#ccomulsoare

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@cc-omul-soare​ for nagato! // starter call! 

                   ❝ you're playing with the big boys now. ❞

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plotted starter for @cc-omul-soare

                                itachi   wasn't   the   same   since   that   day;   and   he'd   be   a   filthy   liar   if   he   tried   to   claim   otherwise.   the   moment   he   escaped   obito   he   felt   like   he   had   been   reborn   to   a   less   good   version   of   himself,   filled   with   unbridled   rage   and   anger   at   what   makes   him   this   way;   money,   society,   fugaku   who   keeps   on   talking   about   how   important   his   education   was.   

                                       the   man   needn't   any   of   this.   did   not   want   a   part   in   this   –   he   wants   his   father   back,  the   way   he   was   before.   to   no   avail   his   thoughts   spur   him   on,   and   in   the   end   he   did   nothing   but   get   inside   his   truck   to   leave   this   place   and   forget,   stop   lamenting   about   what   happened   and   keep   on   looking   forward.   

                                it's   the   moment   he   pulls   from   the   parkin’   lot   that   he   almost   runs   over   a   stranger that   was   so   god   damn   familiar   he's   gotta   take   another   look   at   him,   red   hair   and   purple   eyes---   skin   pale,   body   lanky   and   he   knows,   he   trails   back with   a   hand   on   the   steering   wheel   and   another   on   the   door   to   release   the   safety   and   allow   him   in.   

                                                                „ nagato!? “   

                                oh   fuck---   fuck,   fuck,   fuck.   itachi   opens   the   door   for   him,   stares   at   obito   and   konan   up   into   the   conversation   that's   none   other   but   violent.   get   inside,   come   on!

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@cc-omul-soare​ ASKED: "I know you don’t like to be the cause of concern, but I’m officially concerned about you." Nagato from cc-omul-soare pls                // HANNIBAL SEASON 1 SENTENCE STARTERS

take from him what you want, but don't take his dignity; his right to decide when to be weak, when to be perceived as one in need of assistance. he dreads the thought of being the centerpiece, important enough to be looked upon when in a state of limbo; hanging on a thread between life and death, so it feels like, so it always did, and so it ALWAYS will. dabi knows no other way of living and cannot stand the thought of a recovery; 

rendering him into someone who he is not, a person healthy enough to determine for himself when aid was called for, when one has to lend a hand, too. SYMPATHY, fuck that shit; his eyes tell of emotions; 

blue's a flaming sensation just behind lashes, a squint questioning the other's intentions. no agreement will come. NO RESPONSE, either, not if he can help it, not verbally at least, and dabi is great when it comes to spitting poison in another's face. 

officially concerned, my ass. it took long, yes; to acknowledge how long it takes to regain. to achieve. to heal in the simplest of ways, with AFFECTION from one where it's most desires; and dabi has no other to rely on, to tell it to, even if nagato was here. always around, surely not pleasant company but one that loves misery (shared, their bond, of course) 

concern only stems from the thought of losing a precious asset, one with the vital information to help the cause. none more. he almost DARED NOT think he was cared for as an individual. 

when words finally do spill they're nothing nice, drip vile or an innocent bystander might call them bored in sound. a hint of ANNOYANCE, too. 

                  ❝ you're right, i don't. you're not concerned about me but about the goal. don't FUCKING worry. don't even bother. ❞ 

he could've very well flipped nagato off and blew a kiss with a FUCK YOU on his lips; same sentiment, wrapped in pretty paper with a bow around.

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@cc-omul-soare​​ asked: Has Nagato slide the Dabi some dumplings and a milk coffee. JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING TO MAKE HIM FEEL MORE AT HOME! // make my muse feel loved!

no place feels like a home, and dabi suspects none could ever be called such, nor would one carry the feeling – whatever this sensation entailed in the first place. he wouldn't know, does not care to find out either; but to feel safe, or, well, safer in relativity, was as good and close as he could get and bear to become. 

eyes wander, first, before dabi shifts in his spot to lean forward, stares at the snacks offered to him like they'd have the power to do him harm. always the headshaker 'bout harmless shit, learnt from skeptics in his life to be about as cynic as humanly possible. 

                   „yo... for real? thanks so much, i love that sweet shit!“    dumplings, oof... that's the good stuff. dabi does never feel at home anywhere, neither does he feel at ease – yet a little less apprehensive, now, of all moments where he could.

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anonymous said: “ no, you ARE strong. ” Arthur-Sebastian please 

                    then    why    does    he    feel   like    this?    water    fills    his    lungs,    an    ice-cold   grip    choking    him,    squeezing    what    he    had    left   out    of    his    very    being;    the    good,    the    bad,   the    inkling    of    humanity    barely    about    to    set   root    within    his    chest.    

                    sebastian    shakes    his   head,    forces    himself    to    breathe    more    evenly,   attempts    to    rid    his    shoulders    of    the    heavy   weight    settled    upon    them    threatening    to    tear    him   down.    before    thoughts    digress,    until    he    loses   his    grip    on    reality,    sebastian    sits    himself    up   with    a    pitiful    grunt,    undermining    just    how   wrong    arthur    was.    

                    ❝ where    am    i    strong?    show   me    where. ❞

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Anonymous said: you’ve always been strong for me . let me return the favor . Toshi & Sugar / hurt ‘n comfort prompts! @cc-omul-soare​ <3

                     it  clearly   was   not   the   imbalance   of   power   nor   the   difference   in   ambitions   that   gets   to   him;   not   their fragile   selves   for   all   they're   worth.   above   anything   else   toshinori   fears   what   will   become   of   him   when   one   day   sugar   realizes   he   is   not   strong   even   if   he   says   so.   even   if   he   acts   like   it.   even   if   he  puts   on   a   mask.   it   will   slip   and   it   will   hurt   when   it   does   and   toshinori   was   clearly   not   ready   to  let   go,   allow   hands   to   slip   from   sugar's   when   they   fit   so   wonderfully   together   like   this,   skin   on   skin,   cold   and   warmth   in   a   steady   exchange.   

                    sugar   cannot   see   the   worry   in   his   eyes   or   concern   on   his   face,   would   not   see   the   tears   sneaking   into   the  corners   of   toshinori's   eyes   eventually.   ❝ thank   you, ❞  it   feels   right   to   say,   right   to   let   words   leave   confinement   and   be   free   in   the   air,   ❝ i   have   nothing   left   in   me.   sugar.   i... ❞  

                    it's   not   new.   he  isn't   foreign   to   the   sensation   of   emptiness,   of   being   stripped   from   what   used   to   make   him   so   grand.  so   strong.   so   full   of   life.   

                    all   he   can   do   is    wrap   himself   around   sugar,   hands   shaking   on   his   back   while   toshinori   buries   his   face   in   the   crook   of   his   neck   and   remains   there,   breathes   him   in   and breathes   the   world   out.

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cc-omul-soare​:

Ah. He should have thought Itachi would be making his way up here soon enough. He can’t bypass him and in truth he wouldn’t even want to; his presence was enough to put a smile on Nagato’s face.

Of course, the man will always have a different opinion than him, but that’s what made them strong: the different perspective, taken with great consideration. As such he takes the next silence to contemplate both what his partner and Dabi said.

“A force like the League and the Akatsuki combined would be to be undoubtedly feared, but with no Shigaraki Tomura we cannot make sure we’re not making a deal with the enemy, All for One. But Dabi here, sure, is our friend.“ He looks the burnt man straight in deep blue eyes. This would be the social contract he’d be making with the Akatsuki. “Dabi is our ally, so we’re going to be allies in return.“

“For now, however we should keep this alliance discreet.“ His voice is suave, yet commanding.

But, to keep the time full til then… Nagato gets up, cracks his knuckles and tries to revitalize the connection with the Nomu.

“Itachi“ a darling, almost slipped from his lips then, but he would rather not be what Dabi first sees of him. “Let me show you our newest asset.“

He tries to replicate the movement he did back at the laboratory, commanding the brain to force the quirk out, but with more force than before. From the Nomu’s hands shoot a spiral of flames that dissipate before they could damage anything in the room, but still, a wave of extreme heat washed over them, while Nagato was left once again with his chin in his hand contemplating his next move.

Again. He uses fire and this time it felt like he had it more under control, a slight rotating tornado spawned from the Nomu’s hands upwards in a steady stream, now looking no more dangerous than a candle. He couldn’t hold it for longer than a few seconds still, and he’s already feeling sick to his stomach.

Brains are expensive and short circuiting an entire nervous system ate up his proteins faster than a fire burns through coal, no pun intended.

So…

“Hmm… Would you like to stick around for dinner, Dabi?“

he clearly wasn't drunk enough for any of this; a new alliance, brought forth by selfish needs and the desire to save what is most dear to him. moments shared in silence laid open, even if nagato nor itachi deemed it as such; the display of vulnerability. open only for a trained eye, and dabi fears itachi's might be one, the way he looks at nagato no hint but straight up neon-bright arrow pointing at what is cherished more than his own existence; 

another's, nagato's much like tomura's was to touya's. the guiding light, driving force and a hunger that cannot be stilled. 

love will be his downfall; 

an unquenchable thirst that cannot be extinguished; 

the force that cannot be explained, cannot be broken down into a chemical process. 

the beacon that would guide him back home when no one else is there, the light that luminates his loss; it's absence robbing him of pleasure and capacity for joy. 

it makes his night darker, days gloomier – no matter how sad or how wrong, how terrible touya clings to it, it gives him strength and holds him upright. 

it feeds him, and he feeds on it; 

love is his grace, love would be his downfall. 

what was never imagined to strike him with such great force now leads his hands, would describe his actions and make means to an end, no matter what another would dare say of it – no matter how wrong, how doomed. he embraces it, and barely recognizes itachi's words nor does he hear nagato's – 

filled with a light that's not only quenching the need but supplies the pain, makes it greater, unbearable even and most addicting it's effect of trembling hands and tight pants, how weird that may be it's not a thing he can help. he wants to take what's his, dives into thoughts so very misplaced but feeling more than right. suggestive and nasty, tomura's voice in his head no whisper but screams of pleasure and dabi needs to inhale sharply, exhale just the same to be brought back to reality. 

he wants him back. needs him by his side or he'd freak. go insane. crazy. unhinged, absolutely and utterly off the tracks with a rage in place of affection for what dares take it from him. 

the heat bothers him greatly, what nagato did with the nomu the only thing that manages to bring him back to the here and now, ashamed of thoughts and eventually ready to let them go with a face so straight it'd fool the perviest of them. 

„dinner? yeah. yeah, sounds good. don't ever do that shit again, though. i can't fucking handle the heat.“ itachi looks at him like he's told the joke of the century. like dabi was the fucking joke of the fucking century; 

like he sees right through him, or maybe recognized the change of tone, of expression and how warm his face feels. if he does he did not comment on it, rather decides to lighten the load. 

„you should stay with us for the time being, dabi. it's not going to hurt you if you do.“ he speaks so soft, with a smile adorning his features, and for real dabi does nothing else but imagine someone else directing such a smile at him. „you'll get a room, too. for yourself.“ 

how nice of them – maybe it'll help, maybe it'll lighten his chest more than words said. itachi leads the way downstairs again, dabi walking behind nagato slower than usual, careful of movements now.