#he's a vile person to the core

[kcyars520]

in 20 years meg will do a tell all interview or memoir and all these people will be nobodies who once tried to destroy an incredible woman and artist

[slugsby-pt3]

The Sociopath and Psychopath labeling is so stupid (in the Eric/dylan situation). I think, personally, it is very hard to diagnose a dead person and go only off their actions select people saw. We don’t know what they’re thinking, intent, any of that. As for the journals, that isn’t them at their realest form. We all play a part, if you know it or not, where we truly don’t even know ourselves. You lose all sense of self when you die. You were never truly how you were because no one knows that side. They know the good, the bad, and the ugly but in rose colored glasses. We just love to hand pick the most radical times (good and bad) that we remember of someone and it just sticks because that person is dead and can’t speak for themselves. I hate that truly.

[wereh0gz]

Thinking abt eggman and sage's dynamic and also eggman and metal's dynamic and how interesting it is bc the cute eggdad moments they have are purely superficial

Bc like eggman only likes them bc they're useful to him. Bc they're competent. Sage he likes especially bc of what she can do and how well she performs (with metal, the more I think of it the more I think he doesn't like him as much but he still sees him as valuable at least). But the moment they fail in any way he's willing to threaten them like how he threatened metal with a strict software patch or something along those lines which he's done to metal multiple times (actually acting on it after heroes bc of the whole neo metal fiasco)

His love for them is so superficial. It's all abt how well they serve him. And Sage and Metal don't see that. And that hurts bc they may never see that. They actually love him, and see him as a father, and would do anything to gain his approval. But if they fail, and if they fail badly enough, they could very well end up being scrapped and replaced

He could kill them. He'd only be disappointed at losing an asset of the eggman empire, but otherwise. He wouldn't really care

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 6)

Masterpost

The Wayne family gathered in the family room once Alfred was done setting up the projector, somehow there was also a plate of cookies and a couple pots of tea on the coffee table. How he’d found the time they didn’t know, he always seemed to be doing just a little more than should be possible but they didn’t question it. 

Jazz seemed nervous as she plugged in her USB and accessed the power point on Ghosts and Liminality. The tidal page had a picture of Danny in his Phantom form standing with a group of others, a boy with gray skin and blond hair, a girl with green hair and skin, and a goth with purple eyes and a dark skinned boy who looked around Danny’s age, and Jazz with the title “Ghosts and Liminals!” 

The next slide had simple text: “What are they and How are they made?”

With each slide she read the text on the screen allowed and then added any context or anecdotes she thought of, or had prepared. 

(Next slide)

Ghosts:

Made of ectoplasmic energy and obsession

Made either:

when someone dies with strong enough desires

An idea gains enough traction to take on a life of its own

Immutable concepts and gods

Must be allowed to indulge in obsessions or they will cease to exist

All have basic abilities such as flight, intangibility, invisibility, and minor shape shifting

On top of basic abilities most will have additional powers based on their obsessions

Immortal unless killed 

Love to fight

Liminals

Made when a human is exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for prolonged periods of time

Have some ghostly traits 

Ghostly traits vary person to person

Less susceptible to human illness and injury

“The ghosts on the picture are Kitty and Johnny, we’ve had problems with them but would consider them friends now. They’re the ghosts of two humans who died, but there are others, Vortext for instance is the ghost of Storms. Those ghosts who come from ideas are called ‘neverborns’. There seem to be almost an infinite number of ghosts, however not all of them are interested in having anything to do with us so we tend to get the same faces showing up a lot in Amity.

“I don’t know how many liminals there are. I thought they might be new with my parents' research but as I look into it more I think there are more natural sources of ectoplasm then my parents thought.” Jazz explained before going to transition to the next slide.

“I have a question-” Bruce started before Jazz hushed him. 

“Wait till the end please! I might answer it without you having to ask,” She scolded, and he felt very much like a schoolboy again as his children snickered.

(Next slide including a image of the glowing green viles in the Fenton’s lab and a glowing green crystal)

Ghost biology 

Ghosts do not have any recognizable organs or bones

The only solid part of their being is their Core which is the source of their ectoplasm 

Any injury to a ghosts form not done directly to their core is considered minor and will heal

A healthy ghost is fully capable of mending any damage including removed limbs in a matter of hours or days depending on extent of the injury

All injuries not including the Core are considered minor 

Ghosts are considered young for at least the first hundred years of their existence and are often not considered adults until nearly 500

A caveat to this is ghosts are heavily driven by emotion and will often be the age they feel they are allowing ghosts to mature much more quickly, or more slowly

When this is the case ghosts are treated as the age they present and behave

Ghosts reproduce by shaping ectoplasm and Wanting a child badly enough

“Believe me it was incredibly scary the first time I saw Danny in his ghost form have something go right through his stomach. It took him a long time to convince me it wasn’t a big deal and it barely hurt. He does have to make sure he repairs the damage Before turning human again though or the damage can transfer over and I don’t need to tell you a hole in the gut is a lot more serious for humans!

“If I’m honest I only know ghosts that have stayed younger then they really are, for instance Youngblood who’s a few hundred years old and could be well on his way to adulthood if he wanted but has remained a child. I assume it can go the other way though, if a ghost is very mature for their age.”

Ectoplasm 

Ectoplasm is the energy that makes up all ghosts and the Ghost Zone itself. All ghosts can feed on the ectoplasm around them as well as produce their own by indulging in obsessions. The ghosts Cores produce the ectoplasm like a brain produces neurochemicals when exposed to the right stimulation.

Ectoplasm is a powerful source of energy but unstable. When it is stabilized into an ecto-crystal it is more stable and can be used as a power source safely by ghosts and liminals.

“Most ectoplasm is green like you see in the pictures. But it isn’t the only colour, some other ghosts produce different colours and it is highly tied to what emotion drives them. When it’s pure it usually smells like petracore but it can get pretty foul.”

(next slide)

What are Obsessions

Every ghost has one or more obsessions

They can be very literal things such as boxes, or ideas and emotions such as Love

In rarer cases they may have dual obsessions

Unlike for humans obsessions are very healthy for ghosts

Ghosts need to indulge their obsessions

Sometimes the way ghosts indulge their obsessions might seem evil, however it is almost always just amoral 

Obsessions shape every part of a ghost from their powers to thier physical appearance, to befriend a ghost you Must understand and aid their obsession

In very extreme circumstances a ghosts obsession may shift, sometimes this is healthy, more often it is a result of extreme trauma

“With my interest in psychology this was sort of hard for me to accept. From the outside the way ghosts obsess seems really unhealthy but it’s what gives them life. When not allowed to indulge in their obsessions ghosts will dysregulate and go to extreme lengths to try and get their obsession, if that doesn’t work they either go dormant if their core is still healthy enough or they will melt. 

“Ghosts change their obsessions very rarely, I’ve heard of it happening as they heal. For instance once a ghost has gotten revenge for themselves, if that was their obsession, their obsession might shift to avenging other people, or even protecting them so they don’t need to be avenged.”

(Next Slide)

Ghost Culture

The Ghosts have a monarchy

The title of the Ghost King is not hereditary but passed through trial by combat

Under the monarch is a council of being known as Observants, and powerful and old ghosts called Ancients 

Ghosts respect strength and value power and cunning in combat a lot

Ghosts bond with each other through combat and play fight with family and friends often

“I have down that the ghosts are a monarchy, and technically that is true but the current Ghost King was a tyrant who was locked away thousands of years ago. I’m sure as soon as someone shows up who’s powerful enough to beat him his court will be happy to pick up where they left off with a better King, or queen, though I don’t think the title has to change based on gender.

“I really can’t stress enough how violent ghosts are! Because nothing short of having their cores shattered can kill them, play fighting for them can look Very Much like a murder attempt to a human. A lot of the issues we’ve had with ghosts have come from them just not understanding quite how fragile humans, and for most of them they feel really bad once they know they actually Hurt someone by shooting them. It’s really best for everyone when they’re kept separate and Ghosts can happily tear each other apart in peace.”

Liminals

The result of long term low level exposure to ectoplasm, sudden high doses are almost always deadly

Liminals Can have almost every trait a ghost can, usually having a combination of a few

Commonalities between liminals include

Minor cosmetic changes such as: glowing eyes, pointed ears, and/or sharp teeth 

Increased stamina, strength, and aggression

Increased obsessive behaviour

Liminals sometimes develop powers shaped by the strength and type of obsession 

“Most of the people Danny and I know are liminals. I don’t want to talk about them in case they don’t want to be outed so I’ll talk about myself and my parents. We all had prolonged exposure after all. My ears are pointed,” She said brushing her hair back so they could see them, “And Danny is a little more then liminal but even in human form he has fangs. 

“My parents didn’t realize it but they could to the point they could subsist on their obsession without needing to eat or sleep as often as a regular human would. About a year ago I started developing the ability to tap into and feel other peoples emotions, I can feed on them a little too but I try not to because the Worst ghost we met did that and I don’t want to be anything like her.”

(Next Slide)

In conclusion

Ghosts are not evil even though sometimes their actions are hard to understand

Never get between ghosts when they’re fighting each other but it’s usually safe to yell at them to remind them not to break anything

Never get between a ghost and their obsession

Don’t drink ectoplasm unless you know you’re already liminal

“I have a feeling the section about liminals will be familiar to a bunch of you. I know Damian is liminal though I don’t know how he was exposed to ectoplasm and some of you,” Her eyes skirted across Tim and Bruce. “Are toeing the line. You’ll probably notice Damian and Danny getting really close, and they might get in some really vicious looking fights. I promise Danny is playing at least.”

The family was left silent for a moment, Bruce knew he was thinking about Jason. Who had died, been exposed to.. What certainly seemed to be something like Lazarus water and come back, obsessive, aggressive, and emotional. He wished he’d had this powerpoint a long time ago. It helped understand Damian too but mostly he was thinking about Jason. He needed to reach out again, maybe meeting Danny would be good for Jason?

“So uhhh, ya, that’s the end of the powerpoint?” Jazz said, shifting from foot to foot in the awkward silence. “Any questions?”

Next

[mamayan]

yandere jjk? with noncon(your wish) megumi /gojo/toji

Yandere Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! Darling

cw: Not proof read • Gladiator JJK! • Slave girl reader • Dark • Yandere • NSFW • Fem/AFAB Reader • NONCON turned DUBCON • Punishment • Spanking • Darling has hair long enough to pull • Spitting • Oral/Deep Throating • PIV Sex • Anal/Anal Play • Double Penetration • Gangbang • Praise/Degradation • Humiliation • Dumbification • Overstimulation • Dom jjk men • Sub reader • Kinda fluffy? • Manipulation • Sadistic Satoru (kinda)

wc: A lot? Idk like 4k or more, I did half on google doc and half here lol

Porn with no plot, just straight porn.

“Hey, Meg,” it’s bad. This entire day couldn’t be going more horribly wrong.

“Hn?” A soft grunt for someone covered in so much gore.

“Your old man care we’re in his quarters?” The white haired male had his eyes covered by a strange metal band, one usually connected to a helmet. He wore no head gear though, hardly any armor either. A testament to his confidence and strength.

“He doesn’t.” The dark haired male still dripping blood spoke back, but his eyes didn’t leave your cowering form.

“Well then shall we? I’ve been hard since I won my match. Be a shame to waste good meat when it’s offered up like this.” The vile and leering tone of the white haired devil above you only had your blood going icy. The cool wet stone beneath your aching knees and skinned up palms was a stark contrast to your boiling insides. They spoke as if you were akin to the animals kept beneath the Colosseum, as if you were livestock meant for slaughter and not a living person. You should’ve known better, your Master had been so eager to offer up a servant for the great Gladiator Toji upon the man’s request. It seemed odd to not send a more experienced servant… instead your Master sent you. A lesser slave and much more inexperienced… you now realize why after being sent below the arena you were only used to seeing from above.

Gladiators surely have earned their keep. Muscles and bared teeth, the Gladiators are warriors to their core, ready to spill blood and die at any moment.

A soft thing like you? They wanted to chew up and spit out. Swallow whole. Take you apart piece by piece until you knew nothing of your own name or life before. Except you were Toji’s and that meant something. Well, to everyone but the two younger males standing over you. The white haired male seemingly a bit older than the dark, the two close too as the older one leaned against his younger counterpart with a hand on his hip as he examined you behind his metal eye block. You knew who these two males were. Everyone knew who they were.

Satoru and Megumi, you’d only seen them from afar, not wealthy enough to afford to sit closer to the arena floor. Even from afar they left an impression though, at least on your soul.

Demons.

Creatures from hell which have proven unkillable. Megumi being Toji’s son, while Satoru acted as Megumi’s teacher. They ruled the arena, and it’s not a secret that Satoru is a noble’s son who willingly joined the Gladiators after serving in the Imperial military. Megumi too volunteered for his position, while his father stayed employed working off an endless debt due to a gambling addiction the wealthy enjoy feeding. His mountain of owed cash so overflowing it’s rumored he even owes to the Emperor himself.

Yet it didn’t explain why you were here like this. You’d been told indirectly from a stable hand that Toji wished you to clean and wait in his chambers, private unlike lower classed Gladiators. Instead you’d been grabbed and tossed to the floor by Satoru and spoken about before your very eyes. You weren’t a fool. What they, or at least Satoru wanted, was clear enough.

“I-I’m sorry if I offended m-my lords, p-please forgive—,” you were silenced by a hand raising, a slim perfect finger help up against plush pink lips. Satoru’s lips tilted up in amusement as he eyed you behind his shades.

“Nu-uh pretty, you be good and stay silent while we talk, okay?” He spoke to you as one would address a child, not how a man who was quickly untying his leather breaches might. He ignored your trembling form to return his attention to his pupil.

“She’s cuter close up like this, right Meg?” Satoru teased, happy to free his aching hard cock from the tight confines of his pants. He loved the look of fright in your wide doe eyes, a slight tremor to your bottom lip. “I’ve been craving to sink my cock into your little cunt for a while now.” He’s addressing you again, crouching down to get more to your eye level so you caught a flash of bright blue through the metal blocking his eyes. His grin is sadistic and jovial, sharp canines bared aggressively as he jerks his leaking shaft without shame while watching you.

“P-please don’t—hgh!” Your jaw is gripped in an iron lock by Satoru, who still smiles despite the furrow of his brow.

“Thought I said no talkin’? If I need’a say it again…” he leaves the threat open. You can only tearfully nod the best his grip allows, cheeks smushed and lips pursed cutely while your reddened eyes silently ask for mercy this time. His grip softens minutely, “Good girl~” he praises, smile becoming less vicious as he releases you to stand up again.

“Want her first Meg?” Satoru addresses the silent male, who stares down at you with the same intensity he held the moment you’d entered the chambers.

“Yes.” That chills you more than Satoru’s comment, Megumi’s demeanor more dark and strangely concerning as he steps towards you. You have a few options now, and your mind reminds you that if you don’t act now it’s entirely over for you. Your first option is to simply allow it to happen. You’re a slave with no status, and you’ve had your ownership transferred to a Gladiator in eternal debt with the most violent track record. These two before you have a close connection with your new owner, disobeying could mean death.

Then again obedience could mean it too.

You leapt, lucky enough to escape the hand reaching out to grab you as you sprinted for the door. The thick wooden frame made your muscles scream as you yanked it open, and just as your foot stepped through the threshold, you were yanked back by your hair. A sharp scream echoed off the stone walls, your legs kicking out in protest as you fought back wildly.

Megumi needle only one arm to yank you up off your feet and onto the low platform bed his father occasionally used to sleep on. It’s been weeks though since he’s bothered sleeping in his own chambers, more often than not bought home by a noble woman for the evening after matches to warm their bed for a steep price. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, easily subduing you with a hand circling your neck and slowly decreasing your oxygen and blood flow.

It made you very compliant, much to his lower half’s enjoyment. The little whimpers and weak hands slapping at his chest were akin to a kitten’s attack.

“Let’s see here~” Satoru hums, quick to grip the fabric of your clothing between two hands and tear it down the middle. It was a useless endeavor to attempt to escape, as they chuckle and strip you entirely naked on the bed smelling of dust, sweat, and blood now. Both males haven’t showered, Megumi’s body the most blood soaked even after stripping. The metallic sour tinge to his masculine scent revolting as you turn your head away in disgust.

“Nu-uh~ bad girl, you keep your eyes on us, or I’ll just remove them from your skull. Okay?” It didn’t matter how terrified you were before, the thought of your eyes being removed had them snapping to the male who threatened you. He’d tossed aside his eye piece, letting you see the visibly beautiful face of a God it seemed smiling down at you. In a way he was a God, or at least blessed by one, his strength and power undeniable but wicked and cruel ways no less. One pale slender finger pressed against the side of your face, just under your eye, and Satoru took enjoyment seeing how quickly you froze up. “Be a good girl now, Meg hasn’t had a woman before, so you’ll both get to have your first! Isn’t that romantic?” It wasn’t, at least to you, but the almost dreamy look in the dark eyed male was unmistakable.

Megumi was certainly in a dream it seemed. How could he not be? You were here, beneath him, and completely naked and vulnerable to do as he pleased. Before today he was certain you didn’t know his name, or if you did it was merely from his matches. He knew your name though, said it a thousand times when he gripped his cock and worked himself over, moaning it while he came nearly every morning. He wouldn’t need to touch his cock anymore though. He had you now. Whether he needed to share you with his teacher or father wasn’t bothersome, it meant you had more eyes looking out for you anyway.

Satoru amused himself with scaring you senseless while Megumi parted your trembling thighs, settling his shoulders between them to keep you from closing them again. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, catching Satoru’s attention.

“Look how wet she is…” Megumi couldn’t bring himself to much else but admire your soaked cunt even as you mumbled quiet pleas and prayers.

“Oh? Are you a little pervert Y/N? Do you like the thought that we’re going to fuck you?” Satoru’s relentless, soft lips pressing close to your ear and whispering his intentions and insults against the shell while you writhe at the feeling of something soft and slimy poking through your folds. His tongue, you realize with a jolt of him licking up, grazing your sensitive little clit. Your gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by either male, and soon a wide chiseled chest blankets you as Satoru captures your lips in a heavy kiss and invasion of your mouth. Megumi focuses on your lower mouth though, fingers digging into the fat of your thigh as he struggles to retain his sanity as he loses himself to your taste and the erotic euphoria filling him. Every little wiggle and moan encourages him on where to lick and suck, and eventually his fingers sneak down and into your quivering wet hole.

“Mhm! P-plea—!” Satoru muffles all protest with his mouth, one free hand playing with your chest while you struggle to avoid the building pressure in your lower belly as Megumi relentlessly attacks your nub and hole. He flicks and meanly pinches and pulls your nipples, enjoying how your spine arches up each time he bullies them. He doesn’t let you avoid his kiss, and if you close your mouth he plugs your nose and forces it open again so his tongue can taste you.

It’s too much, and you’re coming much too quickly from their rough attention.

It doesn’t end though, only changes as Megumi lifts up, dark hair slightly limp and falling into his eyes as he softly smiles at you, much like a lover might despite the horrid situation. “So good f’me, think you can do it again for him?” He’s not really asking, as he switches places with Satoru who looks overjoyed and viscous as he stares at your quivering dripping pussy.

“Course she can, just listen.” Satoru laughs, messily rubbing your overly sensitive clit and eliciting a yelp from your swollen lips. The lewd wet noises produced from his heavy petting only increasing the shame building inside you as you tearfully whine and try to twist your hips away. “She’s soaking the bed too. We’re getting everything dirty anyway, let’s just fuck her up as much as possible.” You don’t understand what that means until two fingers sink all the way inside you without warning.

“Oh Gods!” Your short cry is silenced again when Megumi decides to kiss you. His lips more tentative and the taste slightly shocking until you realize you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. Despite all you wish for, it makes you tighten on Satoru’s fingers as he gleefully curls them up inside your gummy walls.

“Think she likes how she tastes.” The devilish comment only makes Megumi groan in response, pulling back slightly to reply. “She tastes fucking delicious.” He murmurs against you, stealing your breath again while your poor cunt is finger fucked by Satoru at a quick and forceful rate. Each thrust of his hand accompanied by a loud squelch as he uses his other hand to ensure you stay spread and still despite the panic striking you.

“Mh! S’too’—ngh!!!” Even as you squirm and cry, neither lets up until you’re breaking this time, orgasm so strong you feel your eyes roll back.

“That’s it pretty girl, cum for me,” Satoru nearly comes with you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, fluid rapidly forced from the confines of your cunt and out as you squirt for him. It’s a sight for sore eyes, the cute fucked out expression on your face as they force your body to relax and lubricate itself for their pleasure.

You’re too out of it to notice the switch again, Megumi back between your thighs but this time holding his curved thick cock between his fingers. Gripping it, he pulls back the skin hiding his sensitive head, easily slicking the tip up. The bulbous soft head smushing against your clit and folds and dragging up and down as you squeak and tiredly roll your head to look up and down.

It’s too late to truly realize what’s happening until his hips are surging forward and the tight ring of muscle at the opening of your pussy is stretched wide open on his cock for the first time. Your scream is silent, mouth open but no noise leaving. Instead you hear Megumi’s moans, short gasps of pleasure huffed into the humid and heating room as he struggles to work his shaft into your tight canal either trying to suck him further in or force him out. Your contracting muscles and choked gasps only spur him to fuck deeper until you’re filled inch by inch with him.

He bottoms out eventually, your sweaty bodies tinged slightly pink as he rubs against you, smearing blood from the Gladiator he killed today on your skin now.

“Wow~ look at how well you’re taking him, here, I’ll help.” In your shock and daze, you’d nearly forgotten about Satoru. The male happy to lift you up and make you see the enormous cock now swallowed up inside you, filling you almost painfully as you shake. “How’s it feel Meg?” He asks, blue eyes looking at Megumi’s strained expression.

“G-good…” is all he can manage. It’s better than good, more than good will ever be, but it’s all he can choke out without snapping and fucking you roughly.

“Hm~ it’ll feel better if you play with her here,” Satoru guides, his striking blue gaze focused on you with a nearly malevolent intensity as you grit your teeth to attempt to adjust to the intrusion more gracefully. He ruins it though, skilled fingers dancing down your belly and right to where you’re most vulnerable. Your cry isn’t silenced this time as Satoru presses down on the fleshy pearl above your opening. Megumi’s clumsy thrusts have spread you to your limit while Satoru rubs your nub with calculated precision.

“F-forgive me…I-I’m sorry…” both males look to your face now, confusion painting Megumi’s flushed face while Satoru seems enamored.

“How cute~ what’re you apologizing for?” He doesn’t let up. His fingers give you no rest and Megumi’s jerky thrusts seem intent on staying as deeply buried as possible. “Shh, being s’good, relax for me.” Megumi murmurs close to your ear, leaning over you some as Satoru braces you from behind.

It’s too much. You’re clamping down tight around the hot shaft stuffed deep inside, muscles contracting almost painfully around him.

“Gods—fuck, she’s so tight,” he sounds in pain, his nails digging in more harshly into your flesh as Megumi struggles to withhold his orgasm. It’s useless, moments after your own crashes down, he’s spilling into you, thick spurts of cum filling your womb as you groan and lay limp in Satoru’s arms.

Megumi recovers faster than you though, kissing your tired sweaty face as you blearily stare up in a daze.

He finds it cute.

Satoru does too. Happy to simply pull you up under your arms like a rag doll and position over his lap and against his chest.

“I can’t—a-anymore, no more—,”

“Poor thing. Has no one told you it’s good to push your limits? I think you can. Should we see who is right?” Your pleading look is lost on Megumi who merely pats your hair down, face serene as he watches you. Satoru gives you no time to recover before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you.

“No cryin’ now, I let Meg stretch you out good n’well, I don’t want any tears unless they’re from how good I’m fuckin’ you.” His grin is sinful as he lets gravity sink you on his cock, the low light of the candles on the wall giving the illusion of sunset across his pale pretty features.

“O-oh!” Satoru snickers a laugh as you moan in startled shock. His words not a lie as he stretches you out in a different way. Where Megumi had been thick and curved, Satoru was much longer, hitting so deep it felt like the air was knocked from your lungs. It was enough a surprise to have you holding onto him, making the white haired Gladiator coo at you.

“Look at you~,” he’s not gentle as he bounces you on his cock. “Am I just so deep in this pussy? She seems to like how I fill her out, she’s just gushin’ all over me.” He holds onto the fat of your ass, hands spread wide to help anchor and rock you as he thrusts up. “Stay awake, pretty girl, remember what I told you? Eyes on me.” It’s difficult to concentrate on his husky voice when it seems he’s intent on breaking you, each time his shaft struck deep inside you swore your vision blurred. This wasn’t the slow overwhelming pleasured pain forced on you by Megumi… this was just rough sloppy sex with a maniac. Nevertheless, you do as told as try to keep your eyes open and on Satoru. His gaze didn’t waver like yours, despite the sweat sliding down his cheek, he never lost his arrogant smile or sparkle in his eyes.

A stark contrast to the lax expression you wore, lips parted and wet as you struggle to even swallow as you tearily moan like a whore in a brothel for these Gladiators using you like a sex toy. Your fucked out face and impending orgasm are what send Satoru over the edge. When your soft warm pussy creams around him and your eyes cross, Satoru can’t help but nearly whimper as his balls draw up tight and he fills you up along with Megumi’s earlier load.

The dark haired male seemingly content to watch or occasionally praise and pet sweetly while Satoru savagely used you.

It’s over, it must be over, you think as Satoru pulls out of you slowly with a soft pop, lifting you up and off to the side to lay you down. You can feel their combined releases leak down your thighs, soft hiccups escaping you as you catch your breath and come down from the intense high.

You feel nearly hollow as both men stand and begin loosely dressing, holstering their weapons back into their bodies as they prepare to simply leave.

It hurts worse despite all else.

“Pretty girl looks heartbroken Meg, should we stay?”

“Not when he’s coming back from a match, we need to meet with the Emperor before he goes back to the Palace.” Megumi shakes his head, his gaze softening when it lands on you.

“We’ll be back in a few hours, be good.”

They’re gone after those words, and while your heart filled with fury and humiliation, your eyes burned with sadness and something akin to loneliness. Just as you’d finished wallowing in self pity, ready to pull yourself together again and clean up both yourself and the mess made, the door opens again.

Both of you freeze, though for different reasons.

Toji froze because he’d forgotten he’d had you sent here, and you froze because a monster was standing before you.

Your scream is muffled before it leaves your lips, one single palm covering nearly your entire face as Toji looms over you in his full arena battle armor, the black intricately designed metal dripping crimson as he drops his weapon to the ground with a clang.

“Non’a that shit. Hear me, girl?” You nod weakly to show you listened.

Once he was sure you weren’t planning to scream his ears off more than the crowds already did, he released you and took another look.

Cute and well fucked is his first appraisal. He briefly recalls Megumi telling him his wish to have you, so it’s not strange his kid had jumped on his new slave so quickly. The marks littering you were likely that asshole’s doing, his kid too soft to be anything but be sweet towards the object of his affection. Toji briefly considered getting paid for his services tonight, but he was tired, and you looked fresh enough still.

“They fuck you good?” His question brought a baffled look to your face, amusing him as he begins unfastening his ties and removing his armor. You stay awestruck before him as he slowly sheds his persona in the arena, his laid back rugged appearance quite handsome up close as he towers over you with both height and brawn.

“M-master—,” you would either be killed or sold, there’s no way—

“You think you can handle me too?”

You stand nude before your new master still dripping the cum of his son and peer, and he asks if he can have a turn too?

“Yeah. I think you can.” He answers himself in your state of shock, and despite the sweat and blood coating him, he’s unabashed as he strips naked and corrals you back onto the bed.

“M-master please, I-I need to clean up! A-and sh-should run you a bath!” You were grasping at straws, frantically trying to escape the beastly male now licking his lips with a smirk, the scar in his mouth tugging up. You make the mistake of looking down, only to see the monster he contained beneath his armored belt.

Why was it so big? The girth alone frightened you, his length even longer than Satoru’s too, the veins running along the enormous shaft made your poor slick cunt still dripping cum clench. He’d break you. There’s not a doubt in your mind as you crawl away, his advance never slowing as he chuckles at your display.

“I don’t see why ya can’t clean after, hn?” He descends like a wolf to prey, easily pinning you down on your back, slotting his body between your thighs and forcing them open painfully wide to accommodate his size. “Don’t even need’t prep, still drippin’ huh?” He smiles, lazily grabbing his heavy appendage and lubricating himself through your folds.

“P-please master, it won’t fit—hah!” Your cry of shock only makes him sink faster and deeper into you, pressing and forcing himself into your cunt which protests the weighty thick invasion of the older male above you. He smells like the earth, like soft dirt and grass, metallic like copper, and sweat. Toji watches as your back arches further and further up, the sharp angle not looking entirely pleasant but it pushes your bust up for him to lean over and capture a perky nipple to suckle on, his teeth grazing the tip and groaning as your cunt spasms around him.

“Never understand why women say it won’t fit,” Toji mumbles against your saliva covered tit, strings of it still connected to his mouth as he casually addresses you despite pulling out and making you feel like he’s going to take your insides with it. “Y’can push a baby through here, my cock isn’t as big as that.” Not the point, but you’re too feverish to pay attention any longer as he begins sliding in easier and easier as the combined releases from earlier lube his cock to fuck you.

He sees the strain on your face, the shaking of your thighs and the tears leaking down your cheeks again. Generously, Toji lifts up under both your knees and hoists you higher, holding your lower half up and allowing himself to slide deeper. The girlish squeal you release only has his hips snapping harder, working his cock in as deep as he can, feeling the stress of the day melt in your soft tight pussy. He grunts as you cum, mouth open as drool escapes down your chin, cute wet moans so soft and breathy as you shudder and gasp.

“That feel good?” He smiles, the dopey expression on your face too cute for him not to bend down and capture your lips this time. Sucking and nibbling on your lips till they’re swollen before he delves his tongue into your hot mouth, his tongue taking up too much space until you’re squirming for air. He denies you it, swirling around your own pink appendage while rocking you with each thrust, rolling his hips expertly until your eyes are going crossed and you’re meeting his thrusts with your own. When your hands move to touch him, he restrains them, curling his much larger hands around your own and putting them beside your head while he presses you up and down into a mating press.

“Oh gods,” you can only cry for mercy, begging for more or less you aren’t sure, as he languidly pumps his cock into you until you don’t know up from down.

“No gods here girl, just this fucking tight little cunt y’got here, beggin’ f’another load.” You can’t even shake your head, in fact you find you wouldn’t mind it, the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you. He’s pressed you down so well you can’t even wiggle your hips, only moan and whine waiting for him to speed up, to fuck you harder.

He doesn’t. Just keeps the same steady pace and rhythm, balls slapping your ass at the same time, slimy and wet with all the mixed fluids your cunt has forced out by Toji’s invasion. Toji ignores your nonverbal cues for more, smirk still the same as he even occasionally grinds in deep to watch your eyes widen and lips part. The soft squishy leaking tip of his cock continuously smushing up against the soft barrier of your cervix, ready to spill his load and fill your womb.

“Master~” you begin to lose it completely, arching up as well as you can to press your chest to him, “Harder! Please fuck me! Please, harder please—,” a mindless chant for more, just a little more, to push you into that crest of euphoria where you crave to be again.

Who is he to deny such cute lewd begging?

Toji laughs, grin bared like a wild animal as he leans even more weight down on you before picking up his pace, pounding you into the mattress while your eyes roll back into your skull and you scream your impending orgasm. It hits you so hard you pass out for a moment, vision completely darkening as waves of pleasure engulf you.

Toji spills his load not long after, groaning deep in his throat as he releases as deep into you as possible, hips stilling and locking against your groin to ensure your cunt doesn’t waste a drop.

“Hey,” you’re too out of it, as he taps your cheek and only receives a blissed out smile and clouded vision. Just as he prepares to pull out and give himself a minute before fucking you again, his door opens.

“Boo~! You stretched her poor pussy out with that thing. I wanted to play with it again.” Satoru whines, blue eyes narrowed in childish petulance.

“Shut up, brat.” Toji rolls his eyes, cocking a brow at Megumi who moves silently around to check on you. His small smile at the pretty expression you wore grew, looking so fondly down at you it made Toji’s teeth ache.

“Hey~ Meg, you gonna use her? Otherwise I will~” Satoru begins undressing shamelessly, Toji’s exasperated glower ignored as the white haired male joins them in bed, tapping his hard cock on your puffy slick lips, letting you taste his salty precum.

“Fucking brats.” Despite his words, Toji feels his cock hardening again inside your warmth, giving a few short hard thrusts into your cunt to fully harden. He grips your hips and rolls so you rest on his chest, digging his fingers into the fat of your ass and spreading your cheeks for the two younger males to see.

“She’s got another hole that can be filled.” Toji grunts, beginning a slow a pace sensual pace inside you, more rocking than actual thrusts as you mewl against the hard planes of his chest. Satoru shivers, licking his lips as he brings his face down to where your puckered back entrance rests untouched. He’s unbothered by Toji’s thick cock spreading your pussy open, opening his mouth and letting his tongue prod your ass while you jolt and tremble in Toji’s hold.

“Easy girl, ain’t gonna hurt.” He mumbles, roughly petting your hair while you turn your face away to look back, only to feel fingers gently tangle in your hair.

“Here,” you’re being fed more cock, Megumi’s leaking swollen tip smearing his fluids across your closed lips until they open and he can plunge into your mouth’s warm depths with a moan. Your mind slowly goes blank again, the earlier feeling of panic fading as Satoru plays with your ass, using your own cum as lube and spreading it over the hole before playfully pressing his thumb into the tight space.

You moan around Megumi’s cock, the shaft sinking deeper into your throat while Toji fucks you a little faster, feeling you tighten with Satoru’s intrusion.

They play like that for a while, slowly speeding up before becoming languid again, turning you into a soft wet mess in their hold as Satoru finally lines his cock up with your free hole, groaning loudly as he fails to press inside. A sharp slap to your ass tears you free from your bliss, the pain biting but making the pleasure stand out more as Satoru looks at your hole in irritation. “Hey, sluts should just relax, let me in,” he complains, slapping your ass again and making you do the opposite and tighten.

“Shit, tight fucking pussy,” Toji moans, moving you up and down his shaft faster while Satoru tries again, spitting on his dick lewdly and pressing the tip back at your hole, hips driving forward and finally breeching. “Ngh—!” Satoru nearly cums on the spot, feeling the tight ribbed walls of your ass strangling his cock as he spears you open.

You’re so full it’s unbelievable, head empty and completely blank while feeling two thick cocks open you up while Megumi continues to fuck your mouth.

You can’t say a word, only feel as Satoru sets the pace while Toji helps rock you back and forth. With your hips occupied with Toji’s hands, Satoru instead wraps his long slender fingers around your neck, dragging you away from Megumi, loose enough for you to breathe but tight so he can draw you up against his chest as he drives into your tight sphincter with short jerky thrusts, lips pressed against your ear as he groans low in his throat. Megumi stands, perfect height with you lifted like this to comfortably slip his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, the slow clapping of skin and trembling movements, no one wanting this to end too soon while you writhe and jerk in their hold as they use you.

“I think you like being our little whore, huh?” Satoru whispers in your ear like a demon. “Feeling us all fill your filthy holes, making you our pretty slut to fuck however we want.” He’s so deep inside you, hips flush with your ass he stretches you on his cock, the thin skin separating him and Toji continuously stretched and rubbed from inside. A mess of fluids coated you all from below, so much so it was all wet squelching and moans from the languid movements of the gladiators. “Bet you’d like it if we just chained you up to fill all your holes, right Princess?” His condescending tone is lost on you as you feel your lower belly tighten painfully, the fullness becoming more evident as you get closer to your end.

“Don’t tease her,” Megumi huffs, looking fondly at Satoru with a hint of exasperation. “She’s being so good, taking all of us so well,” he feels you swallow around his rod, eyes fluttered closed as he thrusts into your mouth. “We should reward her.”

Toji chuckles, knowing exactly what the two were up to.

“Oh~? How should we reward our little cum Princess then?” You stutter as you feel Toji shift his hand and press down on your belly, body shaking as your eyes watered. Your hands were useless trying to push him away, only feeling his cock twitch and flex inside of you while he smiled.

“She looks close, should help her finish.” Megumi huffs, his own end nearing as you slobber and choke on his cock.

“Hmm~ guess I’ll be nice, this time,” he breathes the last bit in your ear threateningly, but the seductive undertone has you shaking in a way that isn’t from fear. Satoru releases one hand from around your throat to dip down until he can swirl his finger around your swollen sensitive clit. It’s already covered in slick, easily letting him press and grind down, feeling you buck and moan in their grasp beautifully.

“You gonna cum Princess? All over our cocks?” Satoru has you clutched close as he fucks you, helping forcing you down on Toji’s cock while you groan around Megumi’s length. “Cum for us, let us ruin you.” It’s like he’s a prophet for the Gods, because when you do cum, you do feel ruined. Megumi’s hips stutter as you gluck and allow his cock even deeper, his balls drawing tight as he floods your throat with his cum.

Satoru and Toji cum shortly after, grunting and moaning their own finishes while you’re cradled limply against Toji’s chest now, eyes unfocused as you’re filled again and again.

Your dreams provide you with sweet relief, as you’re left unconscious in Megumi’s arms as he cleans you in a warm bath he’s pulled and heated.

“No fun~ she looked cuter covered in cum.” Satoru grins, but his smitten expression isn’t missed by Megumi who shakes his head with a smile.

“She won’t sleep good like that.” Is all he says, gently washing you clean and drying you off to take to bed. The bed Toji hardly ever uses now occupied by four occupants.

Toji watches in silence as you’re laid down, Megumi calmly sliding in while Satoru flatly lays at the bottom of the bed.

“Sure you want her?” Toji asks as the silence descends on them all.

Megumi’s dark gaze flicks up to his father.

“Hmph, acting like you don’t?” He challenged back, only to be met with a smirk and a heavy hand landing on top his head, making Satoru cackle.

You awake clean and warm, with a new pristine silver chain wrapped around your ankle and chained into the stone wall.

Satoru wasn’t kidding.

Dividers by @benkeibear

If you liked this, please reblog!♡ It is what sustains me, well, coffee too but reblogging is the dominant factor—

[activesplooger]

I have a special request if you’re up for it

summary: you and Adam have this mutual attraction towards each other, but the main reason you won’t take the first step is because you know how high his sex drive is, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem if you weren’t so vanilla. You liked tenderness, praise, gentle touches, and you just don’t entirely trust him to be very accommodating.

do with this what you will, please and thank you

thanks for the request! this prompt was amaze! <33

sorry it took so long for me to do this its been a hectic week (america core)

hope you like how this turned out :]

__

You and Adam were... complicated, to say the least. Having been friends with Eve, you've heard all about his "inadequacies" in Eden. You thought he was this vile, cocky, arrogant asshole with no redeeming qualities. And then you met, and yeah that's pretty accurate. But, alas, there was an instant attraction.

Eve took you out a few weeks ago to a party hosted by Heaven's elite, a party you'd usually never attend on account of being a lower class angel. So many of Heaven's highest powers were there: seraphims, arch angels, virtues- and the first man himself, Adam. Eve scoffed as he approached, the colossal angel striding up with a cocky grin.

He was beautiful; rugged features, a messy fluff of hair, a nice smile- truly the man. For a moment, you were infatuated... and then he had to open his mouth. The cocky angel bends down to meet face to face with you, "Eve, who's the babe?". Eve rolls her eyes, "No, Adam.". "Fuck do you mean "No"," He says in a mocking voice.

Straightening his posture, he scoffs, his full stature towering over yours. "I mean no, you're not gonna 'cum 'n go' with this one," she asserts sternly. "Cum and go?" he feigns innocence, "I would never-". Before he could finish his sentence, Eve cuts him off, "Adam, I've told her everything about you and us, she's smarter than to get with someone like you". He groans, "Ugh! God dammit! You're such a cock-block Eve!".

Eve's head snaps to the entrance of the party, watching as a tall blonde woman walks in. "Lillith!" she exclaims, beginning to walk in her direction. Shit, was she gonna leave you with this dickhead? You grab her arm and pull her back to you, "Don't you dare leave me-". She smiles softly and chuckles, "C'mon, you're smart enough not to fall for his crap. You can deal with him for a few minutes, I'll be back before you know it!". "But-" you try to protest but she had already strode halfway across the room. Pivoting back towards Adam, your once again met with his smug gaze.

"So," he steps closer to you, "this party blows. I get cock blocked and both my ex-wives show up? Lame.". He grabs you chin and lifts it, "Wanna get out of here?". "What? No!" you respond, a bit offended at the implication. Adam removes his hands off you and holds them up in a gesture of surrender, "Alright, sugartits. Heard you loud and clear. Guess I'm just gonna go and leave you allll alo-". He turns around and pretends to leave, trying to coerce you into leaving with him. "Wait!" you call out. Eve was the really the only other person you knew and she had left and you hate being alone.

He turns on his heels slowly to face you, the ever-present smug look plastered on his face, "Oh? What was that?". You huff and avoid eye contact, "Fine. Let's gooOOOO-". He grabs you by the arm before you an continue and yanks you along as he shoves through the crowd of angels. Usually, this isn't your thing. But, you naively figured you guys would just make out behind the building or something for a bit.

And just like you had thought, Adam takes you out back and presses you against the wall, crashing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. It took you a minute to adjust to his feverent pace, trying to match the same energy that he put into his embraces. His tongue invades your mouth, pushing its way past your lips without permission. Entangling his tongue with yours, soft moans escape your lips.

His hands snake their way under your shirt, kneading your breasts through your bra softly. Okay, this was escalating really fast- As he goes to undo your bra clasp, you pull back and try to pry his arms off you. You chuckle nervously, "Uh let's maybe slow down a bit...". He looks back with his eyebrow quirked up, a confused look on his face,"Huh? What do you mean "too fast"?".

The angel chuckles in a taunting manner, "Wait? What'd you think we were gonna do back here?". "I-I don't know, make out?" you reply. "Look, Babe, I'm looking to screw," he pokes a finger between a hole he made in his hand while wiggling his eyebrows, "I'm not here to share feelings or snuggle. Got it?". He leans in for another kiss but you stop him by pressing the palm of your hand to his lips, "Yeah, I'm gonna pass.".

Adam scoffs and pulls back, crossing his arms over his broad chest arrogantly, "Fine, your loss anyway.". "Bye, Adam," you say with a sigh as you walk away. "Fine, bitch," he mutters.

__

Since that day, you and Adam have had many encounters, each one identical to the last. He'd hit on you, you'd reject him, and he'd act clueless as to why. Although the attraction is surely there, it would never work between the two of you. Adam's high sex drive could never work for your vanilla self, and there's no way in Hell Adam would ease up on fucking for even a day, let alone for the duration of a relationship. Besides, it's not like he's looking for anything serious.

One day, you run into Adam again in the promenade. The two of you get to talking, laughing, flirting - the usual. He makes and advance, and you reject him, just like every other time. But this time, he snaps. The angel throws his hands up in the air, "I don't fucking get it! You always do this shit!". "Heheh, oh Adam I'm just gonna flirt with you and then totally leave you high and dry! Hehe!" he says, mocking your voice. "That's really what you think I'm doing?" you narrow your eyes at him. He scoffs, "Oh be fucking real! You're such a tease!". "A tease? You're just pissed because I don't want to fuck you!"

He looks at you incredulously, "Do you know how insane you sound?!". "Are you serious? Whatever, I'm out," you turn to walk away. He grabs your forearm and effortlessly pulls you back to face him, "Excuse me? Did I say we were fucking done here?". You try to pry your arm away from him, however, it's pointless against his relentless grip, "Let go, Adam.". "No," he states firmly, hand engulfing your arm tightly, "I wanna know why you're rejecting me.".

You exhale sharply and run a hand down your face in exasperation, "Look, you're a nice- well- you're and okay guy, Adam. We have good chemistry it's just...". "It's just what?" he questions roughly. "It's just that your sex drive is so fucking high! I don't want that, I wan't a relationship with love and tenderness-". "That's fucking dumb," he interrupts. "Exactly! We want different things, so let me go!".

Adam's eyes widen, shocked at the thought of you leaving, "What? No! I can be tender! I prommy! C'mon give me a chance.". "Pft," you chuckle, "not falling for that.". "Falling for what? I can be a real fuckin' romantic!".

"Yeah, right," you chuckle, unconvinced by his promises. "Babe," he grabs your smaller hands in his large one, "one date, that's all I ask! And if it doesn't rock your world then you'll never hear from me again.". You hesitate for a moment. Never hearing Adam's nagging sounds great, plus he'd probably take you out somewhere nice... A heavy sigh escapes your lips, "One date. Somewhere nice, bring flowers.".

"You got it, sugartits!"

__

Adam followed up on his promise. He texted you to be ready at 5 tomorrow and wear something nice. You didn't know where he would be taking you, he'd simply state that "its a surprise".

The following day, the clock struck 5 and you immediately heard a knock on the door. Swinging the door open, Adam leaned against the door frame with the biggest bouquet of flowers your've ever seen. "These are for you, obviously," he holds out the extensive amount of flowers to you. Taking them in your hand, you examine the flower choice, "Jonquils and white roses, fitting.". "Oh really I hadn't noticed," he mutters, feigning innocence.

"Uh huh," you eye him up and down, surprised at his formal attire. He ditched the robe, instead, he dawned a white suit with lavender and gold accents akin to his usual robe colors. Though, he still wore his exterminator mask. The angel notices your gaze on him and wiggles his eyebrows, "Like what you see?". "Could be better," you state flatly. He scrunches his eyebrows, an offended look on his face, "Better? How?!". Reaching out, you lift the mask off him, "Much better, now I can actually see you.". He turns his head away bashfully, muttering, "yeah, okay, whatever," under his breath as his face heats up.

__

The two of you arrive at the destination, a beautiful garden-esque restaurant that's completely cleared out. "Woah, this is gorgeous," you state, in awe at the scenery. A cocky grin spreads across Adam's face, "Like it? Being the first man has its perks, I had the whole place cleared out just for us.".

"Its, wow," you walk in further, admiring the set up. The restaurant's walls are covered in vines and flowers, fairy lights hanging from beamed ceiling. A dim glow casts around place, a surprisingly warm atmosphere in the cold outside air. Adam grabs your waist gently and guides you to your table. Roses pave the walkway to your seating, waiters on standby holding wine. Adam pulls your chair out for you to sit, pushing your chair in for you once your sat.

"I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised at this," you state. "Oh yeah?" he smirks, "told I could be romantic and shit.". You take a sip of your wine and chuckle, "Well, your doing a great job of it so far.". "Oh, yeah?" Adam leans in and whispers in a husky low tone, "how good? Good enough to give me a thank-you-fuck after?".

"Nope," you reply flatly. "God damn it!" he throws his hands up in the air in frustration. You laugh and check the time on your phone, "Look at that, you lasted an hour without bringing up sex! That's your best record.". He scoffs, a soft smile involuntarily spreading across his face, "Yeah whatever, fuckin' prude.". __

You two share a nice dinner, the food was phenomenal and the conversation was pretty good. Getting to know Adam was actually interesting, at least for the parts he would open up about. He pays for the meal and leads you outside, the cool air causing you to shiver. Adam kindly offers his jacket out to you. "Thanks," you grab the jacket and slide it over your shoulders, the oversized fabric offering extra warmth across your body.

You take his hand as you walk through the streets of heaven, the action taking him by surprise for a moment. He regains his composure and intertwines his fingers with yours tightly, pulling you to his side.

The walk back to your place is comfortably quiet, just the two of you enjoying the calm atmosphere. Once you arrive to your place, you stand by the door as you say your goodbyes, "Tonight was really fun, Adam.". You move closer to him, expecting a kiss from him before you part ways.

He avoids eye contact, not responding to you, an uncharacteristically shy demeanor suddenly creeping up. "Adam? Helloo?" you try to get his attention by waving your hands in front of him, yet, you get no response. Exhaling sharply, you grab his face and force him to make eye contact with you, "Are you gonna kiss me or what?!".

"I'm trying but now you've got me all weird and nervous!" he finally says, his face now beet red. "Me?! It's not like we haven't kissed before," you respond defensively. "Not like this! It didn't mean anything before," he trails off, his words getting softer. He sighs, running a hand down his face, "Nobody meant anything before, but you do. And now I'm getting all sappy and gross, can't even fucking kiss you without feeling all anxious and shit! See what you do to me?! I shouldn't have ever-". Reaching up on your tippy toes, you cut him off with a soft kiss. He shuts his eyes and leans into it, wrapping his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss. His eyebrows knit together, focused on the tender moment before him.

You try to pull back from the kiss to get some air, however, Adam whines and pulls you back in. Chuckling against his lips, your hands run through his soft brown locks of hair. He trails his lips down to your neck where he nuzzles into you, holding you in a firm embrace. "Don't even think about telling people about this," his says, words muffled against your neck.

"'Bout what? You being a big sap?" you tease. "Shut the fuck up," he mutters. "I'm kidding!" you chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder to see him, "I hope we can do this again sometime.". The angel smiles softly, pulling away from you and standing up straight, "I'll see you soon then. Night.".

"Night."

He walks away from your doorstep, occasionally looking back at you to make sure you got in okay, already planning your next date in his head the whole way home.

The End <3 __

i love this prompt!!! very me core. i know i talk my freaky lil shit on here but im all talk. im very touch averse unless your on my mentally approved list of people that can touch me, and yet my love language is physical touch or something idfk guys anyway im gonna stop rambling

anyWHOOO, Jonquils and white roses have cute lil flower meanings btw :]

Jonquils: rebirth, new beginnings, and hope

White Roses:  loyalty, purity, and innocence

all the things adam was trying to come off as lol

to requester: thanks for the prompt darling! :]

[morphean42]

I recently saw a post that said Charles doesn’t have anger issues, just trauma, and something about it rubbed me the wrong way. The point they were making was valid-ish, how anger isn’t the core part of his character and his anger comes from how messed up his childhood is, but the way they said it painted anger as this evil and vile thing, which is incredibly harmful to people who do struggle with it.

No, Charles’ trauma is not his core, but it does make up a large part of how he interacts with life (death). Anyone who has been through a lot of trauma will tell you that it colours every aspect of your life, and it takes time to work through it. Charles’ anger is not a bad thing, he should be allowed to be angry to let out everything he keeps inside, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t struggle with that anger.

He grew up in a violent household, that affects someone. He has a complicated relationship with anger, and that means he pushes it down until he snaps. That’s an anger issue. That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, he’s probably the kindest person in the show (besides maybe Niko).

Anyway, I mean no hate to the person whose post I saw, I just felt the need to address it. Our society treats anger as if it is an evil trait (see Edwin’s reaction. That was extreme, he says. That’s how people view anger, and it’s wrong), and to see Charles struggle with his anger issues but ultimately be such a good person is very gratifying for those of us that also struggle in similar ways. Maybe someone smarter than me can put it better, but I needed to get this out.

Charles Rowland has anger issues, and that’s okay

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝐿𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝒪𝒻 𝒜𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝒾𝓇 ༻

Raphael

Summary: Raphael returns to his boudoir only to discover that you’ve lost his child, and it wasn’t from natural causes. His rage spirals when he finds it was due to a fellow follower of his…

Notes: I suck at summaries But I loved how this turned out so I hope you do as well!!!

Pairings: Raphael × f!Tav/Reader

• Hurt I Angst I Miscarriage | Ascended Raphael | Raphael Gets His Revenge

Ao3

As Raphael returned to his domain, an unsettling sight awaited him in the heart of his boudoir. There, amidst the opulence, was Haarlep, his personal incubus, cradling you in their arms within the large bath. Raphael's eyes scanned the water, a macabre blend of red and clear, tainted by the presence of blood. His gaze then shifted to his beloved little mouse, your hair clinging to your face, your skin glistening with sweat, and your breath laborious as your eyes remained closed.

But it was the sight of the tiny wrapped figure beside you on the bath’s edge, drenched in blood, that sent Raphael's rage spiraling to new heights. He didn't need to uncover it; he knew within his very core that his heir, his precious child, had been stolen away. With such a great loss, for the first time in centuries, his heart felt heavy.

"What happened?!" Raphael's voice seethed with malice, his clenched fist emphasizing his anger. Haarlep, usually insolent but now treading carefully, moved away from you and gently positioned you against the steps of the bath, ensuring some comfort. Approaching Raphael, Haarlep’s concealed their voice in a whisper so that you couldn’t hear, "It would seem that your dear tav has gone and lost your little pup-," Haarlep began, only to be interrupted by a warning glare from Raphael, “The lady of the house has miscarried," The incubus finally confessed.

Raphael's rage intensified, his words laced with venom, "I see that, you insolent creature! How did this come to pass?!" Aware of the consequences should they misstep, Haarlep treaded carefully, knowing their fate might just mirror Hope's in the basement.

In a snap, Haarlep summoned a cup, presenting it to Raphael. "Korilla brought this to my attention. A glass of deceit, a venom ever so sweet. It's tainted with juniper." Seizing the cup, Raphael brought it to his nose, confirming the presence of the insidious poison. It dawned on him that an intruder had violated his sanctuary, contaminating his precious little mouse, with this abhorrent act. Even as a devil, he recoiled at the thought of snuffing out the life within a mother's womb. This transgressor would pay a heavy price, both their soul and flesh, as Raphael vowed to exact a merciless retribution upon them.

It only took a couple of hours, but Raphael manages to track down the culprit, Korilla, once a cherished follower, always by his side. Yet, for reasons unknown, she had chosen to betray him in the most vile of ways… As Korilla returned to his domain, Raphael awaited her, leaning casually against a pillar, his arms crossed in a display of controlled dominance. His face, seemingly normal, concealed the depths of his wrath. When she finally approached, he began to circle her like a predator sizing up its prey, his gaze never wavering.

“Tell me, dear Korilla, how was your day?”

Her voice was filled with falsehoods, twisting a tale to make it seem as if though she were gathering clients for him.

"Ah, ah," Raphael interjected, his tone laced with a sadistic delight. "The truth is far greater than that feeble lie of yours." His features twisted with a mix of disgust and fury, his nose scrunching in disdain. And in a snap of his fingers, the very cup from which you had sipped appeared before them.

"Justify this to me! Why I stumbled upon what is undeniably my possession, nestled within the grasp of Haarlep, grieving for the loss of my own flesh and blood? The stillbirth, wrapped in a cloth stained with the taint of blood!” He condemned her for the atrocious deed, declaring, "You invaded my sanctuary, forcefully snatching away my child from the very womb that belongs to me!”

Korilla stood her ground, her calm demeanor unwavering. "I did this for your own sake," she asserted. "That mortal was tainting your path to becoming the next ruler of the Nine Hells. I'm sorry, but it needed to be done."

“You thought you were acting in my best interest, did you?" Raphael's scowl shifts to a smile, "Your feeble attempt to protect me has only sealed your fate."

Korilla trembled, her once defiant spirit now reduced to a mere flicker of fear. She had underestimated the power and ferocity of Raphael's love for you, and now she would pay the price for her treachery. But even in the face of imminent punishment, a spark of hope ignited within her, "Raphael, you cannot blame me for this," Korilla pleaded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "I did what I believed was necessary to protect you, to protect House Hope.

Flames consumed him, "Your time has come to an end, Korilla,” Raphael growled, his voice resonating with a deep, otherworldly tone. "But fear not, for your sister shall keep you company as I flay you and adorn my abode with your entrails.”

As his true form emerged. He transformed into a monstrous fiend with wings unfurling from his back, a tail lashing behind him, and a wild mane of fire cascading around his head. His once simple horns morphed into a complex crown of infernal bone, framing his snouted face. Two additional faces erupted from his cheekbones, giving him a total of four menacing, orange eyes. His entire being radiated with the glow of infernal flame, and fearsome tusks jutted forth from each of his mouths.

Raphael approached, his towering figure casting a haunting shadow over Korilla. His claws extended, glinting ominously in the flickering light. He reached out, his talons grazing her trembling skin, causing her to shudder in fear and anticipation. With each touch, a searing pain coursed through her body, a mere taste of the agony that awaited her.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Four and the wind mage

Fanfic prompt: all good things are three , right

Vaati has one attempt left at reincarnation before it becomes cringe worthy like ganondorf

So what if after the Dead Sea flooded Hyrule

The four sword started rusting under the salty and toxic water (the great sea canonically houses no fish and the Zora left it because it was not inhabitable and became rito)

And almost 200 years later it broke down allowing Vaati who has collected his magic for years to cast one last spell to restore him back to his hylian form

But during it he accidentally or willingly erased his memories because hyrule was gone and presumably his only way to seek revenge because the four sword heroes are all dead and the hero spirit gone

And then hylia decides on a vile yet beautifully ironic joke one last time

And he is reborn as a child named link from Outset Island and also part of the bloodline of the hero he swore to destroy

But his ability to control the wind remains and when link's little sister gets kidnapped by a mysterious bird he takes his ancestor's shield to get her back

As the hero of the wind

When link found himself in the final battle against ganondorf he was filled with rage and not just for his sister

He felt a rage that compelled him to fight back to seek vengeance for something he didn’t even understand

As he pierced the skull off the enemy all he felt was satisfaction

A satisfying feeling off revenge and freedom

He would not sympathize with the man even when he could understand the desperation

Something in his very core was finally avenged something he didn’t even understand

When linked universe happens :

Four meeting the chain and a hero of the winds : calm but confused

Four seeing wind use the exact same wind magic as a particular wind mage : heavy breathing

Four realizing that wind has quite a few personality traits as a certain wind mage like self confidence and a problem with bad mentorship’s: heavier breathing

Four remembering that Vaati has already reincarnated and decided to infiltrate his bloodline and he just has to deal with a wind mage in his family: :(

Four then for his own peace of mind asks dot for the magic hat and puts it on wind just to no longer awkwardly look at him

When wind changed color palette to match Vaati he decided that he really shouldn’t have done it if there even is the smallest possibility of

A bleached wind with wind magic on steroids

Or

me wondering why the toon time line (the toonline) has both a wind mage as the villain but later also a wind mage with the unsettlingly similar abilities as the hero

Vaati can use mind control which he used to control the knights in both his appearances

Wind also has the ability to mind control people (command melody)

Vaati can create hurricanes

Vaati can also teleport at will

Guess what wind can do so too

[annwrites]

⸻ one in the same. part eleven. ⸻

· pairing: otto hightower x bastardtargfem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you make a confession to otto & see only one way out after all you've done. · tw: suicide attempt, ottocent, talk of incestuous feelings · word count: 2,873

You’ve been…not yourself since the night your husband left for Dragonstone, and you deigned to dishonor him.

You’ve not left your chambers, have hardly eaten, and have spent most of your time either crying or sleeping, a nauseating pit constantly settled into the core of your stomach. 

You finally see yourself for exactly what you are now, even if you refuse to so much as look at yourself in the mirror—you’ve thrown a sheet over the one atop your vanity—a horrid, wretched creature, filled with…revolting desires. Desires that have suddenly burnt out, leaving you feeling hollow in their stead.

Just the thought of sexual intimacy fills you with dread now. 

How could you have done it? How?

Otto had pulled you back from the edge, tended to you, loved you, cared for you, provided for you, and you’ve repaid him with attempted adultery. With incest.

He’ll never forgive you. And you will deserve it. You deserve to be alone after this.

You do not want to tell him, simply because you do not wish to break his heart, but you’ve no other choice. You cannot live with this terrible secret, and he deserves honesty. 

When Otto returns to you, you cling to him. For a long while. 

Tears sting your eyes while bile rises in your throat, but you remain silent as he threads his fingers in your hair.

“I’ve returned to you, my darling. In one piece. You needn’t have worried for a moment.”

You squeeze your eyes shut more tightly, willing this moment to last.

His first day back, and it begins with you shredding his heart in two.

“I need to tell you something,” you whisper.

He leans back, cupping your cheek with furrowed brows. “Are you…”

He glances down, settling a hand gently over your stomach.

How you wish that were the case. Even if you do not desire it, that would be easier to live with than this.

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek, falling from your chin. 

You silently take his hand within your own, leading him over to the settee before the fire, refusing to so much as meet his eyes. 

“I—” You stop, trying to calm your stomach. “You’d been right in being concerned the night you left and I went to my father. Concerned with what I might…do.”

Otto straightens, studying you silently.

He does not speak a word.

“I… He was asleep. I lied to Ser Harrold. Told him I had left a book and was retrieving it.”

You digs the nails from one of your hands into the back of the other. “I was dressed in only a robe. I took it off. I pulled down his sheets and…exposed him to myself. He remained asleep all the while, thank the Gods.”

He’d been so incredibly right in pulling away from you that day. You’d made him uncomfortable, and now you could see why quite clearly. To have done it all without his consent… Vile girl.

“I touched myself,” you say tearfully, your chin wobbling. “With no care for you. For our marriage. I thought of only one person that night: myself. Ever since… I’ve not left our room. I can’t…I can’t even bear the sight of myself now.”

You bury your face in your hands, your body shaking as you sob. “I’m so sorry, Otto! Gods, I’m so sorry.”

He stares ahead into the fire, not so much as giving you a comforting word or touch or gesture.

The only sound which fills the silence is your quiet sobs as you double over, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Finally, he stands without another word, exiting your chambers, and you race to your chamberpot, and vomit.

When Otto returns, it is quite late, and you are already in bed, but not asleep. You can't rest. Not anymore.

Your mind had raced all the while during his absence. 

Will he desire for himself a divorce now? You would not blame him. But he would need seek your father’s permission to obtain it. And what reasoning would he give him?

You know it would not be the truth. 

Otto’s side of the mattress dips under his weight, and he quickly settles into place, keeping a wide berth between the two of you.

You raise a fist to your lips, biting down on it, trying to keep quiet. Not wanting to disturb him with further tears or apologies he doesn’t wish to hear.

You turn slightly, speaking to him over your shoulder. “Do you wish for me to sleep elsewhere?”

There’s a long, silent pause. 

“You may do as you wish,” is his curt reply.

You rise then, padding over to the settee, and you lie down, closing your eyes.

You pray you never wake.

It has been a fortnight since your confession to your husband and you’ve returned to your old ways in that time: sleeping as much as possible, and eating as little as.

You’ve dropped a considerable amount of weight, but it matters little to you. Everything does now. The only thing you can think about is your husband.

Not even the news of your father’s impending marriage to Alicent had interested you, even if it had become clear quite-quickly that Otto had already been aware such arrangements were being made.

Weeks ago, you would've been livid. At all of them. Would've argued relentlessly with with your husband over it all. Enough so that you're sure you would've still driven your marriage to the brink with heated, cruel words as you were driven mad by the prospect of anyone else having your father.

Now, you see that the two of you are not nearly as close as you'd once believed. You'd kept secrets from he, and he from you.

Mayhaps...the two of you were never meant to be to begin with...

The handful of times you’ve tried to touch Otto, he has brushed off the tender gestures. He has not spoken to you unless you’ve done so first, and his replies to you have been minimal in nature.

He hates you now. You know that with certainty. And you understand it completely. 

You deserve it. Deserve…many terrible things, in truth.

The one thing you never did deserve was him.

And so you mean to do the only thing you can. 

You will set him free.

During your last dinner with your husband, you are warm and kind, even if he does not speak to you.

You tell him how you love him. How you will always be grateful for all he’s done for you. How your marriage to him has meant everything to you; had repaired your broken heart. How he is a good, and intelligent, and wonderful man.

He had eventually snapped at you—bidding you be quiet—that he did not wish to hear a further words from your lips.

You’d merely smiled and nodded, and told him ‘of course’ before growing quiet again.

While he is asleep, you write him a short note, ensuring him he should not feel guilty. That if and when he is ready, he should move on with someone worthy of him. That he should never spare you a second thought ever again.

You are easily forgettable; replaceable.

He need merely give it time, and he will soon see.

You seal your letter with a kiss, settling it atop his desk, before silently padding out to the balcony, climbing up, until you are gripping a column, your feet planted atop the railing as you stare down at the stories upon stories beneath you. 

You hope it will be quick. You don’t wish to suffer, but you will understand if you are made to.

Your eyes flutter closed and a cool breeze kisses your skin.

Your heart pounds, because in truth, you are terrified. 

You don’t wish to die…not entirely. Merely because you are afraid of what will come after. But this is the only way. You must do this. For him.

You cannot bear the thought of him being forced to live the rest of his days with a wife by his side which he despises. He’d been right to feel such a way toward you in the first place. 

He should’ve never accompanied you that day to the Sept. Should’ve never given you a moment of kindess. 

You’d not deserved it. Not once.

You solidify yourself—harden your heart—and take a moment to listen to the silence you will soon become a part of.

Maybe you will find peace this way at last.

Something you've never truly had.

“Gods forgive me,” you whisper, ready to let go.

“Don’t!”

Your feet nearly slip from the railing as you turn to look over your shoulder with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I must,” you tell him calmly. “You can let me go. It’s alright now. I do this for you, my love.”

Otto takes a small step closer, quickly wiping tears from his own eyes. “You needn’t do this, Y/N. Please, come down so we may—”

You shake your head, a gentle wind whipping loose strands around your face. “This is the only way. It is the only thing left.”

You turn back around. “I love you.”

Just as you make to step forward, into naught but thin air, strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a sturdy chest.

The two of you collapse into a heap of limbs and tangled clothing on the marble floor of the balcony, while you struggle to get away from him, now a tearful, trembling mess.

“I want to die!” You shout. “Please, just let me! Let me die!”

Otto holds you firmly to himself, refusing to let go for a moment. 

“Please, my darling,” he pleads through tears which threaten to drown him. “We will find another way. I won’t let you. I forgive you. Please, you must forgive me.”

He takes your face in his hands, sobbing at the broken sight of you. 

Even had you not stepped off the balcony…you are nearly on death’s doorstep as-is.

When had you become so incredibly frail? So wan, and wraith-like? Your eyes…when had they grown so empty? 

“I have spent the entirety of your existence making you naught else but miserable. And you think after one instance of…of returning the favor you should pay for the transgression with your life?”

You double over, heaving for breath, rocking back and forth.

“I have to, I have to,” you repeat over and over. "Please, Gods, let me, I beg of you!"

He wraps his trembling arms tightly around you, pressing his wobbling lips to your hair, gently rocking you, desperate to give you comfort.

"I made a vow. A vow to look after your welfare. And instead of doing as much, I indulged your... Your mindset instead. I've naught else to blame but myself. I knew what it would lead to in time. I allowed this to happen."

"I am ill, do you not see?!" You shout, pulling back, shoving against his chest, desperate to finish what you started. "I am broken! Something inside of me—"

You shake your head fervently. "It cannot be fixed! I want it to end! Gods, please, let me do it!"

He takes your face in his hands once more and finally speaks it aloud.

The two of you have for months and months discussed how incredibly the same you are. In this desire, you are no different.

It makes him feel sick to admit it—to put it aloud—but once you hear, once you see that you are not alone, mayhaps this weight you've placed upon yourself to seek out your own punishment by any means necessary will lessen.

"I have desired her."

Your brows furrow. "W-What?"

He grimaces at the name which waits upon his tongue.

"Alicent."

Your eyes grow wide.

"I encouraged her to seek out your father time and again. To...please him. I, in some ways, trained her in the arts of—" He pauses. "Seduction."

You jerk away from him in shock.

"We never—" He mutters a quiet curse. "We were never in congress, if that is your concern. I merely told her ways she might draw him in. Ways you drew me in. I wanted to see her in such a manner. And then I would come to you and..."

You choke back a sob.

He looks at you from under his lashes. "The betrayal was mine first."

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling as if you are staring at a stranger.

He shrugs lightly, grasping for further explanation. "After her mother passed... She looks so like her in certain lights. She reminded me of her, and at times—at times it felt as if I had her back."

A pregnant pause settles into the space between you.

"You have my forgiveness, my love. Might I ever have yours for—"

"Did you?" You ask, looking at him with hollow eyes.

His brows knit together in confusion.

"Love me?"

He comes closer, reaching for you. "With all my heart."

"You saw me as her replacement," you state plainly, scooting away.

"As you did me with him," he states.

"At least I felt guilt. Admitted things to you I... I did not wish to so much as admit to myself. Because you bade me to. Whereas you've been lying to me since the first."

He searches desperately for a reply which will pull you back to him, but finds none to be had.

This cannot be the end. It can't. He won't lose you as well.

The two of you grow silent for a moment.

Otto next speaks.

"It is different, my love. What you feel—or felt—for him... Oftentimes, children's feelings can become...confused, perhaps, when they are young and lonely. But for a parent to look at his own child in such a light?"

His eyes meet yours. "I wished to throw myself upon my own sword at the urges which overcame me. Mayhaps I should have. So much pain may've been avoided then."

You wrap your arms around your knees, continuing to stare at him. "I know not how we return from this. To each other. To ourselves. At the very least, me to myself."

"Do you still want and burn for him?" He asks hesitantly.

You shake your head. "Not since the morn after it happened. In truth, I feel entirely numb. Towards everything. It's frightening. I've never felt this way before. I fear it will never end."

He comes closer, cupping your cheek.

"Do you still feel the same toward her?" You ask.

"Her new engagement, I believe, has changed things in that for me. In terms of how I feel. Her being claimed by him has removed a previous temptation."

You look away, studying the spaces between the small pillars which uphold the balcony's railing. "Mayhaps it's this place. A den of vipers I've heard it referred to as before."

You look at him then, with hope. "What if we left?"

He remains silent, waiting for further elaboration.

"What if we went south, to Oldtown. Or to visit Highgarden? I've always wished to see it. We could go on a sort of campaign... Just the two of us exploring the countryside, and—"

He cups your cheek. "My duties lie here, my love. I cannot abandon my post, so to speak."

You deflate, pulling away.

He comes the least bit closer. "Would that I could. I assure you, darling."

He takes you gently into his arms, holding you close, desperate for you to forgive him.

He presses a firm kiss to your temple. "We made vows that we belong to one another, and we've held true to that, have we not?"

"You don't need to fuck someone to break it," you reply acidly.

He becomes silent at your matter-of-fact reply.

"And I've told you that I forgive you. You tell me you no longer feel as you did toward him? Then I believe you as well. Can you not afford me the same benefit of the doubt in return?"

You clench your hands into fists, at war with yourself.

How can you trust him to mean what he says? You can argue the same toward him with you, but the difference is you've not made a political career out of polishing a silver tongue each and every day, so as to keep it well-honed.

He has.

You'd hardly ever suspected he felt something such as that toward Alicent he'd kept it so well hidden from you.

You do not believe he would ever act on it, no... Nor do you believe he's ever wanted for another.

You glance up to the railing again.

If he did not care, he would've let you fall. Would've not said a word.

But he'd saved you.

Just like he'd done before when it was not his responsibility to do so.

You meet his eyes once more, raising your hand, and it hovers over his cheek.

He braces for the impact of a stinging slap. One he's most sure he deserves.

Instead, you gently settle it against warm, weathered skin.

"I forgive you."

[nonexistentbeanbag]

not at all my usual stuff but can we please take a second to acknowledge how much Trump has ruined…everything??

Long one so please stay with me

Donald Trump has been in or around the oval office since I was 9 years old. Think about that for a second. Donald Trump. Has been in the running for president for a decade. Reality TV personality DONALD TRUMP was and will be the president of the United States of America.

Before Donald Trump politics used to be that, politics. Politicians were advocates for policy they deemed to be in the best interest of America and the American people. They were (for the most part) educated people who cared and wanted to make their mark on the history of the country. They respected one another and at least outwardly, seemed to care about the American people. Presidential candidates got where they were, not only due to charm winning over Americans, but because of their tangible policy that was in the best interest of Americans. They were intelligent and qualified.

Donald Trump is not that.

When was the last time you heard not only Donald Trump, but really any presidential candidate, concede that the opponent they're running against has a good point, or is a good person? When was the last time you heard a presidential candidate respect their opponent as an individual who wants what's best for the country? Odds are, not since 2016 at best.

Reality TV personality Donald Trump ruined the reputation of the POTUS. He fostered a climate and set a precedent where internet "stars" like Mr Beast can say they'll run for president, and we don't laugh at them. We see that as a genuine possibility, and horrifically, them winning is not outside of the realm of possibility. Fucking Kanye can run for president and could win. That's insane. The president is no longer an educated person with ideas for improving the conditions of the people. They don't have to be that anymore. The president just needs to be a big enough personality to gain your attention for their own gain.

Donald Trump ruined the race for president. We don't base people off of their merit anymore. We base president on who is loudest, who most easily gets your attention. Who can make the most baseless, wild accusations and claims, and rally people to their cause that means and advocates for nothing.

Not only has he ruined the position of President, he's ruined the American people.

We can't agree to disagree anymore. He's gathered a significant portion of the population, straight cis whites, and rallied them together against the rest of us. He's somehow managed to regress the education and tolerance of the American people by decades.

The people who voted for him don't fucking understand what tariffs are yet believe his claims that more or higher tariffs will fix the American economy.

"The colored are out to get you. They're trying to make white people a minority in this country" "The gays are shoving their sexuality in our face. It goes against the Bible and the core traditional beliefs of marriage" "Trans people are mentally sick and trying to indoctrinate your kids" "Immigrants don't belong in this country and they're trying to take your jobs and paychecks".

Whether these are his true core beliefs or not doesn't matter. This is what his followers feel and believe, and he does nothing but fan the flame of bigotry and prejudice.

Each of his campaigns have been built off the backbone of intolerance and hate. People want someone to hate, to rally against, and he gives them someone. Everyone. His opponents, his detractors, anyone who dares to criticize or look into his wild claims and shoddy policy.

January 6th is indicative of what modern day America looks like. Politics is no longer about civil disagreement or difference in preferred methods of reaching Americas goals. It's about winning.

"I want my side to win and I'll do whatever vile or immoral thing I have to do to make it happen. No I won't look into my candidates policies and make sure it's sound and aligns with my personal values, I'll take their word for it. Instead, I'll burn ballots, I'll fight strangers, I'll storm the capital, because I have to win." And he encourages all of it, because it gets him support, it gets him votes, it gets him money, and it gets him power.

Donald Trump is not a politician. He is not a president. He is a felon. An assaulter. A criminal. A terrorist.

He is a man with power who wanted more and used the American people to get it.

[wilcze-kudly]

Using the Avatar state scenes as an example and saying this is katara relationship with aang is so vile 🤦‍♂️

https://www.tumblr.com/sunandmoongobrrr/662596151677190144?source=share

Ugh this take again. It honestly always exhausts me to see this because the thing about Aang going into the Avatar state is that it is, at it's core, a defence mechanism. Aang goes into it in life threatening situations, or otherwise, incredibly distressing situations. I've even pointed out its similarities to panic attacks:

Katara is an incredibly empathetic person, and she is able to emphasise with Aang's pain. Because a) she's just that type of person and b) her and Aang share the trauma of genocide and loss.

Katara's interactions with Aang when he is in the Avatar's state aren't based around tempering his anger, but providing comfort and reassurance. It almost seems that Katara just reminding Aang that she is there and that she cares is usually enough to calm him which makes sense. Because, at the core of it, Aang's greatest pain, likely the root of most of his nrgative emotions is that he is the last airbender. His people are dead, have been dead for ages. He is alone, the last of his kind, and it destroys him.

Aang: [To the winged-lemur.] You, me and Appa; we're all that's left of this place. [Looks at the lemur.] We have to stick together.

Enter Katara, who reassures Aang that she is with him, that she cares, that she won't leave him. Because she sees that he is hurting. She hugs him as normal people hug their friend when they are upset, and later, when their relationship is more established, it's just enough for her to make eye contact with him and remind him that she's there.

Katara : Aang! I know you're upset and I know how hard it is to lose the people you love. I went through the same thing when I lost my mom. Monk Gyatso and the other airbenders may be gone, but you still have a family. Sokka and I! We're your family now!

And I truly don't think Katara does this out of a sense of obligation or fear. She does this because she sees her friend, and later, romantic partner, is hurting. And she knows that pain intimately. So she offers her comfort. Of her own free will, because she cares.

Katara : Do you remember when we were at the air temple and you found Monk Gyatso's skeleton? It must have been so horrible and traumatic for you. I saw you get so upset that you weren't even you anymore. I'm not saying the Avatar State doesn't have incredible and helpful power ... but you have to understand ... for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary.

I think the emphasis on "the people who love you" is important here. Katara isn't afraid of the Avatar state itself. She is saddened and scared for Aang, because she knows he is in pain. And he is someone she loves, be that platonically, or romantically.

Side note; I always found it so cool that when Aang went into the Avatar State in the Avatar State episode and wreaked havoc on general Fong's base, Katara, who was literally in the middle of it, remained completely unharmed.

See, the theme with Avatar is that holding onto anger and pain can be incredibly self destructive. We see this, of course, with Zuko, but also with Aang and Katara.

Of course, we're shown how one's anger affects others, but we also see how painful it can be on oneself. Which is a very poignant theme that isn't often explored.

This is what Aang was trying to communicate to Katara in The Southern Raiders. And this is what people like this, who commented under OP's post don't get.

Oh, something crazy? Like for example going against her entire morality and do something she might regret for the rest of her life? That type of crazy? Hell, look at how strongly "The Southern Raiders" ties back to "The Puppetmaster", an episode about a victimised Southern Waterbender driven to near madness by her grief pain, and rage.

Aang isn't stopping Katara from feeling anger, he's trying to make sure she doesn't do something that will weigh on her and compromise her morals and ideals, because he knows how important they are to her.

Aang: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.

Hell, he even supports and believes in her, letting her take Appa and believing she would make the choice right for her. Which she did, in the end.

Aang: I wasn't planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

And no, I don't think he was trying to save face, since he has never had a problem disagreeing with Katara before, for example in the Avatar State episode, where he followed his sense of duty as the Avatar, despite acknowledging and valuing her criticisms of the matter.

Aang and Katara's relationship is one of mutual support, particularly in helping alleviate each others pain, since they are both genocide survivours, both lost a parental figure to the fire nation, both value their cultures and desperately try to perserve them etc.

I think some excellent aymbolism of this can be in how Aang tries to help Katara with her dismay and discomfort around losing her mother's necklace, something she's expressed was very valuable to her due to her loss. First by making a symbollic replacement, and then risking himself by retrieving the necklace from Zuko.

I also genuinely enjoy that in both of these instances, Katara put the necklace on herself? Like it would be so easy to just make a cliche meaningful scene where Aang puts it on her and "proposes" but theres almost something more appealing to me of Katara taking the necklace from Aang and putting it on completely on her own.

Katara does not need Aang to calm her down when she's angry, because, with the exception of the Southern Raiders, her anger is usually benign squabbling which is completely normal 14 year old behaviour. Wheras for Aang, his anger usually rears its head on rare occasions when he's in deep distress.

But Aang is there to comfort Katara, to bolster her confidence, to support her, make sure she's having fun almost whenever she needs it.

These are just a few examples of Aang providing comfort to Katara.

These actions may not be as bombastic and awe worthy as Katara ripping Aang out of a state of deity like power, but they are nonetheless important to Katara and make a big difference.

Aang and Katara's live language with each other is providing comfort, in any way they can. Be it by alleviating anger and pain, making the other feel good about themself, or connecting over the horrific genocides that brutally deprived them of their loved ones. You know, just normal couple things 💗

And this is where I could slander Zutara, but I'll simply tactfully say that Zuko... prioritised things other than Katara's comfort and happiness.

Also, incredibly rich that one of OP's examples of Aang going into the Avatar state out of anger was in the comics. OP neglected, however, to include the scene leading up to this where Aang is extremely calm and nonconfrontational until Zuko grabs Katara and refuses to let go of her despite both Aang and Katara telling him he's hurting her and then attacking Aang after Aang knocks him away from Katara.

Like hun this is not a good look.

And another point I'd like to raise is this persob in the comments who apparently watched the show blindfolded.

why are we still here just to suffer etc etc. Like have you folks even watched the show why do you have beef with a twelve year old who commited the crime of loving a girl his age. If you're that fucking upset about it you can just not have him do that in your mind palace you don't have to pick violence.

Aang is a genuinely amazing character who deserves so much more than what his haters say. It's fine if he's not your fave character I just don't understand why people have to be dicks about it.

Genuinely the only good thing I get from examining this type of bullshit rethoric is that it lets me inspect Kataang more closely and find new things I genuinely love about it.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yandere!Johnny Cage w/Singer! Darling

A/N: I was listening to one way or another by blondie tonight and this came into my head😩 This song was literally just the letters and threats that blondie’s stalker sent to her. She decided to make it into a song to not only put him on blast but to mock him. Ughhh This is so perfectttt!! I hope y’all enjoy this lol. Johnny is such a perfect yandere

Warnings: John Carlton 😵‍💫, toxic and abusive themes

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Song reference—one way or another|blondie

Being in the public eye as a well known singer is wonderful. The fans, the interviews, the money and press are all great and all…that is until you’re trying to discreetly leave your obsessive ex boyfriend.

It was impossible trying to escape him. Every interaction, every address you stayed at and every new phone number you got was eventually leaked to the public and right back into Johnny’s grimy little hands.

For weeks after you initially left, he followed you everywhere. You swore you’ve seen a strangely familiar blonde drive past your friend’s place and wait out in parking lots. Even if it wasn’t him physically and the paranoia was getting the best of you, hundreds of vile letters and messages from Johnny were constantly being sent your way.

A lot of them read about how he was going to “get his hands on you” or how he’d “never stop stalking you and if he can’t find you, he’ll start going after everyone you loved…one by one.”

His threats shook you down to your core. Even the ones that weren’t threatening and were just love letters that declared his devotion were still creepy. He was so far gone and delusional about you. It was so surreal

Ignoring all of his messages was no use because all over social media, magazines and tv was him crying over you. Completely fabricating stories and lies about you. How he claims you’re manic right now and are a danger to yourself, how he just wants you back in his loving arms. Oh how safe you’d be when you get back to him. Bullsh*t

It was so out of control that you kept on the road. Hoping it’d keep him guessing on your next location. You even changed your hair and style to appear unrecognizable to the public. You became more homely looking but that hardly worked and only made things worse. The public started believing him more and more with your changed appearance and new nomadic lifestyle.

Soon your passion for music and lively personality became merely a hollow shell of what it used to be. So consumed by fear and anxiety that you hardly could function….you was terrified for the day he’d inevitably get you.

It wasn’t until months later where his “concern” for you died down and he was in his “moving on” phase, that something switched inside of you. He was on a talk show and the conversation of you came up,

“Yeah…what a shame about Y/N. Once a bright star now a mentally disturbed soul. Oh well, that sucks for her. You can’t help anyone who doesn’t want it. I tried giving her a taste of the high life but obviously some people aren’t destined for greatness like me. Hopefully she’ll make a living off of all the crack though.”

Oh…that dirty bastard. So cocky and self righteous. The only reason why you’re in this predicament is because of him and his trifling actions towards you. From the hours he’d yell and lock you in his room, to the obsessive stalking and threats are all now reduced down to what???…you being some kind of druggie?!

Your fire was back!!

You’ve been silent, trying to let this all blow over so you could finally have some peace again but hell no. You’ve given up everything while he gets to sit all high and mighty like he’s some angel.

He wants to mock you, and make you into some sort of laughing stock?? Give it back to him…harder

Compiling all the letters, texts, emails and voicemails…you’ve decided to come back into the spotlight. And what better way to have a new single that literally is written by the abuser’s incriminating evidence.

The media is excited and eating everything all up …

And for Johnny? Oh that man is lividddd. Oh he’s so freaking pissed. Just listening to a minute of the song he knows exactly what stupid little stunt you pulled.

How dare you put him expose like that and turn the media on him.

You wanna be a cunt…fine…this isn’t over, Y/N.

[silvernightabyss]

“Who says the protagonist's life has to be happy?” - Chapter 1

Yandere Hero x gn!Reader

Isekai, who among us hasn't dreamed of it? Well, get it signed. Try not to throw yourself into the arms of the protagonist as soon as you see him. Remember, you may know everything about him, but he's seeing you for the first time. The thoughts of the protagonist come as a gift.

How many references do you want? Yes.

word count: 2.9k Prologue/Chapter 1

It's been two weeks since you've been in the fantasy world of the novel. Adapting has been difficult, even though you've inherited fragmentary memories of the original owner of the body. The unfamiliar people, surroundings, etiquette, and architecture were very disconcerting. To your shame, you spent your first night sobbing quietly in your room in the temple. The only thing you were probably lucky about was that you weren't a member of the church, just a hired sewist. Given the fact that the high priest was the one who raped Evan, you had no desire to see the man, whose name was Donavan. Make sure you memorize that shithead's name and if you ever summon a demon, sell his soul.

In fact, you hadn't seen him or Evan since you'd been in this world. And while the first pleased you, the second disappointed you. As you learned by asking the servants, Evan and his team were on a quest to destroy one of the demon lords living in a poisonous swamp. This happened at the beginning of the first volume, as you may recall. And what the author thought to add the location of the poison swamp, in all games it was always the most annoying part. Probably because the author was an insufferable evil bastard who drew inspiration from the most annoying things created by human hands. A sudden wave of anger almost ripped the thin fabric in your hands in half. Then you stroked it quickly, as if to comfort it, removing the creases that had formed.

Poor Evan was going to get poisoned by some nasty animal and come back to the temple with a fever for a week. Sad, of course, but nothing that with your level of power you could change. The day after the isekai, you tried a little magic. Find some chakra, mana core, nen or something. But no. All you got was to feel like an idiot for half an hour, huffing and puffing like a pissed-off hedgehog. No transmigrator buffs. No annoying system or divine companion. Nothing. That made you completely powerless to help Evan. It was frustrating, angry, and made you want to bang your head against the wall. Your modern upbringing couldn't allow you to ignore someone else's misfortune. If you worked in the kitchen, you would surely spit in the soups and drinks that are made especially for the High Priest. Unfortunately, those are the only petty thoughts of revenge you could afford.

Part of you just wanted to leave, good thing sewing skills were embedded in your subcortex, and you could find work somewhere else, not in a place where you knew one hero suffered every day. You wince. Thinking about it like that made you feel bad about yourself. It was vile to think of leaving. As the only person with knowledge of the situation, you had to stay and try to help in any way you could. Even if your attempts would be fruitless in the end.

You spent the next two hours diligently embroidering new robes and fixing old ones where the fabric was too worn. Unpleasant thoughts of varying degrees of intrusiveness kept popping into your head, but you studiously ignored them. Their content was something like “To be or not to be”, only your option was “To stay or not to stay”.

After you finished your work, you picked up a pile of robes and went to turn them in to the storekeeper. The temple was beautiful, even to your unassuming eye. The entire continent worshiped the Creator who made the world and the gods they created to help look after the people. In fact, you remembered from the book that the mythology of Evan's world was very interesting. Incredibly written and detailed lore describing events from ancient times to the present day. Some of the knowledge you had already forgotten, but for example you remembered that the Irin continent, where the main story took place, was named after the god's favorite angel.

The central temple of the capital was dedicated to the Creator. Numerous frescoes on the ceiling depicted the creation of the world and the races that inhabited it. For the first week, you walked with your head up, and more than once you were on the verge of falling. The tall, graceful steles also drew attention to the care with which the flowers and leaves were molded, as if they were real and the spell had just turned them to stone a moment ago. The garden wasn't to be forgotten, you'd only been there once, but it was already completely engraved in your heart. Score one for staying. Overall to summarize the temple was beautiful, the priests friendly. So why the hell is this place of paradise run by this goddamn pervert! The Creator's eyes are blown out of their heads to let a man like that in charge of their temple? Unbearable.

Your boots thudded loudly and angrily on the marble floor, and you continued on your way. The servants and priests you encountered preferred to avoid you in a wide arc, sensing in their gut the dark and heavy aura you gave off. With the power you put into opening the door, you could shred a mountain to pieces with a single blow. Yeah, like that bald guy, that's how powerful you were at that moment. The storekeeper didn't even lift his head from the paper he was looking at. Inwardly, you marveled a little at his restraint; you yourself would have jumped on the spot if you had been rushed in with such a bang. More calmly you approached the not-young man whose most prominent feature was his giant-hooked nose.

“I brought the robes, where should I put them?” Your voice rumbles through the room.

The man nodded vaguely toward a neighboring room filled with baskets full of robes. The servants had to wash and dry the robes before handing them back to the priests. Why the freshly sewn robes had to be washed was a big question, but not of your mind. You were about to leave when you were stopped by the storekeeper.

“Go to the infirmary and get the medicine for the hero. His chambers are in the east wing of the temple on the third floor.”

During your entire stay in the room, the storekeeper didn't even look at you, and after he gave you the order, he started acting as if you weren't even here. Well, the main thing is that he didn't yell. You shrugged your shoulders and left the room.

The stone-face test was successfully passed, the die rolled on a twenty! In fact, your heart was racing, and your palms were unpleasantly sweaty. Did all this mean you would be able to see Evan? You didn't even know he'd returned. With an effort of will, you suppressed the joyful scream that burst from your mouth. You're going to see the protagonist of this damn novel. Almost dancing, you hurried toward the infirmary.

The nurse, whose name was Ellen, gave you your medication as soon as she heard that you had come from the storekeeper. The girl explained that because of the upcoming festival dedicated to the Creator, all the servants were busy preparing for the sacred rituals. Mentally, you tsked. That no servant could spare time for the precious hero of the Church? Nonsense, of course, but nonsense that plays right into your hands. Having memorized what to give and in what dosage, you headed for the eastern wing.

The corridors became more and more empty with every turn, as if you were entering a forbidden zone. The atmosphere was oppressive and growing colder with each step. A creak sounded very close to you, made you jump on the spot and freeze. It was scary to turn around. You didn't want to see the ghost behind you. On bending legs, you turned around and ….Mmm No, that's just your overactive imagination working for the bread. There was nothing behind you. Nothing in the front, either. Cussing under your breath, you continued walking. Isekai had definitely taken a toll on your nerves. Shame they hadn't invented valerian here yet.

The doors to Evan's chambers were carved, decorated with ornaments of flowers. You knocked hesitantly, and when there was no answer, you knocked again, but louder. Maybe he was asleep? What was to be done? The nurse had said the medication had to be timed to avoid making him feel worse. The doorknob in your hand felt like a ticket to heaven or hell. Praying in your mind to who you didn't know, you pushed it down. With a quiet click, the door opened. Like a mouse about to steal cheese, you quietly slipped through the gap and closed the door behind you. You hoped Evan wasn't a cat that would eat you for entering without permission.

The main hero's chambers were green, very green, not because the walls and furniture were that color, but because of the dozens or even hundreds of pots with various plants. As a half-elf, Evan had the ability to understand and talk to plants. For a long time in the novel, they were his only friends, listening to all his sorrows. Sighing sadly, you headed for the door behind, which was presumably the bedroom.

Evan lay on the bed, resting peacefully, deep in sleep. The blanket lay in a bunched pile at the half elf's feet. His complexion was very pale with blue veins clearly visible, there were deep bruises under his eyes, and his breathing was intermittent and heavy. Despite this, he was still more handsome than the sleeping beauty herself. If you thought the comparison was inappropriate, just never mind. On tiptoe, you moved closer and leaned over the sleeping hero. Handsome. You especially liked the way his leafy green hair curled around his pointy ears. You wanted to catch one strand between your fingers and then watch it curl back. You weren't weird. Not at all.

You put the tray of medicine on the bedside table with a little more clatter than you'd like, but Evan didn't wake up, thankfully. The half elf's forehead was scalding hot, and you jerked your hand away quickly. Looking around, you spotted a basin of water on the other side of the room and quickly soaked the rag you'd grabbed from the tray before placing it on Evan's forehead. That's better. Satisfied, you smiled to yourself.

The question of how to medicate the unconscious hero was still open. You frankly didn't want to wake him up. You remembered from the book that Evan's condition was extremely serious, and he didn't come to his senses at all. Rest is the best medicine. It's better if you quietly do your business and leave, and he won't even know you're in his chambers. Shit, that sounded like some kind of thief.

Pass the cure with a kiss? You shook your head frantically as soon as the thought crossed your mind. God, you'd read too many romance novels. Conscience and morality would never allow you to violate Evan's personal boundaries like that, considering how they'd already been violated by the high priest. Besides, it would be despicable to do that to any person.

But then what were you supposed to do? You'd just have to pour the drugs into Evan's mouth and hope he didn't choke. That's about what you did, luckily without becoming a hero killer. Now comes the most difficult and embarrassing part. Ellen gave you an ointment to rub into the half elf's chest. The medical reasons behind this you almost completely missed, and you only had to take on faith the necessity of this action. Evan wouldn't like it if someone he didn't know undressed him and started performing medical procedures on him. Right? So something had to be done about it.

One of the scraps of fabric Ellen put on the tray caught your eye. It's perfect. You'll pretend to be a butler, covering your eyes with a strip of fabric so as not to embarrass your mistress. Master. You mean Evan. Quickly and tightly tying the band, you found yourself in darkness. With suddenly trembling hands you fumbled for the collar of the half elf's shirt and from it, you easily reached the buttons. Normally you would have easily done it in less than a minute, but now deprived of sight and incredibly embarrassed; each of your actions was stretched to the point of impossibility. After an eternity according to your internal clock, you finally managed this undeniably difficult task.

So it was time for the ointment, which was as green as you remembered and smelled like bumps or something else freshly herbal. Incredibly embarrassed by your own actions, you rubbed the ointment in as fast as you could without lingering on any part of Evan's skin. What's a stupid trail? A relieved exhale escaped you when this torture finally stopped. Ellen had said the ointment should absorb very quickly, literally in less than a minute, and in your head you drummed your fingers on your thigh, ticking off the seconds. When the time was up, you hoped for it towards the end you began to speed up the count, with all care you covered Evan with the blanket. The nurse had said the fever would go down very quickly, which meant the half elf could get cold.

And so it was done! Now you could leave with a clear conscience. You pulled the bandage off your eyes, blinked in the light, and hurriedly picked up the tray, leaving the room. Before you passed through the doorway, you took one last look at Evan, still sleeping peacefully. Handsome even when he's sick. Nodding affirmatively at that thought, you headed back to the infirmary to return the medication to the nurse.

***

Evan woke up when someone started undoing the buttons of his sleeping shirt. His first thought was that it was Donavan, so the only thing he could do was lie there and not fight back. Was he sick of his powerlessness? So sick that he wanted to open his chest with his hands and rip out his damn heart, which sometimes allowed itself to hope for the best. The half elf left his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the high priest's ugly face, twisted with desire. He could still visualize it all too well, anyway. A convulsion shot through his arm and he clawed his fingers into the sheets, his nails almost tearing the fabric.

Halfway through the unbuttoning, Evan suddenly realized that the fingers that sometimes grazed his skin were different from Donovan's skinny, knotted fingers, the pads of which were covered with calluses. In addition, a strange chill spread from his forehead down his body. Was it the damp cloth? It was only because of the two factors above that he actually opened his eyes and saw you. The snort that almost came out of his mouth, he held back with an incredible effort of will. A blindfold? It was ridiculous, even more ridiculous than the mix of slime deer and owl he'd met in the swamp. Ridiculous but oddly cute. The mere thought that he might be uncomfortable being stared at half-naked had never occurred to anyone. With already great interest and friendliness, he began to consider your appearance.

When you reached for the green jar, he recognized it as an antipyretic. A spark of realization lit him up, and Evan bit his lip. He was ready for the feeling of a thousand little insects crawling under his skin, but your touch didn't disgust him. Evan blinked perplexedly when he realized this. Short and medically detached, your touch was devoid of any lust. Noticing your fingers trembling, Evan concluded that at the very least you were awkward. Later his guess was confirmed by your tapping on your thigh, too uneven and often out of rhythm to be a sign of boredom or impatience. The blanket you covered him with forced him to smile slightly. A display of simple human caring that he had always been deprived of. The thought made him feel unpleasantly empty inside.

When your fingers reached for the bandage, Evan closed his eyes as quickly as possible, not even knowing why. He didn't have an answer to that question. Listening to the quiet rustling of the fabric of your clothes and the tinkling of the medicine on the tray made his heart feel lighter for some reason. It was as if you were not a randomly sent servant, but someone close to him who genuinely cared about him.

The creak of the door alerted him to your departure, but with his keen hearing, he could still hear your footsteps outside his chambers. As soon as they were gone, Evan sat up on the bed, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down. Silently, he twirled it in his hands. His head felt strangely empty. Perhaps the only question that bothered him now was; who are you? Meeting you had irrevocably changed something in him, as if he had been a broken clock just now starting to run.

Evan rolled back over, sinking into the soft mattress, and returned the cloth to his forehead. The next time you two meet, once he's recovered enough to walk, he'll be sure to ask your name. With that thought, his exhausted mind took to its realm of Morpheus.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[flamingtouya]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 —

pairing: dabi + afab!reader

word count: 4471

cw: nsfw, smoking, alcohol, fingering, unprotected sex, pining, lots of flirting, dabi being a lovesick mess

summary: dabi doesn't know love. doesn't know tenderness. he doesn't dare seek it out, always denying himself the one thing he's afraid he won't be able to get enough of once he's had a taste. but you - oh, you - you're too intriguing to not get a little too close.

Silence is its own form of violence. 

Silence has a way of consuming Todoroki Touya’s heart and swallowing him whole. Silence, to him, is as loud as the infinite rage burning at the core of his heart, the one that hollows out the space between his ribs and leaves him bare. Even though he died years ago, silence is the one thing that eats away at his soul and spits it back up, exposing him to the rawness, the viciousness of his untamed emotions. It renders him unguarded. Naked. So utterly, laughably vulnerable. 

It only makes sense that Dabi likes to avoid silence. 

His skin prickles with anticipation and his palms light up, wicked euphoria pulling on every muscle in his body and making his heart pound up in his ears. “Y'know, I was in a good mood just now,” he snarls. "Piss off while you still can.”

The villain in front of him flexes his quirk, four muscular arms stretching wide enough to block the way out of the dead-end alley. Dabi tilts his head to the side at the pathetic intimidation attempt. Something about this particular group of lowlifes is rubbing him the wrong way - their obnoxious cockiness, sheer confidence in their numbers, the taunting stares, as if to say 'Pity, you got lost on our turf'. He's not quite sure. Doesn't know, doesn’t care. They want blood. He’ll give it to them. One of the men shouts a vile insult in his direction, but the venom dies in his throat the moment Dabi flashes his most deranged grin, all teeth and manic ecstasy. “Then die.”

Blue flames engulf the alley in an instant. Vicious and bloodthirsty, as though they're being driven by a murderous rage of their own, feeding on the meal that was gifted to them. Adrenaline explodes in Dabi’s stomach; His back muscles ache, staples tugging on the scarred flesh, limbs screaming in agony - it’s pure exhilaration. The men's gargling screams cease within seconds, bright heat retreating just as fast as it had appeared. One body hits the ground. Then another. And another. The gang leader's charred corpse drops mere inches from Dabi's feet. Dabi steps forward, making it a point to bury his boot in the spot where the villain's face used to be. 

"Stepped in shit."

He puts his hands in his pockets and walks away, as he'd done so often before. To any sane person, the sight of the bodies left behind would be as vomit-inducing as the accompanying stench of burnt flesh. But Dabi has gotten so terribly used to it, his nose doesn’t even itch. 

By the time he comes down from his high, the smoke begins to dissolve into the night sky and silence comes crashing down around him once again.

_________________________________________

Your figure is draped across the couch, face hidden behind the cover of a dusty novel. The room is quiet, save for the occasional turning of a page and the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against the book’s spine. Some of the cigarette cinder falls beside the tray and you flick it again, this time deliberately letting it fall onto the wanted poster below and watching as the ash slowly eats a hole into the crumpled paper.

Dabi barges in without so much as kicking his boots off. Before you can even properly take in how dishevelled he looks he’s made his way past you, not sparing you a glance, perhaps not even fully realising you're there. You don’t say anything, just furrow your eyebrows and stare at the fresh burn on the back of his neck as he rummages through the cupboard behind the bar.

It's too shallow to leave a scar. Probably. If it heals right. If he lets it heal right. He won't, though, won't even use the ointment that Toga had gotten him from the pharmacy, purchased with her own money (that she had stolen, but it's the thought that counts). Even Tomura called him stupid when he refused. Which Dabi definitely was when it came to self-preservation. Or lack thereof. So there sits the new patch of fresh red on his neck, waiting to dry out and join the sea of scars on his shoulders.

It takes you more effort to tear your eyes away than you’d like to admit. Suddenly, the small crinkle on the corner of page 106 is very interesting.

Dabi finally gets his fingers on some cheap Whiskey and raises the bottle to his lips without bothering to pour a glass. A waste, really. He gulps down three, four mouthfuls, seemingly unbothered by the streaks of liquid that seep through his teeth and trickle down onto his collarbone. Satisfied when his throat is burning with the same intensity as the scorched skin under his shirt, Dabi slams the bottle on the counter. He blinks six, seven times before the wooden texture under his fingers begins to blur. Soon enough he’s cooled down, the annoying buzzing in his head replaced by a soothing numbness. 

But the quiet around you is eating him alive. Still waters run deep, and Dabi wants to keep things shallow wherever he can. So he does something he’s never done before - something he thinks he’ll end up cursing himself for. 

He acknowledges your presence. 

"You read?" 

You glance up from the page, giving him a suspicious once-over before diving back into the safety of your book. "You speak?" 

Neither of you say anything for days afterward. 

____________________________

It’s you who breaks the silence next. 

“You’re filthy,” you comment when he returns at the crack of dawn. And you reek of burns. You don’t expect any kind of response. But Dabi is a man of many surprises, even as generous as to look your way when he retorts, “you’re nosy.” 

He’s clutching his elbow with one hand and opening the bar cupboard with the other. Glancing at the trail his boots leave on the floor, you wrinkle your nose and decide to push your luck. 

“Do you have to get blood on the carpet?” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s disgusting enough as it is.” 

He lets you interpret his lack of a response as agreement, or maybe you’ve seen him like this often enough to know how loud his head is buzzing already.

By the next time he makes it back later than he should, the bottle of Whiskey is waiting for him on the counter. 

____________________________

He doesn’t notice. Not at first. How this is turning into a game of cat-and-mouse. You and Dabi dance around each other like fire would around gasoline, and it’s starting to irritate him. He finds himself removing his boots before plopping into the couch seat across from yours. Always irritated when you brush him off. Always amused that he can’t seem to get a rise out of you. 

“You’re smoking hot tonight, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “Spare me a cigarette?” 

You look up from whatever meaningless video is playing on your phone. He’s done this a few times before, calling you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘princess’ in that mocking tone of his. You don’t mind, because talking to Dabi is like talking to an NPC most of the time anyways and it at least shows he considers you someone worth name-calling. Instead of meeting his face, your eyes fall on the half-empty Whiskey he’s gripping a little too tightly. He frowns.

“If you hand me that bottle.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. As if he’s ever going to consider such a trade. Maybe some part of him actually is. He doesn’t allow himself to think about it, lest he’s forced to admit that the alcohol does indeed taste bad. “Fuck you.” He sways the bottle in your direction. “But I’m down to share. Feeling generous tonight.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Don’t want to. Haven’t had alcohol in a while.”

“A shame. You should try it. Makes you give less of a fuck,” he says, and for a moment you’re taken aback by the honesty. That’s the thing about Dabi; All you ever get is fleeting glimpses of sincerity, a split second where his persona slips and he’s forced to feel something. You don’t acknowledge it out loud, taking the pieces as they come and even if some don’t fit quite right, you never pry. Dabi appreciates it, you think. As far as his appreciation goes, anyways. The man before you is a riddle that doesn’t want to be solved.

He’s back to himself in a heartbeat and you realise he’s looking at you, expecting an answer.

“But then I’d ignore you completely,” you nod in his direction. “And you wouldn’t have any fun trying to annoy me.”

He ponders for a moment and takes another swig. A hint of a triumphant smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you allow it to show when he’s not looking. 

____________________________

It creeps up on him, how aggravatingly familiar your presence is becoming. He hates the word, hates the implications of it. You’re not family. He’d like to think you’re far more annoying, if that’s even possible. 

So when he returns particularly early one night and you’re not in your usual spot on the couch, he’s… puzzled. There’s no book, no ashtray, no charger on the floor. No trace of you having been here tonight. In one of the drawers lie several burner phones - he fetches one and punches your number in. The exposed skin on his wrist protests at the friction.

> the fuck you at?

He’s about to go on a scavenging hunt behind the bar when the phone buzzes. 

> out

"No shit," Dabi scoffs. He debates whether or not he should leave it at that. His fingers make the decision for him, typing out a response before his head has fully caught up. 

> shit answer. try again

He wants to toss the phone away but his eyes are glued to the message that pops up immediately.

> watasecho bridge

Dabi frowns at your choice of a quiet spot. He's got an approximate idea of where you are. A few minutes later he's navigating through a narrow passage that leads to the platform below the railway bridge, where most of the lamps are either broken or have been smashed to bits. It's no less eerie than he remembers. Watasecho is where people go looking for trouble, after all.

He’d know. He's cremated a man here. 

Dabi sucks in his breath and turns the corner. Something whirls by him, coming dangerously close to slicing his ear and hitting concrete behind him with a graceless ‘clink’. 

His eyebrows go up in surprise but his posture remains relaxed, shoulders slouched, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other coming up to check for blood. "You missed." 

"If I wanted to impale your neck, I would've."

"I know, sweet cheeks. But unfortunately for you, I'm as un-impaled as ever." 

You huff at the snark in his tone. "Don't make me reconsider." 

“So mean. Even though I just got here.” Dabi takes his spot beside you, resting his elbows on the railing. The only lights around were the lamps from the highway below, illuminating your face in a way that made his stomach feel a little too light for his liking.

You shrug. “Figured you wouldn’t bother.”

"Please, I'm a bother. You should know," he says. Of all people, you should know. And you do.

You press the cigarette butt against the railing and stick another in your mouth.

“How so? Indulge me.” 

“If you give me that pack,” he mocks. It’s your turn to scoff, though you can’t deny that there’s a visible hint of a smile there, too. You pretend to contemplate for a moment. “No,” you muse. “I don’t think I will.” You hold the lighter close and flick it. Nothing happens. Try again. Nothing. 

The piece of shit is empty. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Dabi snatches it from you, inspecting the cheap plastic before giving it a good flick down the highway. It barely misses an oncoming truck. “Looks like you’re in a pinch.”

You tilt your head to look at him, cigarette still in mouth. “Can you be not annoying for like, two minutes?” 

“It has nothin’ to do with whether I can, and everythin’ to do with whether I want to. And the answer to that,” he says, “is ‘No’.” You pout. Sure enough, Dabi does nothing to hide his amused smirk. “Say ‘please’ and I might help you out.”

The implication isn’t lost on you. Warmth pools in your stomach and you raise an eyebrow at him, playing with the cigarette between your lips, fumbling through your pockets in hopes that another lighter would magically appear. You huff when it doesn’t. “I’d rather go through withdrawal.”

Dabi exhales deliberately, making a point of dropping his shoulders. “Such a piece of work.” 

He takes the cigarette from your lips and puts it to his, pinching the end between his thumb and index finger. The stick lights up briefly. You begrudgingly mutter your thanks and reach for it but Dabi leans away from you, not breaking your gaze. Shoulders wide and shiteating grin plastered on his face, he chuckles as he takes the first drag. The staples at the corners of his mouth tug on the purplish skin when he exhales, visibly amused when the smoke blows in your direction. 

You roll your eyes and groan, though your voice is softer than you’re used to when you speak; "You're a chronic nuisance and nobody loves you." 

"Sweetheart, I'm well aware." 

You finger another cigarette from the pack and hold it out to him expectantly. To your surprise, he complies. The flame he conjures dances around the tip of his finger. Up close like this, it’s… warm. 

It’s not supposed to be. Dabi isn't supposed to be warm or comforting or any of those things. He’s vicious, cold-blooded. Ruthless and vengeful. His sins are written over his body from the cheekbones to the shoulders, wrapped around his torso and hips, and most recently, his hands. The burns that used to hug his wrists so tenderly are beginning to crawl toward his knuckles. He’s not supposed to feel like warmth. Vicious. Cold-blooded. He’s a despicable person, inside and out.

Beyond despicable. That’s why you hate him, you think. 

That's why you… what?

You’re smacked out of your trance when his hand drops to his side. Thankfully his attention seems to be on the highway below. It’s not very busy, but it’s something to focus on. Slowly, you bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale. Your body welcomes the tobacco's bitterness as it creeps into your lungs and manages to dissolve some of the tension between your shoulders. 

Dabi burns through half of his cigarette in under a minute. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, shoulders dropped when he tilts his head back, eyes closed. Nothing to keep the silence at bay. He invites it in, soaks it up and lets it burn for a little bit before his body forces him to exhale again. 

It strikes you then that he’s… beautiful. His jaw is sharp and the slight curve of his nose all the softer. You wouldn't call him pretty. Handsome, maybe, despite his scars and jarred edges. Definitely attractive. Even the wind seems to think so as it caresses his hair in a way that makes your heart sting with envy. For some reason, Dabi looks small. Unguarded, with his throat exposed like that. 

"There a reason you keep eyefucking me?" 

The tranquillity around him vanishes in an instant, replaced by that familiar, snarky arrogance. Dabi's eyes open and flicker to your figure. You hold your breath. “There a reason you keep burning yourself up like that?”

He seems to consider your words as he takes one last drag. “Maybe I just like to chase death around the block,” he says, voice laced with endearing sarcasm. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Then I’ll just have to guess why you decided to humour me tonight.” 

"Because I hate you," he lies. 

Huh. 

You giggle, and the giggle bubbling up turns into laughter. Dabi’s heart skips a beat. You don’t see how his mouth opens and closes, don’t see how he almost, almost smiles, relishing in the moment - the crinkles in the corner of your eye when you laugh, the lovely sound of your joy - what the fuck did he say again?

It’s kind of amusing, frankly. “I really don’t think that you do,” you say, evidently confident even though your heart is racing.

So is his, but he doesn’t let it show, tries to bury it before the pounding in his chest escapes. Dabi raises an eyebrow. “That your second quirk?”

"More of a natural gift, actually.” You have his undivided attention, the intensity of his gaze boring right through you as you speak. “Can’t really help it. I just know when people lie." 

Dabi freezes. The cigarette butt between his fingers crumbles to ash in an instant. 

"You are not who you say you are, Dabi." 

How far should you go? 

"What you’re hiding is none of my business.” 

This far. 

“But you are not here for Stain's cause, and you really don't like Whiskey - I don't get why you force yourself to pretend you do.” 

Just a little bit further. 

“But it seems you do believe that nobody loves you." 

Maybe too far. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

Not with him.

Dabi hasn’t moved, hasn’t made any attempt to murder you either, so you push it. You bring your palm up to his face, stopping mere inches from his scarred jawline. 

"And you do not hate me."

"I do." 

Maybe he should just ignite you on the spot. If he burns hot enough, there won’t be a corpse left to be found. He mentally shuffles through a multitude of scenarios in which he convinces Shigaraki that they were better off without you. 

For some stupid fucking reason, he comes up blank.

Your hand withdraws from him, coming to rest at your side. He flinches at the sudden loss. Fucking flinches, like you’ve scorched him with the mere implication of your touch. 

Something in your chest is trying to get out. For a second there you might burst. Hell, if that means he can finally see that you care, really care, you might as well. Some things aren’t meant to be said out loud and if Dabi is still capable of softness, you’re hoping he feels it too, the thing that passes between the two of you. Your heart aches for him in ways that shouldn’t be possible and yet here you are, standing before the man that’s lost count of how many lives he’s taken. Longing for him to need you the way you need him to.

"I can't get rid of that emptiness in you." 

"You're right," he says, and it’s much easier when he knows you see right through his lies. "You can't." 

“I don’t think anybody can.” 

Something in the back of his mind cries out. He’s turned the happy smile on your face into a sad one - one that wants to wipe off your face, not violently, not with harsh words, but tenderly. His eyes flicker to your cheek, your neck, your lips. 

It’s silent.

“But I can kiss you.”

Oh.

Yeah. Dabi thinks he would like that.

His lips meet yours, not even giving you a chance to think or breathe, and before you fully realise that it’s really happening you're kissing him back, all lips and tongue and teeth and a slight whimper escapes you. Mercifully, he doesn't stop to comment, but there's a hint of smugness when he slips his tongue into your mouth. His hands find your hips and he guides you backwards until your back is against the concrete. He has you completely, pressing you into the wall and holding you like he's afraid you're going to disappear any moment.

Your head feels fuzzy, eyes prickling and cheeks hot. His lips leave yours and find your jawline instead, teeth grazing. You roll your hips forward and brush over the bulge that’s forming in his crotch. There's a hint of a throaty moan and you can't help but laugh at him for it. 

“Shut up,” he muttered against the crook of your neck, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling on the already tender skin. 

"Make me."

He firmly grips your chin with two fingers. It’s ridiculous, how he has you submit to him so easily, sending shivers of excitement down your spine and making you weak in the knees. With all the mental strength you can muster, you smile up at him triumphantly. “You didn’t drink.” 

“Had a reason not to.”

“And why is that?” 

Dabi bites down on your throat, too soft to draw blood but hard enough to make you freeze. 

He pushes the fabric aside and presses a finger against your wet entrance, and you could swear his voice drops an octave. “Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours and find out.” 

Fuck. 

Your eager cunt swallows his finger to the knuckle and he doesn't bother to add another, enjoying how you whimper at him teasing your softness and pressing against your cervix, just barely, enough to make you want more. 

There are slight alterations to his rhythm and you trust each and every one of them as he searches for the pace that makes you squirm the way he wants you to. You lose track of your moans when he finds it, slow and deep enough to reach pleasure inside you that you didn’t know you had. He coaxes moan after moan out of you, growing harder with every grind of your thigh against his crotch. 

“Stop being such a goddamn tease and just fuck me already.” 

“This is all you’re gettin’ for being such a goddamn brat.”

“Oh, shut- ah- up. You love it.”

“I hate it,” he corrects. 

“You- fuck,” you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders for support. 

He laughs - it’s a low and husky laugh, one that makes your breath hitch and your pussy clench around his digit. His movements are slow but firm as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, curling ever so slightly when it brushes against your sweet spot. It’s cute, he thinks, how weak you are for him. 

Dabi has the audacity to lock eyes with you as the inevitable smirk makes its way onto his face. He has no business looking this smug with his erection pressed up against your thigh, but here he is. Hungry for your touch, starved for the sensation of being buried inside of you as though he’s always known how badly he needs it. Whatever he’s going to say is lost when your lips crash into his again and it’s him who lets a moan slip.

“I hate you,” he growls. 

“Such a sweet-talker.” You lazily drag your tongue up his cheek and place a kiss on his temple. There’s the way he gasps just a little too audibly to go unnoticed, the way his fingers dig into your flesh too tightly.

"From the first time I saw you, I've hated your guts." 

You hum, rolling your hips against his and feeling him pulsate. Dabi hisses when you squeeze your thighs, pulling and pushing him with every deliberate motion. Nails digging further into your thigh as he lets out a raspy moan. The sensation drives both of you crazy, the knot in your stomach suddenly feeling very hot and tight. 

"I ah- I hate you in ways you can't- fuck- imagine." 

His forehead is pressed against your shoulder, teeth lightly grazing your neck. You finally have him where you want him, almost daring to protest when he pulls his finger out of you but you unbuckle his belt instead, pulling down the hem of his underwear to reveal his full length. 

Your eyes widen at the sight. “Holy shit, you’re big.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to take it,” Dabi says with what little restraint he can muster. “Take it for me? Please?” 

And how could you deny him such a sweet request?

He lifts you up and props you onto the concrete. It’s not cold at all, you realise, and when his hot palm caresses the curve of your ass, it’s clear why. You pull him closer by the hips and he slides into you. Not wholly at first, as if to test your limit. You reassure him that it’s fine, you can take it, and god does he fill you up nicely when he bottoms out. It’s like his cock was always meant to be buried inside you. 

“Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck- fuck. Fuck-”

It’s unlike any meaningless fuck he’s ever had. The grip your pussy has around him is the most heavenly sensation Dabi’s ever felt, something so divine it’s making him want to whisper prayers into your skin.

“‘S okay,” you whisper instead, “I got you.” Even though he’s the one holding you close like his life depends on it. Your fingers slip under his shirt and around his torso, pulling him forward to trap him in another heated kiss.

One can only deny the truth for so long before it begins to eat them alive. You've crawled into his heart and made your home there. He tried to claw you out, but you ignite a feeling in him that he's desperately failed to put out. Touya was one to feed the flames - always had been. 

So when you reach your high he holds you close, picking up the pace at which he ruts into you once you’re pushed over the edge. Stars cloud your vision and you’re letting yourself fall backwards because you know he’s there to catch you, his grip around your back firm despite how hard his thighs are shaking when he spills into you. His thrusts are short but deep. Your fingernails scratch along his shoulder and he fucking loses it when you bite down on his neck and moan his name. Some of him is leaking and running down your thigh already but he fucks it back into you, coming undone with the sweetest, most honey-coated moan you’re ever heard. 

Dabi’s eyes meet yours, pleasure and ecstasy written all over them as you both bask in the afterglow. You brush your thumb across his cheek to wipe away the bloody drop that runs down from his right eye, gently inspecting if any of the staples had come undone. 

Dabi puts his hand over yours, guiding it to his lips where he places a kiss on your knuckles before letting go. You rest your forehead against his shoulder and allow yourself to breathe in the dewy blue of the night. 

♡

Some of us only know love as pain. Every positive emotion is intertwined with an incurable, deep-rooted sadness. I believe that Dabi would express his love in a way that people who’ve been traumatically sabotaged from forming any good relationships would; denying himself the good parts and ultimately being overwhelmed when they become too strong to ignore. 

If you enjoyed this, consider reblogging or giving me some love in the replies or on AO3 <3

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 17 : Starry Dreams

Wholesome Chapter before tommorow and I write a longer one for you pookies <33

[𝙽𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗'𝚜 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜, 𝙰𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗(𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢)]

"ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕣 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞... 𝕄𝕪 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞..." Nocturn mutters softly as he descended from the makeshift planets of the dream He has placed Danny in. "Nocturn!" Danny cries out for him and ran to hug the Man In relief, "𝕀 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞... 𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖?" Nocturn asks Curiously with a soft smile as Danny tilts his head with a bemused expression Plastered on his delicate face.

Oh the newer scars that cover his body.. How dare they hurt his little Prince of the Stars... The chosen child of the Astral Gods... Such vile humans, atleast now Fright Knight has them under the Nightmare Realms. Nocturn smiles softly as he Carreses Danny's Cheek softly as Danny continues to embrace his beloved Grandfather. "You're extra sparkly today Grampa." Danny mutters and Nocturn could feel his core quench in happiness as his Dear Phantom has finally called him Grampa. HAH. TAKE THAT CLOCKWORK!! IM THE FAVORITE GRANDPA NOW!!

Nocturn took a deep breathe and nodded. "𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞... 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕒𝕩𝕚𝕖𝕤." Nocturn says endearingly with an ever so gentle and softer tone, Oh how much he treasured this little Prince... One day once he gains back his full power once again he will torture anyone who dares hurt his dear Phantom... Maybe not everyone so no One fears his Dearest Prince. So may they endear him to their hearts and treasure him as much as he, Dante and many more treasure the prince and Princess.

Klarion will be pleased to hear his little 'cousin' of chaos and destruction Ellie is still being a little demon... Nocturn sighs as he continued to listen to Danny's Day as he listened to Bruce talk to him in his sleep. Damian occasionally visiting and telling him about his day and even introducing Alfred the Cat. Dick being one moment a ray of sunshine then a serious person when his vigilantism comes calling. Stephanie was a new one, she talked about Tim and Tim always Bickered with Her and He could hear Cass giggling at the two bickering. Then there's Barbara Gordon... She sounds like Jazz... It makes his core purr. Duke is also someone new. Duke talks about his day, and talk about school and his crush.

Then there's the occasional Tim Drake being alone with the kid. Everytime he visits he sounded in pain. He talks about how he's watched what's happened to Danny. Danny wants to console him because tim says he's blaming himself for not finding him sooner. They had to wait 2 weeks to find Danny and it pained The Poor Boy. Sometimes Damian too sounds just like tim. They're both blaming themselves for something they couldn't control. Oh these poor boys... Danny wishes he could wake up then and there to console them the way Jazz would have done.

Then there's Bruce... Who Danny likes to call dad now as he occasionally in the month of Danny being asleep sometimes accidentally calls Danny Son, which made Danny laugh. He talks about his family. He barely talks about himself... Then sometimes there's Alfred... He's the butler. Everytime he came around Danny the butler talked about Dad— no... Bruce's Childhood, Saying how much my eyes resemble Miss Martha or Bruce's Mother. He also promised that once He wakes up he will give Danny a jar of cookies he has made and been saving up for Danny. Cass doesn't talk much... But frostbite translates for her, she talks about how much she wishes he'd wake up sooner so they can play. She sounds sweet... Her giggles are sweet too. Jason would come sometimes. He was nice. He loves Dante and Dante loves him, He can't help but smile at the thought of the day they once marry.

Maybe Danny can be the flower Boy or the Best Man, Dante would decide that! Danny wants to watch Dante Marry Jason atleast! He wants to See Dante happy and no longer burdened by the fear of losing Danny or Ellie or any of the Fraid bonds they have created. One day they'll stop running... Maybe they already did...

Frostbite always says to stay safe in my dreams. Maybe he knows he can hear them.. that's relieving. he wants to wake up too. He wants to wake up now as well. His core felt more energized than before! Surely he can wake up now.

He wants to wake up.

Wake up...

"𝕋𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕄𝕪 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕣 ���𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞... 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕨?" He hears nocturn ask and he felt himself blink as he stared up at his Grandfather... And Danny Spoke up.

"I..."

"ꀤ ꅏꍏꈤ꓄ ꓄ꂦ ꅏꍏꀘꍟ ꀎꉣ."

Danny widens his eyes and gasping for air as he finally managed to move his body and Wake up. "D-Danny!" Bruce was beside him mid sentence about how Damian was very well behaved today for Danny, Dante was also there and He immediately called frostbite who soon emerges from a Portal. "Oh Great One. Calm down..." He puts his giant paw on Danny's Chest as Danny Stabilizes his breathing and nodding with Frostbite speaking to Calm him back down. "Are you alright danny?" Bruce asks, his heart aching in worry and Danny just laughs and smiles whilst nodding.

"Nocturn .. was there to console me" Danny says with a soft tone, his voice felt ethereal at best. "Calm down with the god Stuff Boy." Dante states and Danny laughs even more and took a deep breathe, his hair that felt as though they were floating just a few seconds ago fell back into their normal place, the other kids was running down Damian And Tim especially. Damian Crashed and Tackled the door Open. "oh fucking god you okay Dami?" Tim asks unexpectedly and Damian nods. Danny laughs at them and almost falls off the Bed but Bruce caught him before he does and sighed in relief. Danny kicked his legs happily and Hugged Bruce.

"You're my Dad Now!" He says happily whilst giggling and Bruce swore his heart skipped a beat, did the kid hear everything they said? Oh my... He must've been waiting to wake himself up... Bruce pats Danny's head and hugs him back. "I guess that's your approval Bruce." Dante chuckled and stood up, Jason hugging Dante's arm but Dante wrapping both of his muscular arms around Jason and Pulling him closer instead. They both looked happy and relieved that Danny is finally awake and as soon as he did he chose Bruce immediately. Jason finally understands Bruce just a little bit more.... Probably because of The Forced Therapy with one of Dan's Friends, Valerie— damn she's brutal.

Anyways that's not the point right now, the point is that Danny has chosen his new Fraid Family... And somehow that brought all of them together as an actual family. Dante ruffles Danny's hair and pressed their foreheads together. "You did amazing Danny... Hopefully Nocturn listened to all your worries and woes and gave you a peaceful clear mind." Dante smiled and Danny nodded profusely. "Nocturn was nice! Always is! He's my favorite grandpa!" Danny laughs and slowly gets off the bed with Frostbite's Help. "Oh Clockwork is so gonna cry to that...." Dante laughed menacingly. Scheming Hot Man of His. Jason loves this man so much.

Please let this Happiness in their life continue... Please don't cause these poor Phantoms of his more Pain.

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚... 𝑺𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝑭𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌...

"Oh please Dear Jasmine... Many things are to come in the future. I didn't say the method would be peaceful..!" Clockwork chuckled as he recovered from his pain of being called the second Favorite Grandfather.

𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆... 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 .. 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔... 𝑰 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉.... 𝑺𝒐 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

Clockwork nods and chuckled amusingly, "You Will soon Jasmine~... Soon enough! Time is Patience and Patience is Time! May the River's water grow shallow and reveal it's hidden secrets but before that we must wait! For waiting is better than forcing." Clockwork smirked Cheekily.

Jazz hated that Smile.