell, fuel it with your emotions in a passionate way. Do it all the way, and it will be much stronger. 3. MENTAL Focus through controlled visualization; start small. Take an object, a geometrical thing like a cube, and visualize it, with eyes closed. Watch it in your mind’s eye, and see it spinning. Now try to hold it still. You will find this very difficult at first, because the image might “jump around”; relax your body and your mind, and keep trying. Eventually you will be able to keep it still for a few moments – then you can do it for longer. You will even be able to make it turn in any direction you want, slow or fast. The purpose of this is to be able to control the visualized object, because this trains your focus. Now try with another object; eventually, try with symbols of your choosing. Later, use landscapes or something that matters to you, perhaps a deity or a statue or an altar. When you are confident about this practice, your mind will become much sharper in its focus, and spellwork will be easier. If you find your attention challenged through ADHD or other issues, it may be hard for you to remain focused for a prolonged time. So add a filter of background music like ambient (I personally use dark ambient a lot, but selective tracks), or something else that allows your mind’s excess energy to be diverted and also being able to do this without too much distraction. The use of Language in spells is another way that opens up great possibilities for your magickal practice. There are several arguments online and in books, each supporting their own perspective; the traditionalist says, use spells in archaic, latin, or other ancient language. The modernist says, use them in your native tongue, but perhaps weave them in verses, like in a poem (you can see some pagan and Wiccan stuff like this). Others promote the use of “barbarous words” that may not make much sense, but impress the mind and thus, with the right intention, unlock its power. I will tell you the basic principle here and you decide for yourselves. Whatever you use, it should be *different* than what you would use in your mundane life. Because the mind needs to notice the difference, that when you do your spells, it should switch to another modality – to be aware of it. Simply because these words/intonation/language is not common, it implies purpose. It tells the brain you are speaking Purposefully and your Willpower is behind these words. If you do that each time you Speak magickally, your practice will greatly benefit from it. 4. PROCEDURAL Routines build discipline; this is a golden rule, and you should remember it. No matter what you may read from various places, there’s no substitute for a magickally disciplined mind. You may believe that it’s an exaggeration, and that you can do magick just fine. Sure you can do it, but what if you could do the same thing *better*? Or what if your potential is greater than what you think it is? Could it be possible to maximize your results? You’ll never know if you don’t train yourself and simply resort to a “lazy”, more laidback approach. Set up your own routines; do certain things each day, or each week. Set up some days in the year that are special for your practice (one example is the pagan holidays, or the Moons, and so on). Have regular times when you meditate, or when you cleanse yourself. It works just like training muscles or doing a fitness program: your spiritual self is strengthened and you acquire discipline, which fuels your willpower – an indispensable tool for all types of magick. 

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

Newsflash: Dazai cares for Chuuya

Before reading any further, I will be talking about stormbringer, so spoilers ahead!! Translation credits go out to: @popopretty on tumblr, make sure to give this kind human some love and appreciation<3

Also if you want to read the first few chapters of stormbringer: @buraihatranslations is currently translating it, give them much love and appreciation as well, they deserve it!!

Honestly, I have been so obsessed with Soukoku lately and I think the reason behind this is because when it comes to Soukoku, their feelings for each other are not as easy to grasp as love or hate, it is much more profound than that. There is care, hurt, trust, resentment, companionship, bitterness, and consideration...And ironically enough, thats just the tip of the iceberg.

If we break down their individual feelings towards each other, it will be easier to understand their bond.

On Chuuya's end, his feelings are much more clear due to his expressive personality. He wears his emotions on his sleeves, he can try and hide what he feels towards Dazai but his true feelings tend to unravel easily.

He sometimes tries to mask his feelings towards Dazai by throwing insults, but his facial expressions are enough to contradict what he is saying.

Chuuya's feelings towards Dazai can be easier to comprehend. He obviously feels this certain betrayal due to the fact Dazai left the Port Mafia. Not to mention, he and Dazai have always had a rivalry relationship.

In the Soukoku wiki page, it is stated that Chuuya is aware of Dazai not experiencing a proper childhood, therefore allows him to act as childish as he can and lets him tease him relentlessly. I don't know how reliable this source is, but either way I think its worthy enough to add.

In the Dragon head conflict when Dazai was out of sight, Chuuya told Mori to forget about Dazai. That was until Hirotsu mentioned a microscope, Chuuya quickly realizes it was code language because he remembered a previous conversation where Dazai says he needs a microscope to be able to see Chuuya properly.

The moment he figured out it was a tracker, Chuuya did not hesitate to jump in and rescue Dazai. But here is the catch: No one but Chuuya knew about the microscope, if Chuuya really didn't care for Dazai he wouldn't have mentioned the microscope and kept all this under wraps, leaving Dazai in a mess.

Chuuya trusts Dazai with his life. He never hesitates to leave his life on Dazai's hands when it has to come to it. Chuuya and Dazai have known each other for years, for Chuuya to be able to trust Dazai that much is because Dazai also cares for him too, right?

The answer here is yes, Dazai cares for Chuuya. In a superficial level, it doesn't seem like Dazai truly cares, but I can assure you that he does care for him. Weather you like to think of his care in a platonic or romantic manner, the care Dazai has for Chuuya is undeniable and extremely significant for Dazai's character.

I think that stormbringer establishes this idea even further. There is one specific moment in this light novel that shows his genuine concern towards Chuuya's well being:

"There is one problem." Dazai cut off his sentence hesitantly. "It has nothing to do with the sucess rate of the plan. It is a matter we have to overcome in the end but... It may require some time to decide."

"What's with you?" Chuuya raised his eyebrows at Dazai. "Stop dramatizing it. Just hurry up and say it."

"I said earlier about this control spell to open the 'gate' that is used to reset the command inside Chuuya, right?" Dazai spoke with a strangely restrained voice. "If we use that, the logs of the command formula that were written in the past will be erased. That means...even if the memory erasure was used on Chuuya in the past, the traces of that will be erased as well."

"What?"

"I told you before right, the memory erasure command. The only way we can confirm if Chuuya is human or not is to check the history to see if the memory erasure command was ever used. It means..." Dazai looked at Chuuya with eyes that he had never looked at him before. Those eyes were serious. "If we use that control spell, the method to confirm if Chuuya is an artificial personality created by a string of code, or just a normal human being, will be lost. For good."

The time had stopped.

Chuuya opened his eyes and looked towards Dazai but his eyes were not seeing anything. The wind blew between the two of them. Even so, Chuuya did not blink.

"Verlaine became like that because he was tormented by the curse that he was not human. That only is enough of a big problem. The matter of being human or not." Dazai looked at his pocket watch, gave it a glance and continued. "I can delay the time until the plan starts for about two minutes. I will send an order for my men to wait... You can think about it alone for a while. Cuz I guess its hard for you to collect your thoughts with me around."

Having said so, Dazai turned away and walked down the stairs, leaving Chuuya alone.

Dazai fixated in his pocket watch. Two more minutes. Too short for a life decision. But he couldn't afford more than that.

Inside Dazai's head, he was planning a procedure to swith to an alternative plan in case Chuuya refused, at a tremendous speed.

This section in stormbringer is personally one of my favorites, this is a very rare moment between both of them, but especially for Dazai. Like I stated earlier Chuuya wears his emotions on his sleeves, therefore even if he tries to mask his care with insults, its still painfully noticable that he genuienly looks after Dazai. Chuuya also sometimes show a vulnerable side of himself to Dazai, especially after using corruption.

Dazai on the other hand is extremely unreadable. Its hard to understand his true intentions and if he really cares for people or only sees them as a pawn. In this moment though, Dazai was being painfully genuine. Dazai literally prioritized Chuuya over the mission. He was already thinking of coming up with an alternative plan just in case Chuuya refused, obviously the sucess rate of the alternative plan would be lesser than the actual plan Dazai had in mind, he choose Chuuya's wellbeing over a mission.

In this section, Dazai wasn't throwing jokes or witty remarks, he was being serious. Because Dazai knows how desperately Chuuya wants to be human. He knows how important being human is to Chuuya.

Dazai wasn't manipulating Chuuya by giving him the chance to decide, we can see that Dazai was literally showing a lot of hesitation when mentioning this to him, we also get to see what Dazai was thinking, and we can tell he wasn't thinking about manipulative his movements in any way. All of this wasn't coming out of manipulation, it was coming out of pure care.

After six steps, Dazai reached the stair. He stepped on the stair and started walking down. Three steps down the stair, he heard a *clang*, a cool sound of metal echoing behind him. It sounded like the metal was kicked by the sole of someones shoes. The moment Dazai realized what the sound was, Dazai turned around in surprise.

There was already no one at the top.

Dazai was dazed for a moment, then he loosened his lips and laughed.

"Trying to act cool, huh?" Dazai smiled, both annoyed and relieved. Then he turned on his radio and sent out his order. "Chuuya has sallied, everyone get ready for battle."

I personally love this part so much, relief washed over Dazai the moment he noticed that Chuuya was going to go through with the first plan, which proves my point that he wasn't manipulating him and how Dazai was under a lot of stress because he wasn't sure if the alternative plan would be as effective as his original one.

Yet he still was willing to go through the alternative plan if Chuuya refused, because Dazai values him and regards his wellbeing.

Dazai was being surprisingly gentle in this section, he was being honest. There was no ulterior motive behind his actions here, just a boy looking after his partner.

"So i'm going to send an order to my men to prepare for action... Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay." Chuuya turned to Dazai. "Why are you asking me such a thing?"

Dazai didn't answer right away.

That was an unusual expression. It's like he was trying to say something, but he had to arrange the words in his head to decide where he should start. An expression he rarely shows.

This was right before Dazai drops the bomb to Chuuya about the memory erasure command. He was even asking for Chuuya's opinion on sending his men to get ready, this was the first time Dazai ever showed actual concern without masking it with witty remarks. You can tell that Chuuya isn't used to this.

And when you think about it, when Dazai and Chuuya have missions together, Dazai always uses corruption as a last resort and he always allows Chuuya to make the decision if they will be using it or not.

I personally belive that the main reason Chuuya trusts Dazai with using corruption is because The Sheep used to exploit his powers too much, but Dazai leaves the decision to use corruption up to Chuuya. Dazai understands the physical and mental toll corruption takes on Chuuya and therefore leaves the choice up to him.

Theres another section in stormbringer that I really enjoy, it doesn't necessairly show solicitude but I still think this should still be taken into consideration:

"You seem pretty confident that Chuuya is human, don't you?"

"I am," Dazai laughed with a sigh. "There is no way a man-made code could create such a personality that I detest so much."

Throughout the whole story, Dazai is more than determined that Chuuya is human. The main reason Dazai finds Chuuya so intresting is because of how frighteningly human Chuuya can be, because of the fact that he always wears his emotions on his sleeves, something Dazai rarely does himself. Thats personally a nice sentiment from Dazai's end, even when Chuuya struggles completely when it comes to believing in his own humanity, Dazai still can't help but see him as a human being.

Also I am aware that Dazai literally said he detests Chuuya here but he also sighed and laughed while stating this, showing us that he isn't being serious about hating him.

And its not only in stormbringer were he shows his concern towards Chuuya. In fact, in this following manga pannel Dazai is telling Chuuya that if he is willing to listen him, he will stage his own escape so that Chuuya doesn't get punnished.

Honestly, if Dazai didn't care enough for Chuuya, he wouldn't have mentioned this to him. Chuuya didn't care enough to realize that he literally unwillingly freed Dazai which would get the pm mad at him, so the fact that Dazai is literally helping him out is no doubt out of care for him. If Dazai didn't have any regard for Chuuya he would've not staged his escape or mentioned anything to Chuuya, eventually incriminating him.

There are many misconceptions when it comes to Dazai's feelings towards Chuuya, people think that he doesn't care for him due to the fact that he left the Port Mafia, leaving Chuuya behind. But heres the thing: Dazai's intentions had nothing to do with Chuuya. He left the organization for his own good, he left it to fullfill Oda's wish.

"If Dazai cared for Chuuya then why didn't he take Chuuya with him?" the reason is simple, he knows how much the PM means to Chuuya. In stormbringer it is shown that Chuuya feels as if his humanity is attached to the people he is loyal to, in this case its the port mafia. Verlaine wanted to get rid of the pm because he believed that the pm is what kept Chuuya's humanity, eventually making Chuuya believe that he is only human if he stays loyal to the pm. Dazai knows this. Thats exactly why he didn't take Chuuya with him or even explains to Chuuya why he left, he knows it would be selfish to basically rip Chuuya's sense of humanity apart.

I have a feeling that if Dazai told Chuuya about the real reason he left the Port Mafia, Chuuya will not only feel conflicted about being in the pm, but he would also have an inner conflict with himself as a human.

People also think Dazai may not really care for him because of the fact that after the fight against Lovecraft he actualy deserted him, maybe that part was truly just supposed to be seen as simple humor, but either way I want to talk about it. Chuuya's only request to Dazai was to take him back to base safe, so why did Dazai leave Chuuya behind?

I mean he has carried Chuuya back to saftey before with no problem, for example in stormbringer when Chuuya uses corruption for the first time Dazai carries him back to the billiards bar and not to the mafia’s base so that he could say goodbye to his passing friends.

The reson behind this is because Mori needs to know that unlike Dazai, Chuuya is absolutely loyal to him. Leaving Chuuya the way he did will make Mori believe that these two really are at each others throats and that Dazai is insignificant to Chuuya. Making it seem that for Chuuya, the mafia comes first before anything else.

Therefore Dazai established Chuuya's saftey within the mafia since not only does Mori want these two to be hostile with each other, he doesn't want Chuuya to eventually turn against him if he truly found out more about Dazai's true reason of departure. Then again, this isn't canon but it is a logical assumption.

Not to mention that although Dazai did leave him behind, he folded Chuuya's coat and hat before taking his leave. There is also an an extra chapter where Ozaki Kouyou was talking with Chuuya but when he left he forgot his coat, which made Kouyou came across the coat; where she noticed a badge sewed inside saying "Name: Hatrack", she smiled fondly thinking to herself that some things just never change, in this case, Dazai and Chuuya's bond.

Dazai literally took his time to sew this into his coat just to tease him, it was a simple gesture but it shows us how their dynamic will never change. No matter what these two go through, they will always share a bond that consists on teasing, trust and underlying care.

All of this actually makes that theory of Dazai planting a bomb under Chuuya's car for the sole reason that the PM doesn't find Chuuya as an acomplice who aided Dazai on his escape much more feasable.

For Dazai to just plant a bomb under Chuuya's car with no motive makes no sense because if Dazai's true intentions were to simply mess with Chuuya, he would've most likely made it clear at that time. Dazai always has an underlying motive behind his actions, and in this case it is very likely that he did that for Chuuya's sake.

Don't get me wrong, I am aware that the bomb incident could've just been a comedic moment and I shouldn't look too much into it, but there is still a posibility, right?

These two hold so much trust and care for one another, yet they also hold a lot of bitterness and resentment. In the end the good aspects of their dynamic outweighs the bad.

Either you see these two in a platonic or romantic way, you can't tell me that their bond isn't significant.

Thank you so much for reading!! I wanted to talk about this for a while because I feel like people misinterpret Dazai's feelings towards Chuuya a lot so I hope this clears up things a bit<3

[allmightluver]

**bnha spoilers** I'm just sat here with renewed realisation of what All Might is going through. 40 years. /40 years/ he held and refined that power and dedicated his every waking (and sleeping if Vigilantes is anything to go by) moment towards the goal of defeating AfO and creating a society in which people could feel happy and safe. And now as it turns out AfO is still alive, society is broken and he has given a literal piece of his soul to this young boy leaving himself with only phantoms

Yes. I don’t think people quite grasp what all he’s going through.

It’s been shown recently to us that some, if not most, heroes have underlying ambitions in becoming a hero. Whether for money, glory, fame, popularity, doesn’t matter. They’re ultimately in it for themselves. Toshinori’s intentions from the beginning have been the most pure- he wanted to be a symbol that people can look to and know things will be ok. A symbol of hope. This boy was only around 14 years old when he decided this. What kind of 14 year old sees the world that clearly? Sees that people have no hope, that a veil of darkness covers them. The only thing I can think of is- Toshinori did not have a good childhood. Something had to have happened to a boy that young to stop seeing the joy in life so early, and see the world’s flaws. Truthfully, I believe he was an outcast- due to his quirklessness. Most likely an orphan, perhaps abandoned by his parents, as we’ve never seen him have any family. I do truly believe Toshinori has been alone all his life. I don’t doubt more could have happened to him as a child before he met Nana. 

Some may argue that Izuku is the same age, and therefore it shouldn’t be that hard to see why Toshinori wanted to be a hero at such a young age. BUT, Izuku had someone to look up to, ever since he was a child of four years old, to inspire him to be a hero his whole life *cough cough* All Might. Izuku also was quirkless, much like Toshinori, and an outcast because of it (hence where I assume Toshinori was much the same). But ultimately, Izuku wanted to save people because he saw his hero do it. It really wasn’t until Izuku was a bit older, has been in UA, has been on rescue missions, has seen what the heroes see, that I think he’s truly realized how dark the world really is. Toshinori didn’t have that. He didn’t have someone to inspire him as a child, someone to look up to, a hero to inspire him to help others. At that time, heroes hadn’t become as popular as they are in present times. Toshinori saw the world for what it was, on his own, at a tender age. I think that day Nana ran into this blonde hair kid, she eyed him up, noticed his scraggly form, looked into those captivating blue eyes, and saw a man who’s lived through the world’s horrors- experienced the worst it has to offer-, and wants to save everyone he can from the same fate, all in a 14 year old boy. 

Then after only a few short years with the woman he saw as his mother, she’s killed in front of him because of his own weakness- he wasn’t strong enough yet to protect her. The only other person his life, Gran Torino, literally abused him. He beat him to a pulp, taking his own emotions out on a teenager, and I doubt Toshinori said anything of it. He probably thought he deserved it. He’s still afraid of Gran Torino to this day, remembering the beatings and expecting more for his failures- even if he doesn’t know what they are surely he’s at fault for something, but he’s the only person who’s stood by his side for this long. Even while at a distance, and spouting nothing but criticisms along the way. But Toshinori had to put aside his own emotions to be that hope for everyone. He left everything he knew to go to a new country on his own, to learn how to be a hero, to be that hope for someone.

Vigilantes showed us just how hard he worked. Toshinori literally stayed awake with no sleep for days on end- 3 in the chapter I’m referencing- because people needed help, people needed saving, and no one else stepped up. He fought villains, rescued civilians, repaired damage, cleared rubble, (even accept and eat food that was against his dietary restrictions after his injury) whatever the public needed, all while draining himself further. He worked himself to the point of exhaustion because he had no help, once literally falling asleep while mid-leap across the city because he simply could go no further. 

^^These happen in succession of each other^^

No one stepped up to say “Hey, Mr. Number 1, you’ve been working hard lately. Let me help you!” No one tried to take over his position. Even the Number 2 hero, Endeavor, never tried to take some of his burden. His only goal was to try to be better than All Might in terms of power- he was never trying to be the hero that the people relied on All Might for. Everyone relied on him when things looked grim. He was the back up plan. And all of this happened before Toshinori’s injury. 

The only thing he ever wanted to do- help people- he can’t do (at least the way he’s always known how to). The ability to save people has been taken from him in the most gruesome way. He was finally able to fight the man that killed Nana, and in a rage that I’m sure echoed with all of the emotions of the previous users, he smashed that man’s head like a grape. But not without consequence. Several organs are gone. The pain is excruciating. He wears that man’s mark on his body for the rest of his life, never truly able to rid himself of the filth.

Then we have Nighteye’s betrayal. The man that helped him as a sidekick, the man that grew to be his only friend. Now some people may ask why Toshinori flipped like he did to Nighteye looking into his future when he was concerned about him making it through his injury. What I believe is Toshinori didn’t want to know when he would die (and really, who does). Now he knows he’s on a time limit, knows the clock is ticking. Time is running out to keep the world at peace, and with him as he is now, how long can this go on? 

I think the betrayal, doing something that Toshinori specifically asked him not to do, is what hurt the most. How can he trust Nighteye anymore? He already can only count on one hand the people he can trust, let alone befriend.

He’s wasted away into a skeleton, a shell of the man he used to be. He can’t over exert himself without his only lung bleeding in protest. It’s canon in the side books that he really doesn’t eat much, which isn’t good for his diet without a stomach now (he’s supposed to have several small meals a day). He is quite literally punishing himself by starving. (Granted, he doesn’t feel hunger anymore.) He’s a sick man, beyond medical help at this point. They can only stabilize him and hope for the best. For five years now he’s in constant pain, every day. He loses blood like sweat. Surely his veins are bruised and collapsed with how many times he would have needed to be hospitalized. Whether from losing too much blood, being too dehydrated or starved from “forgetting” to eat, or an organ failing as body continues to fall apart. “...even as my body rots and grows frail...” - Toshinori People are bound to stare at him as he walks down the street. A tall, willowy, skeleton with a grimace on his face and blood stains on his clothes as he coughs up more into his own hands. There would be the ones who outright ignore him when they walk by, the people who offer pitying smiles and sympathetic glances or just outright stare, and then ones who are afraid of his appearance- children screaming at the mere sight of him and running to their parents to hide from the monster. Each one is another knife in Toshinori’s side, an ache in his chest. If only they knew who I really am.

Losing Nighteye took a toll on his hero work as well. Mirai was a huge help in the past, and took care of all Toshinori’s paperwork, while also reminding him to take care of himself. Without him, Toshinori was even more buried beneath his responsibilities. Plus, now he was on a time limit. He even snapped briefly in his first meeting with Tsukauchi, accidentally revealing himself as All Might because he was under too much pressure, and telling the detective he literally couldn’t handle doing everything by himself (who graciously took over the paperwork side of things for him). 

He was living a double life now, having to lie to people left and right about who he was while in his small form, about how he became so sickly, why he was here in the first place who the heck is this skinny old guy. Surely he had multiple visits to the doctor while continuing to repair the damage done by AFO (there’s a limit to how much the body can handle at once. And things I’m sure continued to fail as time went on). Then he would be bedridden for as long as the doctors could keep him strapped to a bed, until he couldn’t take the people’s cries for help any longer, and would jump into action. (It’s also revealed he has something of a super hearing- able to hear danger- which may have been a form of danger sense of OFA that was never fully unlocked?. Either way, he surly could sense disasters happening while he could only lay and heal from his latest surgery. Those poor doctors must have had to re-stitch him several times). People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.

People blame him for not being a good teacher. He didn’t exactly have the greatest teacher himself to learn from. He’s never had to teach anyone anything, he just punches! He’s learning. And for his own credit, he’s an incredibly wise man, he has years of experience under his belt, and an intelligence score of 6/6, scoring up there with Nezu! He may not always have the right way to bring something up, but he’s doing his best. Yet even he blames himself for Izuku not being able to control his quirk better. Every time the boy hurts himself, it’s just another tally on the chalkboard of Toshinori’s failures. He himself knows the boy deserves better, better than him. Useless. Pathetic.

Then his friend from America, Dave, essentially became a villain trying to preserve Toshinori’s legacy after Toshinori told him about his injury. Dave went behind his back, threatened people, injured people (pretty sure people died), all for Toshinori’s sake. Something he didn’t want to begin with. Having to put your only other friend in jail for trying to help you surely couldn’t have been easy.

Oh, by the way? All For One isn’t dead. All Might will fight him again, publicly, have his weakened form exposed to the world, and have his own emotions toyed with as he finds out about his master’s grandson in the villain’s hands. Would Nana hate him for leaving her son alone like she’d asked, and dooming her grandchild to be raised by the greatest villain? Could he have done anything to save him? But Toshinori isn’t allowed to feel, he has to smile and push his own feelings aside once again, because there’s a villain to be fought, and only he can fight him. Despite coming out on top, he’ll have suffered severe head trauma, broken left arm, destroyed right arm, and several cuts and bruises that are sure to scar. And then, his quirk, the only thing that’s been allowing him to help people, the gift given to him that he carefully held for 40 years and molded into his own until his very consciousness was permanently carved into it, blows out like a match in the wind. And he’s done. Used up. Empty. Broken. Hollow. Alone, again.

He overhears his student, Bakugo, admit that he blames himself for All Might’s retirement. If he hadn’t been captured, All Might wouldn’t have had to save him, and he wouldn’t have had to fight AFO. Of course Toshinori knows that’s not true, his time was about to run out anyway. It would have happened one way or another. But how can he explain to this child that he wasn’t the cause of his hero, the world’s greatest hero, fighting for his sake, bleeding for his sake, being forced into retirement to keep him safe. Every time Bakugo sees the bandages covering Toshinori’s body is another reminder of the pain and sacrifice Toshinori willingly gave to keep him safe. Toshinori wasn’t held when his mentor died. He wasn’t told it was ok to be sad, that grief and mourning was a natural process, that it takes time to heal. He wasn’t told it was ok to cry. Instead his feelings were beaten out of him as he wondered if Gran Torino blamed him for Nana’s death. He already blamed himself How then, does he comfort a child mourning for him? For what he lost.

And then he gets the call to come to the hospital. Mirai, Nighteye, his old sidekick friend, has been gravely injured, much like he himself was only a few years ago, and most likely won’t survive the night. And to his horror, Nighteye is happy to see him, smiles at him, says he doesn’t hate him for what happened, only wants Toshinori to be happy. He can’t accept that, at least let him apologize, reconcile his sins before it’s too late! But it is. Another fractured piece of his heart gone.

Of course, seeing your students beat up and their arms completely destroyed must have hurt. Instead of being able to save these kids, they’re the ones that hurt themselves to save everyone else. And if Bakugo had kept OFA, things could have been very different (especially with what we know now of OFA and people with quirks). Toshinori wasn’t mad at Izuku for transferring it away, he’d never regret choosing Izuku, and I believe he still would have stayed by Izuku and Bakugo’s side should it have stayed in Bakugo, doing whatever he could to help.

As he tells Aizawa, “I’ve decided to live,” -that statement seems so melancholy, besides obvious reasons. It sounds more like another task he has to accomplish. He didn’t die he was supposed to die with the AFO fight, and now the whole life he lived is over. The world has no use for him anymore. If not for Izuku, he’d have nothing left keeping him here. But because his boy made him promise to live, he’ll do so. Though it almost seems like he says those words with regret. “I’ve decided to live.” Not, “I’m going to live!” “Nothing can kill me!” “I won’t go down without a fight!” No. “I’ll live if I have to, only because you asked me to.” The man is obviously and outwardly depressed. He has so many things against him. No doubt has severe PTSD, anxiety, among others. Not to mention his own physical health. Every day hurts. It’s painful to be alive. Why would he torture himself if he doesn’t have to? For you, my boy. You’re the only thing keeping me here. The only light in my dark world.

He tries to help Izuku find out the previous holder’s quirks, to help his boy in any way he can now that he’s worthless, and goes days on end without sleep, running his body into the ground. He even forgets Christmas. Only to find that by giving the boy the same gift he had received, he may have just doomed him to an early death, among psychological torture (danger detection). (Granted, he really doesn’t know how everything works, and he’s afraid to talk to anyone about it). His boy could live only half a life.

It’s only been a few months since he retired, and society has fallen into shambles. People are blaming him. People are dying. He watches helplessly as his colleague fight his fight for him, and end up battered, bruised, crippled, dead. He students, his boy, battle the monster he should have killed. Children are bleeding. This shouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Is everything he worked for, everything he fought to protect, to build up, to inspire, is all for naught?! Did he live a foolish dream and doom the world? Was all the the friends he lost, tears he shed, the organs he destroyed, the pain he endures on a daily basis from the hole in his side, and the blood he continues to bleed every day, for nothing? The public, the ones he protected for so long, mourn his absence, but surely there are those among them who also blame him. The statue from his last fight in Kamino one that he never asked for was decimated in a mock of his catch phrase- the one that was supposed to give hope.

Now he can feel his own vestige speaking with Izuku in the OFA realm, even with out OFA in his own body anymore. His clock as nearly reached it’s limit, Nighteye’s prediction is due any day now. The only thing he wants is to see his boy smile at him, to give him some shred of hope. Yet the child remains unconscious, and Toshinori can’t even hold his hand from the bandages covering his arms. Will he still be able to fight? Is there any coming back from this now? Did I break him?

With all Toshinori has been through, I’m honestly surprised we haven’t seen him just outright break down. Anyone, anyone, else should have crumbled under the pressure of holding up the world for 40 years alone. And instead of being able to pass it on to someone when he can no longer bear its weight, it simply falls to into the abyss. People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.