#let him commit arson. please

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I love being the creator of my own AU because I can literally do whatever the heck I want with the characters. Like, BOOM, Fiddleford is one of the antagonists in the story now, just for the fucksies and the funsies :] Be free my child, go Fuck Shit Up for everyone else <3 you deserve it

[whorefordean]

three's a crowd

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: reader wants to have a threesome. rafe doesn't share, but he does have a solution.

wc: 2.1k

cw: unprotected p in v, use of pet names (princess, baby, sweet girl), slight degradation, praise, dvp, use of toys, mentions of a threesome, mentions of anal, "cock" was probably overused?, um I think I blacked out while writing this so probably bad writing/errors (also idc but sorry)

18+ mdni

to be honest, the conversation was over before it ever started. 

“can we have a threesome?��� you had asked the question so innocently, so sweetly, that for a moment you truly believed that rafe would say yes. that is, until his head whipped around, and he glared at you like you’d just told him you committed arson. although, he probably would’ve agreed to arson. 

“what the fuck did you just say?” rafe asked so quickly, you had barely caught it. you wanted to laugh at the look on his face. his eyes were wide open, despite him just waking up. it’s barely nine in the morning, and rafe had just finished pouring a cup of coffee. what a way to start the day.

“i said, can we-” 

“don’t start with the dumb shit this early,” rafe scolded before you could finish repeating yourself. you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re not sure why you even wanted to have a threesome. maybe you’d read one too many why choose novels. maybe it had been the wet dream you’d had a few weeks ago. who knows, but a part of you is slightly upset that rafe wouldn’t even entertain the idea. not that you would either, if the roles had been reversed. 

“rafe, come on! it’s not even that serious! i think it could be fun, and you could even choose the guy,” you try to persuade him with puppy dog eyes. rafe stares at you for a minute before scoffing and leaning closer to you.

“the only cock you’ll have inside that greedy little cunt of yours is mine. got it?” rafe growls lowly as he grips your chin. you pout up at him, and rafe rolls his eyes. 

“well, unfortunately for both of us, you don’t have two dicks, rafe!” you argue pathetically, throwing your hands up in the air. he releases your chin and moves back to his previous position at the counter. the room is silent for a few minutes while you glare at him. 

“not even, like, barry?” 

“drop it.” 

so you do. 

nearly three weeks later, you’ve resigned to the fact that you don’t really wanna fuck another dude. nobody could give you the pleasure that rafe can anyways. but a small piece of you wants to know what it would feel like. maybe you’d suck rafe’s cock while riding another. you gnaw on your cheek at the thought, clenching your thighs together. 

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when rafe waltzes into the living room with a smirk on his face. he’s holding a plain brown box under his arm that he promptly drops onto the coffee table. 

“what’s that look for?” you ask him, staring at him suspiciously. rafe licks his lips, tipping his head towards the box. 

“open it,” rafe tells you. you squint at your boyfriend but lean forward and grab the box anyway. you pop the lid open and furrow your brows. slipping the item out of the box, you gape at rafe. 

“rafe, is this what i think it is?” you ask breathily, wetness pooling in your panties as you look at the toy. rafe grins proudly, nodding. 

“you said you wanted two dicks, baby. now, you’ll have two of mine,” rafe says, puffing his chest out as he crosses his arms. the toy in question is a perfect replica of rafe’s cock. you stare up at him from your spot on the couch, trying to find any words to describe how fucking badly you want him in this moment. 

“rafe, sit down,” you say quietly. rafe quirks his head, still grinning at you. he watches as your eyes glaze over with need. 

“why?” rafe teases. his hands grip his biceps, and you can already see the tent forming in his jeans. his hips jut forward as he adjusts his stance, and if you weren’t already on your knees, you would’ve been in an instant. 

“please, rafe. let me suck your cock,” you beg him softly, standing up to slip out of your panties. the shirt you’re wearing belonged to rafe at one point, and it tickles at your thighs when you kneel back down in front of your boyfriend. rafe’s sharp inhale sends a wave of pleasure rolling through you, and he nods before sitting down on the couch. 

before you can do it for him, rafe is slipping his cock out from the restraint of his jeans. you whimper when he starts stroking himself, spreading the pearls of precum down his shaft. he groans, making you pout. 

“rafe, please,” you beg him, shifting your thighs trying to alleviate some of the frustration building inside you. 

“just a second, baby. think it’s okay to think about some other guy using that sweet pussy? you can watch me feel good without you for a second,” rafe groans, squeezing his dick just a bit harder. you whine and when he pays you no mind, you glare at him. rafe’s head is tossed back in pleasure as you reach behind you to grab the toy from the table. you slip it into your mouth, still glaring at rafe. he finally looks at you when your nails dig into the fabric of jeans. 

“so fucking impatient,” rafe rolls his eyes, watching as you suck on the dildo. your tongue swipes at the vein the same way it does on rafe’s real cock. he leans forward, gripping your throat. 

“you said you wanted to get used, baby. i’m still a little offended. maybe you should try to make it up to me,” rafe tells you condescendingly, releasing your throat as he leans back against the couch. you release the toy with a pop before suctioning it to the floor. you hover over it as you finally touch rafe. you stare up at him with wide eyes as he spits, the thick glob running down the length of his shaft. you inhale sharply, lowering yourself onto the toy as you wrap your lips around rafe. 

you moan at the feeling. being stretched out by rafe was the highlight of your life no matter which way he was using you. being able to suck him off and have his cock inside you at the same time? heaven. rafe hisses when you take him deep into your throat. his hand tangles into your hair, holding you there. 

“feel good, princess? hm? everything you wanted?” he snarks, clenching his jaw. you moan against him in agreement, but rafe pulls you off his throbbing dick. 

“wanna hear you say it. tell me how good it feels to be filled up with my cock inside your cunt and that smart mouth,” rafe commands. 

“feels so good, rafe. thank you,” you blubber as you sink further down onto the dildo. your hand finds your clit and you drop your head to rest against rafe’s thigh while using your free hand to stroke his wet cock. rafe’s warm hand rests against the side of your head, playing with your hair, as you bounce on the toy in front of him. 

rafe tsks, “thought you wanted me all over, princess. open your mouth.” you comply, lifting your head up to cover his cock with your mouth again. tears burn your eyes as you take him deep. you shift your hips slightly, and the replica of rafe’s dick drives deeper into your cunt. you whimper against rafe as you rub your clit faster, searching for release.

you slow your hips, bobbing your head to pleasure rafe. swirling your tongue over his pink tip, rafe groans again. you watch rafe through teary eyes. 

“look at you, baby. doin so fucking good for me. just me. ain't that right,” rafe asks rhetorically and you nod slightly. rafe smirks, thoroughly enjoying seeing you filled with him. not that he’d tell you that after the hell he’d almost raised over the situation. rafe wasn’t good at admitting fault, but seeing how blissed out you look in this moment had him second guessing your proposal. 

rafe pull his cock out of your mouth. you whine at the removal, watching as your saliva connects the two of you. you drive your hips down harder, hitting the sweet spot inside of you that only rafe had managed to do before. god, he feels so fucking good. why had you ever even considered adding anyone else to this when rafe has the perfect cock? 

your hands grip rafe’s thighs as you continue to fuck yourself onto the toy. rafe watches in awe, stroking himself. 

“rafe, please,” you beg pathetically. rafe watches you, biting his lip. 

“please what, baby?” he cooes. you dig your teeth into your lip, throwing your head back with your eyes squeezed shut. 

“need you,” you mumble breathlessly. rafe shakes his head in a teasing manner. 

“you have me, princess. taking my cock right now,” he says almost sarcastically. you shake your head quickly. 

“mm, no. need you, rafe,” you beg again. rafe grins widely, pushing your hands off his thighs. you huff at the loss of contact but continue riding the dildo. you’re too lost to realize that rafe is standing now. 

“stop,” rafe tells you lowly. you move to shake your head, but rafe catches your jaw. your eyes snap open, and rafe is glaring down at you. he looks both horrifying and delicious like this. 

“stop and get on the couch. or i’ll fuck you on the floor. your choice,” rafe shrugs. you look down at the carpet, fully aware of how painful the rug burn had been last time, and stand up on shaky legs. 

rafe pushes you down until your head is buried in the couch with your ass and pussy high up on display for him. rafe drags his ring clad fingers down to your dripping core. you hiss when he fully seats himself inside you. 

something warm drips down your slit, and you realize that rafe spit on your pussy. 

“spit on this for me, princess,” rafe tells you before positioning the toy in front of you. he’s leaned forward, chest pressed against your back while he waits for you to listen. you mewl as he drags deeper inside you. you let out a shaky breath before spitting onto the toy. rafe pulls it away from you, but you’re too far gone to piece together why. 

rafe slips a finger into your pussy alongside his cock. he thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the minor stretch his finger added. 

“think you could take two of my cocks inside your pussy, princess?” rafe asks gently as he slips in another finger. you moan at the pleasurable pain, dropping your head back down to the couch while you try to angle your hips better for him. 

“it’s so much,” you whisper, tears brimming your eyes already. 

“i know, sweet girl. but you’d look so pretty with your pussy stuffed full with two of me,” rafe says lovingly. your mind whirs at the mental image of being completely stuffed with rafe. 

“o-okay,” you say quietly. rafe hums. 

“use your words, princess,” he tells you, teasing your clit slowly. 

“i can take it,” you nod along. rafe clicks his tongue in approval before readying the dildo beside his own cock. you hiss at the drag of another cock filling you up. it hurts. then, it doesn’t. you gasp when rafe pushes the dildo in to match his pace. your eyes roll, and you go completely silent as you take whatever rafe is willing to give. tears brim your eyes as you reach down to rub small circles against your pulsing clit. 

“right there, rafe,” you moan. rafe groans as you clench around him. 

“keep doing that, and i’ll have to fill this greedy cunt up with something else,” rafe threatens. you clench again just to spite him. though, you hope he’ll make true on his threat. 

“fuck, you would want that, huh? greedy little cockwhore,” rafe grits, pumping harder into you. you cum with tears streaming down your face, calling out to rafe. rafe cums with a groan at the sight of your tears and the way your pussy is stretched around two cocks. you whine as he finally pulls the dildo out of you. louder when he pulls his own cock out. cum leaks from your used pussy, and rafe reaches down to force it back into your drenched hole. 

“don’t ever ask me for a threesome again, princess, or i’ll fuck that tight little ass, next,” rafe threatens in your ear. 

suddenly, the idea of a threesome is even more appealing. 

[rie-092]

CURSED CHILD

chapter two : the rumour.

summary : clopeh can't enter the henituse museum without finishing his book length prayer for his cale-nim.

★﹒ ( First name ) doesn't know if Clopeh Sekka has things for redheads. But there was a thing that she was sure of, Clopeh is a certified crazy bastard. He was worse than that dragon who commits arson and burns down a whole damn mountain while laughing like a madman. And what's the reason why he did that? Simple, because he was sleep deprived and the elementals won't let him have his peaceful sleep.

The girl deadpanned at the sight in front of her. Clopeh had promised that he would take her out to a museum today. So that's the main reason for the extravagant outfit that the staff of the orphanage prepared for her. But, before they could even enter this damn museum, Clopeh had his hands clasped as he recited a prayer.

Does.... He finally lost his mind? The little redhead crossed her small arms as she looked at Clopeh. Her hands were sweating to the fact that people were looking at them. While her lips unconsciously pouted. Fuck, her child's senses were screaming at her to throw a fit right here, right now to get this bastard's attention.

So, instead of doing that. She tugged the end of the cape of the knight who was escorting them. "Uh... Mister... Is sir Clopeh alright? He's been like that since earlier."

The knight sweatdropped at her question, he awkwardly scratched his cheeks and crouched down at ( first name )'s level. "Little miss, the young master is always like this when uh.. visiting this museum."

"Why?" The little girl innocently asked. "Because he is obse— I mean, he idolizes the firstborn of the family who founded this museum."

( First name ) couldn't help but notice how forced the knight's expression was. He was practically praying to Angela, the God of War, the God of Death and whatever mythical creature that this kid would stop asking him about his liege's weird habits. Yeah, this is considered weird— but just remember that one time when he accidentally entered Clopeh's room and those concerning amount of pictures and drawings of the Young Master Henituse plastered on his liege's room. It was more than enough to traumatise his poor self.

' Maybe I should ask the Duke for a bonus.' he thought.

"Okay." ( First name ) simply said, as the knight's face brightened. "I'm going to look around, Mister! Please tell me when Sir Clopeh came back to reality!"

( First name ) waved her small hand at the knight as she started looking around the museum. Then, a certain painting caught her attention. She noticed how detailed the painting was. And how beautiful the man in the painting is. He was wearing a commander's uniform and had a small smile on his face.

"Pretty." Her reddish brown eyes shone as she looked at the painting. She was caught up in her small words where she was cursing the gods and goddesses for being unfair to her because she wasn't able to get the beauty of this red-haired man in this painting. She wasn't able to hear the murmurs of the people around her.

All of them were flabbergasted because of one thing. They've seen a peculiar sight of a small redhead that looks a lot like their Young master Silver Shield! What? And this kid was looking at Cale Henituse's portrait with those longing expression (when the truth is she was planning the whole event where she will be burning all temples of the God of Death and Angela, the Sun Goddess across the continent) does the young master has an illegitimate child that the people doesn't know of?!

As they started making their gossip inside their little brains. Clopeh's knight had already called for ( first name ) saying that Clopeh was looking for her and they should go to a restaurant nearby instead of staying here. Because Clopeh wasn't able to finish his one book-length prayer and he couldn't enter the Henituse Museum without finishing it.

"Okay." ( First name ) stoically said as she walked away from the painting. Not even aware that a certain orange-haired butler had seen her and now he was speechless and couldn't move from his spot.

Hans, that butler has his jaw dropped as he remembers the little girl that he saw earlier. Those lazy reddish brown eyes that can look down at you like you were some kind of dirty insect were very similar to his liege! That crimson hair! And those mannerisms!

Hans swallowed hard as he started hesitating whether he should tell it to Cale or the Duke himself. But then, decided that the Duke had the right to know about the existence of his granddaughter.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Later that day, those rumours about Cale having an illegitimate child that he kept from the public's eyes had already spread to the Roan Kingdom and the other neighbouring kingdoms. Those rumours kept on getting more and more ridiculous.

And Cale Henituse, the person on the rumour was now laying inside his room on the Henituse estate while sleeping. Ah, slacker life, how sweet it is. He can sleep 15 hours straight now and can laze around after all of those shits that he got involved with. His lips then curved into a sweet smile as he opened his eyes. Only to find two pairs of cat eyes and a pair of dragon's blue eyes staring at him.

"What the fuc—"

Cale almost falls from his bed after seeing his children, On, Hong, and Raon staring at him. He was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed that everyone, by everyone I mean the Molans, Choi Han, Lock, Rosalyn, Mary, and Eruhabe was staring at him with those eerie smiles.

"What?!"

"Unlucky bastard, tsk, tsk." Eruhaben shook his head making Cale more confused. "Cale-nim." This time it was Choi Han who was looking at Cale with a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

What the heck is going on?

This time, Rosalyn chuckled as she spoke in amusement. "Have you heard the news, Young master Cale? The crown prince had fainted."

"What? Why?"

"Because he heard that his younger sworn brother has a secret child that looks a lot like him." Cale deadpanned, is that so? But then he realized something causing his eyes to widen. He is Alberu's only sworn brother! "Huh? What the fuck?!"

"So, be honest to us young master-nim." Ron spoke with his benign smile. "Young master-nim, are you hiding something from us~?"

Vicious people. Cale suddenly wanted to escape this hellish place. What the heck are they talking about?! What secret child?! What happened while he was asleep?!

Then, Hans barged into his room. "Mister Ron! The Duke has fainted!" Fuck it, let him sleep slack in peace!

[hyucksos]

heavy is the crown — mark lee [preview]

pairing: mark lee x f!reader genre: fantasy/supernatural au, crime-action, angst, romance preview wc: 1.2k (actual wc: tbc) synopsis: a series of visions lead you to mark lee, a seemingly normal human boy with no ties to the world of the gifted— your world. as such, you're concerned as to why you keep seeing him in your dreams, and the army of wraiths that just can't seem to leave him alone despite him being powerless... or so you thought. as he joins you at the academy, you learn that there may be more to this mark lee than you thought there was. taglist: open | click here to join

You had no idea what Taekwondo was. At least, not until today.

According to Donghyuck, it’s a form of martial arts, similar to the combat training you go through at the academy every day. You weren’t actually sure on whether to believe him or not considering Donghyuck is Donghyuck and his whole life before joining the academy sounded like a jumble of lies (you learnt not to trust him wholeheartedly after he convinced you that bananas were considered a delicacy in the outside world. He made you eat them with a knife and fork for a full week).

But now, as you’re sitting amongst the sea of heads in the stands overlooking the arena below, you think that Donghyuck might just be telling the truth this time.

You tug on the gloves that hug your hands and forearms, the latex that sticks uncomfortably to your skin not at all helping in easing your nerves. You rarely step foot outside the academy— not like it’s ever been restricted; you know being in unfamiliar environments could potentially spike your elemental, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally committing arson, or anything like that. As much as you hate your gloves, you know they keep you safe, which is why you keep them on.

Weirdly enough, nobody seems to pay you any mind; not with your gloves, not even with the bulky silhouette of your hanbok-like uniform you knew you should have changed out of before coming here. It’s as though you’re invisible, everyone’s eyes fixed on the arena below.

“The next match is about to begin. In the blue corner representing Blue Wave Taekwondo, here to show off his agility and skill— let’s give it up for Jeno Lee!”

You startle when the people around you cheer loudly, and you slowly bring your own hands together to join in on the applause. You can’t really make out the athlete’s face as he steps into the ring, most of his features blocked by the helmet he dons. You’re curious, having never seen a sparring match that required this much gear before— then again, you suppose that's just how it goes for an ordinary human sport.

“And in the red corner, known for his speed and precision, Kick It Dojang’s very own Mark Lee! Let’s give him a warm welcome!”

The buzz of the crowd fades into the background the moment your gaze lands on the boy decked in red and white, but you don’t register it until a second later— not until he straightens his back after bowing to his opponent, and his eyes meet yours.

A sharp pain suddenly hits your temples, and you hiss as your head falls to your hands. Immediately, the world starts to warp.

You’re looking at the boy from your visions, the boy you now know as Mark Lee. His head lies in your lap, lifeless, his skin pale and cold. Shadows swirl around you, whispering things you don’t understand.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice trembling. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.”

But nothing.

The whispers grow louder, your own voice feeling like it's being drowned out by their presence. Your chest starts to tighten with the weight of the darkness-

The vision cuts off abruptly, and you’re left breathless as your eyes refocus to the arena before you. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but Mark is still in the ring, already in the midst of sparring with his opponent.

Your visions of him were what led you here in the first place, each one like fragments of a puzzle pulling you closer and closer. They're mostly brief, but you know they mean something, especially because of the shadows that would often surround him as they hiss with intent you couldn't decipher.

But this one was different.

For the first time, he had a name. For the first time, you saw him up close— vulnerable, his life resting in your hands as the wraiths closed in around you both.

It felt like the collision of two separate worlds that were never supposed to merge, and you know that this was no ordinary vision. Whatever it is that just happened... it was only the beginning.

And you knew you needed to let Mark know.

Mark bounces his head to the music blasting through his wired earpieces, his eyes trained on his scuffed Converses as he walks. He's been told it's a real bad habit, to not watch where he's going (especially when he couldn't even hear his surroundings most of the time), but he swears he's working on it. Plus, his headphones aren't even the noise-cancelling kind, so he's still able to hear what goes on around him, albeit only partly; like right now.

Mark stops in his tracks, pulling out one of the buds from his ears as he looks behind him.

Nothing.

It's been happening a lot recently, to get the sensation of someone whispering in his ear only for him to look up and realise that he's alone. He's tried brushing it off as a gust of wind— even a figment of his own imagination— but he knows better than to believe that, not when the night is too still, too quiet, and he's far from losing his mind.

He also knows better than to ask if anybody's there— he's seen enough horror movies to know how badly that would end for him.

Perhaps walking through the park at this hour wasn't his best idea in the first place.

Mark stares idly at the barely-lit pavement for a few seconds more before bringing his earbud back to his ear, turning back around to resume his walk— only to be met with you.

He stumbles backwards with a startled gasp, his phone almost falling from his hand before he realises that no, you're not a ghost.

You’re the girl from earlier.

Of course, Mark remembers you. How could he not, when you're the only one who stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of spectators? It was odd enough as it is for him to be distracted right before a match, but there was just something about you that pulled him in; Mark couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Maybe it was your odd choice of attire, the traditional Korean-inspired silhouette of your all-black trench coat that cinched at your waist, or maybe it was the latex gloves that caught his attention first.

Either way, he’s feeling it again, that magnetic pull that renders him unable to look away, and it's not just because you're pretty— it feels as though there's literally something weighing him down, pulling on his chest.

Before he could question it, he notices your eyes lose focus on him, settling on something behind him instead. You’re the first one to break the silence.

"Duck."

Mark frowns. "What?"

In a split second, you're already ripping off your gloves, a flame roaring to life in your palm before you hurl the fire over his shoulder.

Mark’s confusion morphs into a split-second horror as he instinctively ducks, stumbling over his own two feet as he hears the air behind him fill with an otherworldly screech. Still, he dares himself to look over his shoulder, just in time to see multiple shadowy figures burst into flames before dissolving into nothingness.

The sight only causes Mark to fall on his butt, his neck snapping back towards you.

“What the hell was that?” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “And- what- what did you just do?”

You let out a shaky breath, flicking your bare wrist before you put on your glove, almost nonchalantly. Almost like you didn’t just shoot fire out of your hands.

Oh, maybe he is losing his mind.

[haine-kleine]

dunno if I should call this a headcanon or a theory and I know Horikoshi just went with what looked cool but the more I think about Dabi's initial design when he came to the League in the context of what we learned about him and what we saw happen to him during the second war, the less sense it makes that his body was already in that state.

according to the anime, he was learning by watching Endeavor's videos online. before Sekoto, he wasn't learning from any source at all and went about his training intuitively, but after Sekoto I strongly doubt he would be actively practicing his quirk, for a multitude of reasons. his body was still healing from the skin transplantation, the trauma associated with accidentally burning himself to death, plainly not having a place to train a fire quirk, which tend to be flashy and to use your quirk in public, having a provisional license is required, otherwise he risks getting arrested. he did a very good job staying out of the public's eye for the 7 years since he escaped AFO, who was also implied to be unaware of Touya surviving for so long.

so as far as we know, all he did for those 7 years is lay low and be very online. which makes his remark to Spinner hilarious ngl, at least Spinner sprung up to action as soon as he saw something that had inspired him, while Dabi had spent 7 whole years sitting on his very personal trauma and not going to therapy.

when Giran brings him to Shigaraki, he doesn't share any information about Dabi save for him being very invested in Stain's ideology. no criminal records, maybe, but not even a word of his absurdly strong quirk? no mentions of arson at all? they did discuss Toga making it to the news, so Dabi being left out like that was a bit weird in the context of the conversation, like him seeking out Stain's contacts was enough reason to let him join the League. he won't be useful to you, Shigaraki, but he's got the spirit. please take him in, he has nowhere else to go?

if you really look at the way Dabi uses his quirk until MVA, it's noticeable how he seems to have no idea what he is doing. there's no technique, no finesse to his moves, just throwing out huge blasts of fire with his hands and hoping for the threat to leave him alone.

when Shigaraki attacked him (fully provoked) his reaction was too slow to summon any flames at all, and if it weren't for Kurogiri, that would have been it for Dabi.

When he is fighting Geten and starts going beyond his limit, he scares himself with the increased fire output. because, yup, overusing his quirk by accident was the source of his trauma.

the databook puts his technique as the weakest of his stats. his power is huge and eventually allowed him to become the strongest fire quirk user in the BNHA universe, but his technique was extremely lacking.

all of the above just doesn't paint the picture of someone who has been consistently mastering his quirk for 7 years. rather, it gives the picture of someone who had just started using his quirk for the first time in years, having background training from his childhood.

it's not even that Dabi isn't hardworking as hell or doesn't have the potential to be trained, because he's a complete opposite. continuously going beyond his limit, despite his own body getting in his way, mastering Enji and Shouto's complicated techniques they have worked for weeks/months/years on in a matter of minutes after just observing it. surely, he has been watching Enji and learning the way his father uses his quirk for years, but putting theory to practice? i doubt he even had the chance, before joining LOV.

he had to wait, because starting to actively use his quirk sets the clock into motion, counting down the time he has left. he is like a candle, destroying himself with his fire, until nothing is left at all. he had to make sure his plan of revenge will have a chance to succeed before fully committing to the 'Dabi' route, a slow and agonizing process of cremating himself by continuously using his quirk. because when he really starts using his quirk for long stretches of time? this is what happens to him.

to conclude this post, I know why the final design was chosen (because it's cool as fuck) but after analyzing the crucial points of Touya's story and his relationship with his quirk, I really think him joining the League with post-coma design would have made more sense. once he had started really using his quirk, his body would slowly degrade to the state Dabi's was in, because his fire literally melts his skin. but his body already having 40% surface third degree burns, when he didn't even use his quirk the entire time, perfectly holding up up until the first war arc and then quickly starting to burn down? idk, seems a bit inconsistent?..

anyway, i love the concept of Dabi's skin slowly and inevitably burning down after he had joined the League. him losing more and more skin until there's barely anything left, when he reveals himself to his father and is bitter at the lack of recognition, because burning himself to the point of being unrecognizable was one of the many sacrifices he had made to be finally seen by Endeavor.

also, more of this. because this was bittersweet as hell

[frnkiebby]

Frnkiebby’s FellowWhore Appreciation Day(week) Installment Number One:

(if you have criticism, it’s welcome. but keep it constructive. my life motto is ‘arson is the answer’ for a reason)

You didn’t realize that Frank was no longer at your side until you turned your head to ask him a question.

“I— Frank??”

When you turned to look behind you, you saw him looking into the window of the new shop that had opened the previous week. Smiling to yourself, you walked back to him, scuffing your feet against the cement to catch his attention.

“When did this get here?” he asks, almost offended that he didn’t notice.

“Like….maybe opened a week ago or so?” you made a face and shrugged.

Frank just gapes at you. The look of incredulity on his face breaks any sort of commitment to being serious with him. It’s almost as if once you start laughing you just can’t stop. You’ve never seen a grown man in his 30’s get so miffed over not being told about a new vintage record shop opening up in a town that had at least five other record shops in the vicinity.

“Well you could’ve told me.”

“Is that my job?” you ask. Frank narrows his eyes at you and you have to try even harder to not start laughing again.

“Maybe it fuckin’ should be” he grumbles.

Before you can think of a quip back, he turns and pulls the door, frowning when it doesn’t open. You put your hand over your mouth and just watch the scene unfold. Frank looks to the open sign on the door and back to the handle, pulling again.

“I—“

“Frankie. Baby. See that sign? ��push’? You’ve gotta push the door open.”

You make a pushing motion when his head whips around to snark something in response. Likely to tell you that you’re wrong. That is until the door swings open and Frank nearly tumbles into the shop owner.

“Oh! Sorry about that young man! I thought maybe the door was stuck again….you do know this is a push door right? Did I make that sign big enough? I’m so sorry!”

The sound of your hand flying to cover your mouth is loud enough that it causes the older gentleman to look at you in confusion.

“No! No, Sir the sign is perfect, your store is perfect! He was just so excited about looking around that I think he just wasn’t paying attention.”

If looks could kill, you would have been dead seven times over with the one playing across Frank’s face. You simply smiled at him and threaded your fingers with his, holding his hand and smiling innocently up at the store owner.

“Well isn’t that sweet! I love seeing such young people taking an interest in older forms of media! Come in, come in!!”

The old man ushered the two of you in and flapped his hands at the numerous stacks and rows of vinyls before promising not to hover and retreating back to his stool behind the counter.

“he does know we’re in our 30’s….right??” Frank asks, leaning over to whisper while eying the owner with mild concern.

“Frank stop. Let the poor guy be excited about such young people taking an interest in older forms of media” you swatted his hand out of yours and nudged him toward the closest row “now go look for more records to add to your hoard.”

He rolled his eyes at you but it didn’t stop the smile that slowly grew on his face. The afternoon progressed in fits of giggles, bargaining between which record to add to your arms, and a very pleased old man thanking the two of you for an eventful time.

[causeimcrayzeebee]

Wolfgang Akire through the lens of the law: an analysis

i would like to give a disclaimer that while im very interested in the law, im not a lawyer or in law school. my knowledge comes from the few law classes i have taken, participation in a couple mock trials, and some personal research, so please take this with a grain of salt! if im missing something or saying something inaccurate, please let me know! i am always open to learning more!! not to mention this is my understanding of law in the United States, so this may differ by country.

in the end, this isn’t meant to be too serious, just using the knowledge i do have and applying it to p:eg!!!

okay now spoilers for the prologue and all of chapter 1!

well ig before we get into it let me say rest in peace a king... I will miss you, you hypocritical bastard........

alright, so firstly, let’s consider Wolfgang’s character profile.

two things stand out to me here. the first is how he has “successfully defended over 200 of his clients without dropping a single case.” we can infer that Wolfgang is a criminal defense attorney. it’s possible he could be a lawyer in the civil law sector instead, but considering his strong feelings about murder and crime, and the fact that this is Danganronpa, it leads me to believe he is a criminal attorney for the sake of relevance (I don't think any of us would care if he were a corporate attorney after all).

now, that sentence you just read is particularly interesting in the case of Wolfgang Akire. From the prologue's mock trial, we can see that Wolfgang feels very passionately about murder, condemning the murderer even without insight as to why they committed the crime, instead big on retribution and justice (which the definition of could definitely be debated). Yet, as a defense lawyer, Wolfgang would have been defending people from criminal accusations, from anything to armed robbery, arson, or murder. we’re not particularly sure on his view of other crime, but we can assume he also has a similarly negative view of it that he has of murder. out of 200 people (within such a short time span of finishing law school too), what are the odds that out of all 200, not one of them was actually guilty? of course, lawyers have the ability to drop or not take on cases, but as his profile says, he hasn’t dropped a single case! it’s quite possible he had complete faith that every client was innocent, but with the evidence and files he’d have to go through, he had to have seen something that was damning and prepared accordingly to address in the most sympathetic way possible to avoid prosecution winning their case. and that's the thing with Wolfgang; his job requires building sympathy for the accused, and it requires sowing seeds of doubt in prosecution's case. there had to have been someone that he was defending from an accurate charge(s). so whether he knew it or not, he has very likely defended people guilty of crime; and yet, he still feels very adamantly against them.

Here's where I fall short on my analysis; I honestly do not know what to make of this conclusion. his behavior and his ideals are almost contradictory in a sense. is this insight to wolfgang's clear hypocrisy? but what does that really say about him? I'd love to know what any of y'all think in regards to this :0

Now, the second thing that stands out to me is that he wants to make sure that everyone is fairly represented and make sure logic and evidence drive the discussion. While this does seem to be true, the mock trial shows that he lets his feelings become a big part of the discussion as well. everything he does screams prosecutor to me, so it was shocking to find out he works as defense. Wolfgang has a very interesting way of viewing things, almost dichotomous, unlike what his profile says. it's similar to the format of a trial, where it's not meant to be a team working together to find the complexities and nuance within a certain issue, but rather an attempt to prove your point and disprove the other side. trials aren't supposed to be a discussion where everyone reaches the truth together (Danganronpa trials are not very accurate but of course I don't think they were intended to be in the first place), they are for you to win your case-- as a defense attorney, its poking as many holes into the prosecution’s case as possible. (little fun side note, this is very similar to how debate works; Wolfgang and Damon are a lot more alike than one would originally think.)

Considering all of this, it makes me wonder if Wolfgang was intentionally trying to split the group apart,,,, because it's easier. because it makes more sense. as defense, lawyers may pin the crime on another, but without the burden of proof that prosecution does, they can sling out accusations to increase doubt on prosecutions case without having to actually prove it (that would be left for a separate case). it's easier to divide a group and have a bunch of people follow you while isolating the 'other side', and with that division made, it's more likely someone you isolated will be the 'villian' anyways; and in this case, this was true-- Eva, who has been socially ostracized her whole life, was driven to murder to protect herself from the blinding fear that everyone was out for her (even if that wasn't entirely true). this could be just how Wolfgang has gotten used to going through his life. maybe the bad habits he picked up from his father were the divisive kind of us vs them mindset lawyers have to have in a courtroom.

speaking of his father, let's address the motive-- there's so many things that Wolfgang's blackmail could be about; faking his law degree, not taking the bar exam, defending horrible people, the list goes on. Honestly, a scenario i have considered is that it's about him defending his father for a crime he actually did commit, yet winning the case; or his father commuting a crime in general and winning his case, leaving Wolfgang conflicted as that is the sort of thing he does all the time, yet his father had just taken away his mothers life and gotten free (this is very much just me guessing a possibility though). when Wolfgang was hallucinating, he says he's not like them (to diana who he thinks is someone else) and he'll never be like them; It's most likely that he saw his father. the theory I'm going with right now is that his father was at the very least heavily involved in the likely murder of his mother (thus bring her back in reference to his mom). his father was probably also a lawyer and may have pushed wolfgang into going into the field himself, especially when he sent him to law school as a teenager. maybe Wolfgang wanted to live up to the expectations his father had of him. who knows exactly what Wolfgang wanted everyone to know him as, it was probably a long the lines of a competent lawyer. but, as of right now it's all speculation (objection! haha.... that was not funny my bad), so again, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Another little funny thing i'd like to note is when Damon and Eva come back to the dinning hall and Wolfgang asks where they've been, Damon responds saying it was for discussing the motive. He's internally smug about how defeated Wolfgang seemed to be by that, and I thought that the funniest shit; very similar to being on cross examination, thinking you have the witness in your hands, when suddenly they wiggle out of your accusation. he's so real for that.

that is pretty much all i've got so far! let me know what y'all think and thanks for reading!!! :)

[chernabogs]

Belladonna, Forget-me-not, Hyssop, dwarf sunflower 🌻

ouagh thank you for sending a request <3 check out the list here! <3

Inc: Lilia (both present and general), Reader, Silver, Sebek mention WC: 3.5k Warnings: War mention, arson, crimes committed during war time (all my homies hate Silver Owls). Lilia cussing, as he should. Flowers: Belladonna (a confession given without words aka we are pining mentally in the club), Forget me not (the one thing I remembered and how it brought me back to you), Hyssop (one last walk through a house—sort of), Sunflower, dwarf (how many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?). Some flexibility with these. Summary: A trinket he had forgotten pulls him down a path of memories that he wishes he could forget.

There’s a sunflower in the garden this year. 

He thinks it’s quite curious when he first sees the bud, its petals still closed tight as though afraid to enter the world. He’s standing outside of the front door of his cottage with a mug in hand as he gives it a scrutinizing look. The silence of the forest surrounding his home lets him focus ample attention on how this oddity came to be. Silver has run to town and won’t be back until the evening, aiding Sebek in purchasing school supplies for the coming year, and Malleus is likely packing in his eagerness to get out of the palace for another ten months. 

It’s just Lilia, his mug, and the sunflower. 

“Shy, are we?” He murmurs in amusement as he raises the mug to his lips before they twist to a wry grimace. Perhaps being alone is not good for him—he’s beginning to speak to his gardens like an old man already. 

He wisely turns heel and re-enters the cottage as he downs the bitter coffee before discarding the mug in the sink. He’ll wash the dishes before Silver gets home, only because he knows the boy will do it all himself if he doesn’t, which would do nothing but make Lilia feel guilty. Silver insists it’s fine, he’s happy to help his father—but it shouldn’t be that way. His brow furrows in dissatisfaction as he weaves through the cottage's halls to arrive at his bedroom.

Contrary to his room at NRC, this one is so barren it looks downright unoccupied, like no one has ever lived in it to begin with. Lilia had moved most of his valuables with him when he had received notice of his pending enrolment alongside Malleus. This at least makes sorting out what he’s to wear today much easier as he pulls open the closet to peer inside. His fingers dance along the various fabrics as he hums, and haws, and already knows he’s going to wear the same outfit he wears essentially every day.

Lilia Vanrouge has become a man of consistency—another factor that serves to paint him as ‘old’. 

“Decrepit, even,” he grumbles to himself as he tosses his clothes onto the bed. Perhaps he can spice it up a bit to combat these self-perpetuated accusations through the application of an accessory. The thought pleases him enough to make him reach for the top shelf of his closet, his hand hitting against objects and shoving things around in his bid to grab something useful. Maybe he would have benefited from just floating up to see what he needed to get, because his hand soon hits an item that topples off the shelf and nearly clocks him in the face.

“Shit!” He snarls as he moves back. The box clatters to the floor by his foot with a loud rattle, causing him to glare down at it accusingly. His eyes narrow as another low curse slips out and he fumbles to pick the box up. 

It’s made of carved wood—oak, by the weight of it. Each etching along the sides paints a tale that draws Lilia to a stop as he turns it over in his hands. A figure perched on a tree branch with another sitting beneath, a blade and wood in hand. The two figures are next in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. Then they are standing beside each other by a body of water; the carving here is detailed enough that he can see apprehension in one’s gaze and sternness in the others. 

The final carving is incomplete, only because a blackened char mark has burnt the wood to an unusable state. 

Ah.

He remembers why he didn’t take this to NRC. He remembers why he had it shoved in the back of the closet like something rotten, something meant to be concealed. He feels his mood darken as he turns the box over again. Each nick, each mark, tells a tale of something that stirs a burning shame in his gut. His hands tighten enough that he hears the wood creaking under his strength before they relax once more. 

Then, he pauses. Silver won’t be back until far later in the day. He has nothing to do but wash a mug that now sits fermenting in his sink. Beyond this, he’ll simply be wandering from room to room in his cottage like a ghost, perhaps cutting some firewood, perhaps seeing if the bloody quails that have been tormenting his vegetable gardens are back. 

Lilia moves until the back of his knees hit his bed and he sits down, cradling the box more gently now. A sudden urge—a bit of masochistic curiosity—tugs at his heart as his lips curl into a sneer. His thumb brushes against the carving of the figure crouching in the tree. 

Well, if he needs a good way to kill an hour or so. 

“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.” 

_________________________________________________________

The memory begins as it always did any time that he did this. He’s just over 300 years old, his hair long and his body perched on the branches of a tree. He forgot that if he’s personally in the memory, his magic has a habit of tossing him headfirst directly into his body again. The scent of pine overwhelms him as he looks across a Briar Valley that once was just as full of life as he. Green, as far as the eye can see, and the songs of birds that have since gone extinct filling the warm air. 

He shifts on the branch and closes his eyes for a moment as he drinks it all in. Things long since gone, things he wishes he could experience just one more time in his current life. He almost loses himself in the memory—a dangerous risk—before he hears the faint sound of scraping from beneath where he’s perched.

Lilia’s eyes snap open and his gaze travels down to see a figure with a cloak sitting against the pine tree, their hood pulled up as their hands expertly carve a piece of wood with their blade. He can’t quite tell what it is they’re making—and truthfully, he’s long since forgotten. 

But the sound of their voice as they hum an old folk song he hasn’t heard since the war times makes him tense all the same. 

You.

Fuck.

The uncomfortableness of the situation, the realization that perhaps doing this was a mistake on his part, makes him shift back on the branch. This is enough to make a few twigs snap and force your attention to jerk upwards to where he lay. His red gaze locks onto yours as every sound in the forest falls silent and all he knows is the confusion in your eyes. 

“How long have you been up there?” You blurt out, your voice sounding exactly how he hears it in his dreams for the past four hundred years. A strangled sound leaves his throat, and with all of the energy he can muster, Lilia jerks himself free of the memory. 

_________________________________________________________

He stutters for air as his eyes open once more and he grips the box tight. The carving of his body on the branch overlooking yours at the base is now just a mockery for things he foolishly lost. The only way he can know you now is through the use of magic, and even that cannot return you entirely. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he was in the memory for fifteen minutes, despite it feeling only like mere seconds. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. He turns the box over in his hand to look at the next carving. The two figures in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. He notes with a bitter amusement that they’re all sunflowers.

The box should go back on the top shelf. He should lock it away again and forget it, leave it for Silver to find only once his father is dead and rotting under the earth. Perhaps the boy can finish what the humans started—burning it to nothing but cinders. 

He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, and yet… 

“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.” 

_________________________________________________________

Lilia finds himself standing in a small cottage eerily reminiscent of his own. He knows a few months have passed since the first encounter by the way there’s snow falling heavily from the skies outside. Briar Valley’s winters are vicious—as untamed as the land itself once had been before metal teeth had torn it apart and left the fae to clean its viscera. His gaze travels to the window nearby to look out at the landscape before it’s drawn upwards to the flowers hanging down from the sill. 

Sunflowers, which look as fresh as the day they were likely picked, paint a cheery picture against the bleak backdrop beyond. 

“I am afraid it isn’t quite perfect, but it should do the trick to warm you up.” Your voice's soft cadence causes his shoulders to tense as he doesn’t turn around to face you. He can hear you humming, the sound of a bowl being set on a nearby table, and the aroma of something so intoxicating it makes his stomach twist in phantom hunger. “Why were you rushing through this blizzard to begin with?”

Lilia blinks as silence falls. You’re waiting for his response. This likely won’t play out unless he gives it.

“Her majesty bid me to deliver a missive to Princess Meleanor.” He murmurs, eyes still fixated on the sunflower. They almost look real to him despite the knowledge that this is nothing but an illusion. He hears you hum in disapproval. You often did that—hummed a lot, laughed a lot.

“Terrible weather to be doing so, but I suppose if it’s urgent, you can’t sit on it. At least have something to eat before you go braving Briar Nation once more.” 

His head turns slightly so that he can catch a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. Your back is to him as you scoop more food into a second bowl. You’re not unique—just another fae in a nation of many—but you stand out to him. Four hundred years later, he still struggles to rationalize why. 

“You must like sunflowers a lot.” He comments abruptly. He didn’t say this in the memory, and he can tell by the way it seems to stutter around him. You still turn and look at him in confusion, however. “You only have sunflowers hanging on your window.”

“Oh!” You seem surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces your face. He wishes he had never seen that again. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

He wants to say something, perhaps ‘I know’, but the memory melts away before the words can leave his tongue.

_________________________________________________________

Lilia tastes copper when his eyes snap to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes have gone by now—another fifteen in the previous memory. His hands shake slightly as he turns the box over like a man under a compulsion. The carving of two figures by the water seems to be taunting him as his thumb traces across your body. 

He doesn’t even bother speaking the phrase clearly this time. It comes as a mumble, and suddenly he’s falling into darkness again. 

_________________________________________________________

Tension is palpable when Lilia opens his eyes. Although it’s spring, the warmth seems nonexistent in the air as deafening silence fills where he stands. You’re by his side, your arms crossed tight over your chest as you stare at the pond beyond. By your feet, a patch of sunflowers smiles up at the bright skies above.

“How much longer do you think it will last before they wipe it clean?” You ask, your voice containing barely concealed rage as your nails dig into your sleeves. His jaw clenches as he shrugs one shoulder.

“A week. A month. A year. It could be any amount of time. They have new machines that they’ve been using—new means to rip open our nation to reach its heart.” He scoffs and turns sharply. “Fucking humans. Why did they need to come here to begin with? We were fine before they came crawling onto our shores, with their bitching, and moaning, and noxious fucking machines!”

“Lilia.” Your voice is calmer as he feels your hand touch his arm. His fury simmers slightly under this action. “At least we’re gaining some ground against them, right? And they haven’t reached all of Briar Nation yet. I can still provide game and herbs to the neighbouring villages—there’s an abundance surrounding my cottage.” 

Lilia wants to say that’s because all of the animals are being driven deeper into the woods, but he holds his tongue as he meets your steadfast gaze. In the period of time since he’s come to know you, he’s also realized that your stubbornness will have you refuting every claim with an optimistic one of your own. Already you had staunchly refused to leave your cottage despite the looming threat drawing ever so nearby.

“I need to go soon.” He finally sighs as he tears his gaze away from you to the pond again. He hasn’t seen this pond since the war era simply because he knows it was drained for the Silver Owls' use. He hears your own sigh slip out as you remove your hand. The skin that you touched aches in its absence. 

He steals a glance at you and tries to preserve your side-profile in his mind. If he could, he would carve it onto every surface he possessed, marking every line and bump that comprised the masterpiece that is you to his liking. He has already devoted himself by this point to mapping these curves with his fingers under the shadow of Briar Nations endless nights. He has memorized every sound you make, as sweet as any song can be, and which places on your body elicit such music. You had both entered this dance as a means to release stress—but now, four hundred years later, he knows it meant so much more. 

He wants to sweep you in his arms. He wants to pull you to safety, to silence your protests with hushed whispers and utterances of his devotion. He wants to pour his heart into your hands until he’s empty and belonging entirely to you. He is a man who, once he devotes himself to something, gives endlessly until he remains a ghost of who he once was.

He loves you in this moment, where the sun dapples your skin, and he can pretend he’s still in the Briar Nation he knew. So, he breaks conduct again. 

“You should leave.” The memory wavers at his words. In the past, he had simply turned at this point to begin returning to your cottage so that he could ready his travel pack. “You should go to the next village over. Go somewhere safe.”

The memory wavers again, fraying along the edges, and yet still Lilia finds himself persevering. “Please. I don’t want to see what’s going to happen next.” 

You turn to look at him as his vision begins to darken. Your brow furrows, confusion etching your face as the last words you speak feel like a nail in his own coffin. 

“Lilia, this is my home.”  

_________________________________________________________

He doesn’t immediately speak as he comes back again. The clock shows forty-five minutes have passed now, and the lighting in the bedroom he sits in has altered to reflect this. A numbness has crept into his body and settled just below his skin. It fluctuates and writhes like an insect and causes him to shiver as he rotates the box once more.

The last carving is incomplete. The black marks that mar its surface guarantee this. Faintly, he can smell smoke on both the box and his hands as he traces his thumb across this, as well.

It comes back filthy. 

Lilia’s expression schools itself to a blank look as the silence of the empty cottage perpetuates. Only his breathing breaks the still air, stuttering slightly as his lips part. 

“... far cry cradle.” 

_________________________________________________________

Lilia can smell it before he sees it. Wood, smouldering in the unforgiving winter sun, accompanied by something more pungent and feral. He’s already running by the time he snaps into the memory, his feet dragging through heavy snow as he fights against the elements to reach the treeline. He can see dark smoke pluming upwards.

It’s always too late by the time he arrives. 

His steps slow, his feet drawing to a stop as cold snow soaks through his pants. Before him lays a painting of carnage, crafted by human hands, and displayed for the eyes of any fae passing by. Footsteps trample in the aged snow that surrounds the smouldering husk of the structure. Your words regarding your cottage being in a hot spot for game and herbs ring as a mockery now in his ears as he slowly, slowly, inches closer. 

“Hello?” His voice cracks as the words leave him. The forest echoes them back—hello? Hello? Hello?

Stone dust scatters across the white earth as his hand comes to touch the frame you had been so proud of when you had first shown it off. Burnt, with embers still smouldering in the wood. He feels afraid to step further, but he knows that if he doesn’t then he’ll never get the satisfaction of knowing whether you may have survived it or not. 

Lilia passes through the door frame. He looks up to what remains of your roof, to the space where sunflowers once hung, and then just beyond the large wooden table you had carved for yourself as well. A small box sits perfectly on its blackened surface, like it had been placed on display intentionally for his discovery. 

The memory begins to blur at this point. Things that should be there soon bleed into black outlines, dripping down onto the floor with a rhythmic thump. He can see static in what looks like the shape of an arm peeking out from behind the table leg as his stomach twists, and rage begins to flood through his veins in place of blood. A stuttering breath leaves him as the static arm remains still.

He is General Lilia Vanrouge. He is a soldier. He is meant to protect his people, and yet, and yet—

_________________________________________________________

Lilia snaps out of this memory by throwing the box to the floor. It clatters at his outburst before he kicks it viciously into the closet, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps as he does. His mind is a blur as his one hand grips the sheets beneath him and the other grabs his collar, trying to ground him in the moment before the whole world spins out of proportion. 

He is not General Lilia Vanrouge. He is not a soldier. He is not walking into the home of the person he thought he loved, forced to bury what was left of them in a pauper's grave—just another loss in the wartime. 

He is a man, sitting in his cottage, with a son who will be home by evening and a school he needs to pack for. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his face into his hands as he shakes himself free of the thoughts. “Fuck... fuck!”

A brief glance at the clock shows an hour has passed by now. His chest feels heavy, and his mind full of cotton as he dresses in a mechanical manner before going about his chores for the day.

By the time Silver returns, he’s fought off the quails, weeded the garden, cut firewood, and cleared the gutters. What he hasn’t done is clean the mug that’s been sitting in the sink since the morning—a task that Silver happily takes on after Lilia looks close to losing it.

If his son notices anything else off about his father, he says nothing about it, but Lilia does note the way Silver seems a bit more talkative than usual this evening. Lilia’s mind continues to replay the memories he experienced in a macabre theatrical viewing as he tries hard to listen to what Silver is saying. Eventually, they both fall silent as Silver washes the mug, along with the dishes from dinner in addition. The sun is beginning to set when he pauses to peer out the window with a curious expression.

“Did you see the sunflower in the garden?” Silver asks, his voice soft as he finishes drying off the mug. Lilia raises an eyebrow as he looks up again.

“What about it?” 

“It opened up.” Silver looks surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces his face. Lilia’s eyes widen as he notes the similarities between the childish joy on his son's face, and that which he once saw on your own.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

General Headcanons with DOA Boys

Headcanon: General headcanons of stuff I think they will do Pairing: Fyodor x reader, Nikolai x reader and Sigma x reader Genre: Fluff, lowkey crack A/N: Thank you dc person for that one fyodor headcanon. →Masterlist

Nikolai

He probably likes to eat mud for fun and force everyone to eat it

You both secretly sneekout of the hideout and visit beaches at night, having deep conversation which would end up with him filling your shorts with sand

he likes to place insects and rats in your closet stating it is a harmless prank. Not even Sigma is excused from his pranks

Nikolai irrespective of being a prankster would gift you with ice-creams and bakery goods [to lactose intolerant ppl, he gives u popsicles]

that was until he decided to prank you once day and put hair in your food

Never fell into his 'get in hole' game. You got stuck in it for 40 days without food and water. No kidding.

The mysterious hole is filled with nothing but junk.😭😭 very questionable junk

You both love to prank others though.

"Let's plant the bomb under Sigma's bathtub" "Extra points make it filled with pink glitter"

Sigma was covered in pink glitter for thirteen days.

But! Personally Nikolai would be one of the best cuddlers in the manga/anime

The first time he wore normal clothes instead of his usual multi layered buisness clothing, you were in tears. How could someone pull such simple clothes so fashionably?

You like to braid his hair. Even if you suck at it, he would wear your braiding loud and proud.

"Ahh quiztime! Who braided my hair?" "Sir this is-" "Wrong answer," boom "it's my love YN who braided it, you are no fun"

And that's how the city's McDonald's got blowed up.

overall he is a good insane boyfriend, so 10/10 cause I love him 😋

Fyodor

This man

I swear he is fine asf but would probably learn all the instruments you like so he can play it to you when you are kidnapped by Dazai most prob.

he is a Lil more insane then Nikolai so he would probably boom North Korea cause he was bored. [NK people i am jk-]

"what did you have for breakfast" "I don't know" "wrong answer" And the next moment you know, South of Yokohama got blowed up

He is the most broken richest man you ever met.

he can't buy clothes for himself or even upgrade the doa office but will gift you a wholeass country as a Birthday return gift.

you force him to wear dresses and paint his nails, 😭 but my man is so down bad that he is sub in this relationship.

"Sir we have bombed the tunne-" "Good verywell" "🧍🕯️" 😭 nah cause they are hella scared when he wears makeup.

He would probably take you to fireworks only for you to realise he is bombing the area again.

"fyodor, we talked about this" "No" and he proceeds to boom everything

he isn't much of a hugger and probably tries to runaway when you try to even touch him, but mf would suffocate you in his sleep with his hug

He probably had tried giving those evil laughs, but the moment he did that, he choked on air.

Me and a person on my server were having a convo and they said "He probably bites his nails to much and they are really short"

he owns a pet rat but denys it

honestly, he is a 10 but he is a terrorist who likes to bomb everything up. But he is your boyfriend and he is hot.

Sigma

-Are you the man of the relationship or he is?

he is more of a 'please don't kill anyone sweetheart' rather then supporting your actions and being a 'lets commit arson dear YN'

Mf is rich asf. He would deny it ofcourse and then proceed to shower you with silk clothes, Gucci , prada comfy…..such a sugar daddy

😭😭hear me out, he is a ball full of sunshine and anxiety but he wouldnt hesitate to kill anyone who does wrong to you or his casino.

-"Sigma am I your first priority?" "Yes-?" "Is the casino your first priority?" "Yes-?" "Me or the casino?" "Yes"

He probably cries everytime you ignore him.

HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.

once Nikolai kidnapped you for fun and man did Nikolai end up being half bald.

Sigma wants you to stay away from fyodor, because the last thing he knows is that he want to give fyodor a bombing partner.

Atp he doesnt want you to interact any of the DOA members, because little did he know, you will grow more insane with them.

I like to imagine you knowing Dazai and mentioning it to Sigma on occasions, and oh boy Sigma wanted to kill the man when he first met not because you talked a lot about him, but he would probably be the reason why you pull questionable strunt

10/10 Mama Sigma

He also doesnt allow you to run away freely in his casino, for all he knows is that you will cheat and win all the games.

He is so restrictive

You both probably or possibly may have this convo:

"BUT FYODOR GIFTED HIS S/O A WHOLE ASS COUNTRY, WHY CANT I GET THAT PLUSHIE??" "You cant cheat everytime to get the plushies" "BUT-" "Fyodor is a terrorist, we are not like them" "LEAST HE GIFTED HIS S/O-"

Your arguments probably never make sense to others, but its for you and Sigma to know.

Also he gave up on scolding you every time you try to eat casino coins.

He is such a 'I am trying to keep my S/O mentally sane' boyfriend, even if he needs to go to therapy. 8/10 bf material

Guys get a Sigma. Sigmas never disappoint.

A/N: Btw the discord server if you wanna join is here.

[strawberymilku]

Playing Dangerous

featuring: Police!Leone Abbacchio x Fem!Reader

genres: nsfw!, crimes, mention of: thugs, arson, mafia, car sex, oral sex, blowjob, dirtytalk, one night stand, fingering, doggy style, praises, police theme, corrupt, minor gunplay

a/n: i was rewatching jojo, and ive been wanting to write a police smut with lana del rey lyrics as prompt, and my bf wnted to collab so i just had to write it. not proofread yet. might do part 2 for it. word: 4k, a bit long but it was worth it.

The woman was speeding for sure, but Abbacchio could doubt if she was the witness or the culprit for committing arson, Abbacchio heard the sound of the motorcycle approaching, and he turned to face the direction in which it was coming. It was heading straight in his direction-? He wasn't sure if the person on the bike was who he suspected it to be, but he raised his revolver as the bike came closer..it certainly looked suspicious...

"Why you?!" she yelled, cursing, he was brave enough that he did not care if he died to get her, pulling him on the side of the motorbike, with a swift dash, saving his life as he was at the back of her motorbike. It was the work of the Stand for sure, but sadly the man couldn’t see Stands like that yet but just felt someone lift him on her motorbike. That certainly caught him off guard. Was she just riding directly into him? The situation was unclear...Was she trying to run him over? To escape-? He was surprised at how quickly she acted. He could have been killed if it hadn't been for her, which meant..she couldn't be the arsonist, but she still looked suspicious..and yet she saved his life... Yet her actions are justified yet "Kill me later, what is wrong with you, you would be run across in my wheels," she had a gangly Italian accent, still on the motorbike with huge speed. "Am I getting a ticket for speeding too?" she said sarcastically. He looked at her back where a group of thugs were still chasing over her. Leone had a stunned look on his face. She was certainly lively, and rather..crude. He certainly wasn't expecting that attitude from a potential arsonist, but for some odd reason he didn't feel threatened by her- in fact, he was rather intrigued- she hadn't even noticed his police uniform. After a few moments of stunned silence, he finally replied

"Ah...I'm a police officer. But I can't just let anyone ride at such high speeds..why are you speeding away from people?" "They are after me, whaddya think," she went into different roads taking a lot of turns as the gang lost track of her, after minutes of having the stranger at the back, they stopped in a random alleyway, with a big sigh, she realized it was the cop, not that she’s afraid of him anyways. "It's my job to keep the streets safe and look out for suspicious behaviour- like someone on a motorcycle riding at dangerously high speeds in a residential area."

The suspicious behaviour mentioned included the arson incident at the local gas station that happened not a day ago. Although he didn't outright believe her, he decided to look into her claim. For now, he'd only ask questions to get a grip on the situation.

"May I ask what you were doing around that area where the suspected arson took place?"

"Arson? You think I'd commit arson-" Her lighter got pulled from her pocket, he was daring enough to get that from her leather jacket. "No, please, I'm a smoker," she pulled out her cigarettes to counter his proof. The policeman took a second to think. It would be highly unusual for someone to commit a criminal offense like arson just to cover up smoking. At the same time, he had no evidence proving her guilty yet. He decided to ask another more personal question.*  

"Why were they on your tail to begin with? Do you know why these gang members were after you?" That was a sensitive topic for a mafia’s daughter, no way she could leak her identity out like that. "Yes I do, I have my own reasons, which place was getting burned again?" she tilted her head, as she was demanded to show her license, but she looked reluctant to show it.

 There was still the issue of the gang members after her that he had to inquire about.

"The Shell station at the corner of Via Maddaloni and Via Caracciolo."

"I was at a Hilton Hotel I swear, you can get the evidence," she raised her arms, showing everything from her pocket. Everything seemed suspicious to Abbacchio, no way he could get information out of her mouth like that, so the best way was to flip her body quickly, putting her hands at his back as he slapped the metal handcuffs on her wrists, locking it. He was unsure why he did that but he believed this was the best way. She sighed, "My dad will be killing me if he finds out I’m going to be late,” it was too much for just speeding up in a motorbike.

He couldn’t help but raise a small smirk. Her hands being cuffed behind her back gave him a fair idea of what he could do to her.

"I suppose you aren't very much of a good girl?"

*"Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer,"* she replied still with her hands on her back as she was forced to walk back to where his car was. He let out a small laugh. It was rather amusing how easily she was acting so calm over being handcuffed and detained. Even if this incident would end up being a dead end for the arson case, he was still curious. She was just detained for being a suspect, just yet. Things are getting exciting.

"And exactly what is your name, miss?" 

“Y/N,” she grunted still feeling her wrist already from the handcuffs. “Well then Y/N, too bad, you will be a warrant for, ‘reckless driving, running through stop signs, driving at dangerously high speeds, running through red lights- and for suspicion of arson. You have the right to remain silent,” he said in a stern tone, he couldn’t help but smile at her rolling her eyes. *"No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure,"* she tried to pout her lips to use a charm on him, thinking he would let her go this time.

Abbacchio's smirk grew wider, as he tried not to laugh at her attempt at seduction.

"I don't think a pout will suffice for an excuse in court."

Her attitude was amusing he thought. Usually, people would be acting aggressively, but she seemed to have accepted the situation quite easily.

"Ah yeah, my dad told me not to talk to the police, because I can demand rights for a lawyer," she tried to rethink again, trying to stay silent as they slowly walked back to his car. She had the attitude of a spoiled teenager, but he couldn't help but be amused. Usually, people would be threatening legal action, not talking about their parents, but she was a different case.

"Your father told you not to talk to the police..? Is he one of those who would try to bribe officers to avoid arrest?"

"Oh really, does he?" she grinned, still using her legs to take sweet sweet time back to the car, it was taking so long than usual just to stall time as much as she could. She was certainly being flirty for someone who had just been arrested.

"If you're expecting me to be charmed you certainly have a poor way of showing it."

Though she certainly was charming..but he'd rather stay professional at the moment. He’s a committed policeman after all. "Am I going to jail for this?" her shoulders slouched at him trying to repeat what she committed as if he were his mom. “Like, *the house is already on fire right, I swear I’m not a liar,*” she added to him to second guess his decisions.

Abbacchio gave her a skeptical look. She definitely wasn't being completely honest. But what she said about the house being on fire definitely seemed more believable than her being the arsonist. It seemed like these gang members came after her for something else. He decided to ask just to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m not asking about the arson crime, I’m asking how are you related to those thugs, it’s very dangerous you know,” he tried to squeeze more questions to get more information out of her.

The girl didn’t reply, it was indeed a chilly night, her lips were quivering from the cold, even if she had the leather jacket on her. “Are you cold?” he asked with concern in his eyes, his hands on her handcuffs, yet pulling her close to him, trying to walk back where he came from.

*“Well, I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking.”* she smiled at him to look up at him with her eye smile.

"Did you owe them money? Did you have their illegal drugs? What's your ties to these gang members?" "Tell me do you always work so late?" she didn't answer his question, as she had the right not to though. She was very charming, but also very stubborn- he almost found it admirable. Maybe he should've taken her up on her earlier offer of charm. She seemed very confident in her ability to seduce him. It could be the right moment to give in to temptation.

"It's my job to watch the late night shift, what does my work schedule have to do with your involvement with gangs?"

*"Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?"* she tried to pull it out but it was not to avail. Still, she didn’t give up yet to flirt with him. Abbacchio gave her a small laugh at the girl, this was the moment for which he was hoping. That is, she was very much starting to flirt with him- so now was the perfect time to reciprocate. 

"Are you sure you're not trying to get me to take the cuffs off?"   

It might just be wishful thinking, but it certainly looked like she was trying to flirt. He was hoping for it anyway, and now she had given him the right opportunity by attempting to pull her cuffs off... But he must stay professional right?

*"Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer?"* she asked a question, still finding ways to flirt with him last minute possible. Finally, they arrived at the car that had printed ‘Polizia’ on it. “Playtime is over, get in the car,” he tried to stay in a demanding tone. The ‘officer’ word did get the man inhaled deeply, oh the things he could do with her right now, as he placed her in the backseat of the car, respectfully, restraining himself from touching her. He’s a good policeman, he couldn’t be doing that. *"You can ask me anything you want, anything, like anything,"* she smiled as he slowly fell for her trap, he decided to sit in the backseat, for a while, closing the car door behind him, and locking it, giving her a dirty smirk. Abbacchio chuckled and shook his head at her flirtatious comments, yet he also realized just how tempting the situation was.

"Anything, hmm?"

He thought for a bit. His mind started to wonder as he looked down at her. She was very appealing.

"What would you do, if I decided to uncuff you- right now?" "I don't know, officer," she looked at his lips then back to him. "You do like purple lipstick, don't you, what is it? Givenchy brand?" she joked, in between, giving a mysterious appeal to the policeman wanting to give in to his desires.

"Good guess. Though I may need more than just your beauty alone to convince me."

"Like what, officer?" she leaned closer towards his neck, it was rather a risqué attempt, she was down to play with fire too, from the looks in his eyes. Leone bit his lip slightly but he still tried to hold back, he wanted to stay professional and focused. But his heart couldn't help but race as she got close. He wondered how this would end...if there was a way he could fall for the trap.

The smell of her perfume hit his nose making it that much harder to focus. He was very tempted. She seemed to have been waiting for him to reply for a minute now. *"Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger?"* she'd be the one asking questions here instead, how the tables have turned, touching his chest on his police uniform, with her fingertips. This made him raise an eyebrow, the question she had just asked was a little unexpected. Though given he was staring directly at her lips he couldn't deny that he was rather tempted to take it as a sign. But he decided to answer nonetheless.

"I don't have a girlfriend..not at the moment anyway." "*Well that's interesting, have you thought of dating a* **mafia's daughter?**" she replied, dropping the biggest hint of all time, until he realized, no wonder why the gang was after her. He should let her go right? The thought of having her as a girlfriend was still tempting..her attractiveness, her flirtatious attitude, it was too much to ignore.

"Are you offering?" "Maybe I am, offering you a taste?" she leaned closer towards him slowly. It was obvious, that she a tease, still not kissing him, just yet, but their faces were just inches apart. Abbacchio held his breath. Her words were tempting, her attitude was tempting..and her lips were certainly tempting- all she had to do was just close the space between them and they'd be locked in a passionate kiss...

He felt like he might die if he didn't go through with their kiss. He wanted to play her game and play it perfectly. Her words had been tempting since she said them and he could only answer with one answer. 

Abbacchio took in a deep breath and nodded his head. **The flames are getting higher, and so is his desire. It's kind of exciting, don't you think?

"Am I playing a dangerous game, officer?" she teased, still not kissing him, just yet, she wanted to see how far this would go.

The policeman was gritting his teeth in anticipation. It was a dangerous game she was playing, and he knew he shouldn't play it. She was involved with the mafia after all. But the temptation was too much to pass up. He had to do it. The smell of her perfume still lingered, making it much more inviting.

"It's a very dangerous game." 

Abbacchio finally caved in. He knew he couldn't control himself anymore. He closed the distance and pulled her towards him, giving in their passionate kiss. She crashed on her lips softly, melting right down on this gothic policeman, without shame, he was worth a one-night stand, but she didn't really care, their kisses became hotter and hotter each second, he gripped her body, forcing her onto his thighs, looking up at her. Their kiss has started to deepen. His lips brushed against hers as he pulled her even closer. This girl..she was too irresistible. Her flirting and teasing, even the danger of her being involved with the mafia. He just wanted more. She touched his badge and looked up at him. "Abbacchio was it?" she kissed him once more, not enough of his kisses, at this point the purple lipstick has been worn off at this point, some even staining her lips.

"That is my name, yes." "So officer~" the way she said was so enticing, 

"What am I supposed to do now?" she felt his hands roaming all across her body, as if he owned her right here, no tonight, he could do whatever he wanted for tonight. 

"Will I be forgiven for this, officer?" she was like a crime he must commit just for tonight, a sin he wouldn't regret doing, for sure.

"I guess I'll have to figure out how to punish you for this..for now though, I'm sure you don't mind my hands on your body, hmm?"

His smile was quite teasing too and even though he was trying to appear professional, it was clear he was enjoying this quite a lot. He leaned back in and began kissing her again. He gave her a look that told her he was enjoying this as his hands stayed firmly on her hips. “Let’s make this exciting for the both of us,” he pulled out his revolver from his waistband, pointing at her head. He must tried it out at least, he needed to have the upper hand as well. "Officer, I will do anything to repent," her words were dripping as if it was made of honey, she wasn’t even fazed the gun barrel was pointed at her head, biting her lips. Things have gotten out of hand. "You will, will you?" he grinned of mischievous how he liked her under his power.

"How about you tell me what you'd do to repent- and I'll think about it and see if it's enough of a punishment for you." "First, I'd unbuckled that belt of yours and..." her eyes trailed downwards at the seat at the bulge forming in his navy blue pants and up to his golden purple eyes, that would be enough for his imagination to do the rest of the work. “Okay then, get to work, don’t just be an all talk,” he pressed the revolver harder on her skin, geez this man was full of sass, which made her actually take off his pants, obeying his orders, just as he wanted her to. "Oh, please don't shoot me yet, Mr Polizia, I will be good," she unravelled his hard cock from his underwear, palming it between her small hands trying to please him, her handcuffs were still on.

"So you'll be a better girl if I don't shoot you?"

He looked down at her with a teasing and tempting look, she was really quite the girl. This was the most teasing, dangerous girl he had ever come across on the job. “You know your small hands aren’t in good use, use your mouth,” he demanded, pointing the gun directly at her and even though he wasn't gonna shoot, she could clearly see the barrel against her. He looked at her with a teasing grin. She looked so pretty under him, and all the power he had on her. She nodded at his orders, bending down, licking his wet tip for a while, which made him have a satisfying moan, his impulse made him push his right hand on her head, pushing her mouth closely for the blowjob. His breath was shaky already as he felt every part of her mouth on his dick, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, it was all worth it. Worth it from a tiring shift, she was trying to suck him good, she looked like she was an expert at this, feeling his tip pushed against her throat, she was trying to be his only little good girl, a good girl just for Mr Policeman right here. Oh, how he’d wish he could possibly want her every night. Her mouth was starting to tire her, as all her saliva was all around his base, “Abbacchio, sir, are you satisfied yet?” she looked up at him for his mercy, for his approval, for his attention, with those orbs. “Not yet, I wanted to cum on your face,” he pointed the gun at her, demanding to resume her lips to work again. Her head bobbed again and again, trying to please him as much as she could, deepthroating him, her tongue twirling on his length. She liked how much vocal he was, praising her, for her good use of the mouth.

“My god, you weren’t lying when you said you will have your mouth in good use,” that was the best blowjob he received in his life so far, feeling every orgasm trying to rip from his heated skin. After minutes of torturing her throat, he finally gave in, painting on her face with his white liquids, with a satisfied smug face. “Uh, uh, uh, mi amore,” he had a menaced look over her with a tsk, “Who said I was done with you?” for a policeman like him, having stamina could be true. He bent her over, his gun still pointing at her. The time to show who is the monster here, not giving her a break.

“Look here, girl, *if you can't stand the heat. Then stay out of the fire,*” he groped all over breasts, throwing the gun away on the floor of the car. She happened to listen all to his command, like a good little girl, he pulled down her bottom clothing, his fingers trying to play her folds through her underwear, trying to tease her. “Oh, your cunt is wet here, *you might get what you desire*,” he put the underwear aside, rubbing on her clit, trying to gain some moans from her. Things are starting to get interesting. “I’m not putting on anything, yeah, just to warn you,” his cock tried to get between her wet folds, just like that. “I-uh, policia, please don’t you have a condom-” her mouth was shoved with the finger he got her pussy juices on. “Lick it up,” she couldn’t deny such requests from the hot officer, licking it, while he kept pounding her behind her back. Not enough, he needed to feel every wall of her just like that. “I’m going raw, so shut your pretty mouth like that,” He had an enormous speed, gripping her waist, her arms against the tinted glass, the car starting to fog up from the movements, “Listen here, little girl, and listen good,” he raised her body good, her boobs all over the window glass at this point, she screamed more as her G spot has been getting all this abuse from the sudden position.

“Please, please, have mercy on me, officer-” her words were cut as he pushed his fingers in her throat, attempting to shut her mouth. This man is indeed wild, the luckiest night for a girl like her. **”Even if you scream, or beg me to stop, or have mercy, I’m not stopping,”** he rutted inside her cunt as if it was meant to be shaped by his large cock.

“Not until I’m satisfied,” he hummed, using it as if she was a toy she was made just for him to fuck her. Her cries and moans filled the whole street, think to their luck no one was in the streets, a few maybe. Do you this man cares? No? **“Not like you can stop me anyways, hmm?”** he didn’t stop his thrusts, her pussy aching from all the movements, their moans were in unison. She was already tired at this point, getting the slaps on her buttocks, his hand making her chin move just to kiss him as he kept railing behind her back, his lusts and desires being fulfilled by this one girl. “If you keep doing like that, I might-” she panted for air, she needed for a moment there, “I might, cum~” her body squealed in pleasure, holding all her sanity.

It was prolonged sex for sure, he finally had to urge to orgasm, he pulled out in time, cumming all over her body, she really looked pretty as if he was the artist, painting more cum on the belly. “Know your place, just like that,” he looked coldly into her eyes, he didn’t have time for this right? The aftercare was little, he threw her tissues and a bottle of water he had in the car, putting on his clothes, he did let her go this time, unlocking her sore wrists, and going back to his driver seat. 

He did drove her back to her motorbike was at, even opening the door for her to get out, after minutes of silence, he kissed her forehead softly, like a gentleman would, before he finally let her go. But one thing for sure is that it was one of the best nights he’d ever had with a girl. A sucker for romance, *lovin’ a hurricane*

part 2?

[redrandomposts]

I offer!! Zombie virus au, where Ivan is a zombie who protects Till who is a living survivor from other zombies! till and Ivan probably were super close before the apocalypse and till though Ivan “sacrificed himself “ to save him, so he’s all jaded and haunted!! But THEN!!! Ivan comes back as a zombie, and he probably can’t really speak or remember much of who he was before but he remembers how much he loves till (and doesn’t remember why that was a problem so is super affectionate and snuggly)

and till hates having a zombie following him around, but doesn’t have the heat to “kill Ivan again “ so he just lets him stick around (and he finds that Ivan is super useful for scaring off other zombies and he keeps eating humans who want to harm him so he can’t even really be that upset about it ! -🌻

hihi 🌻!!! thats an awesome au!!

let me add on: ivan has a constant need to get till to pay attention, even when hes a zombie. he follows instincts, which may include gathering food and flowers that till likes, annoying him, stealing his things, and—strangely enough—commit arson.

thats right. ivan is an arsonist in an apocolyptic world. how odd.

till likes to show off his zombie...even if that includes burning down settiments of not-so-good people and biting everyone disagrees with.

heppy ending time!!

after a few years or so, a large settlement managed to create a cure for any surviving zombie. ivan is the first one to be cured; he behaves well and is infamous for his humanity (even if he lacks a lot)

ivan retains all his memories, and the first thing till does is kiss him.

the cure acts as a vaccine, too, so ivan is able to go where he pleases. he rescues more reasonable zombies to cure, and he gathers more supplies. this means that when the world is in a more manageable state, he and till are retired at a young age.

thank you for the offer. i sacrifice a bit of my sanity to fluff it up.

[incarnadin3]

L Is For Love - Pt.1 (Soulmate!Au)

A/N: I saw this idea on a Tumblr post and omg I wanted to write it so bad. This probably will turn into a short fic, and my replaced au fic will be on hold for a while cuz I need to reset my brain (I have commitment issues) Anyways, enjoy~ (Also I'm not familiar with writing gender neutral reader so if you spot a mistake please let me know!) Also it refers to furries at one point, and it isn't meant to be derogatory or anything, trust.

Pairings: Lucifer X GN!Reader, Leviathan x GN!Reader

"Oh I can't believe it happening to me"

A tattoo. One simple letter, inked into your arm the day you turned 18.

What value does one sole letter hold?

Everything.

That one simple letter becomes the reason you breath, sleep, eat, live.

Some call it a scam, saying a letter can't define who your lover should be. But of course, only the ones who haven't experienced it, will judge it, no?

They say fate holds the reins, deciding who will meet who, when and why. So when you get your letter, don't stress! All will fall into place when it has to.

No one can change what is written in the stars....

As the sun shone through the pastel curtains, you groaned, covering your face with your hand, still half asleep.

Suddenly, a throbbing pain shot up your hand, and you cursed, pressing into the pained area with your other hand to deviate the pain. Grumbling, you stumbled to their feet, cursing as you nearly tripped over your own dirty socks, as you opened the bedroom door. You stumbled into the bathroom, squinting at the harsh white light of the bathroom, as you heard your annoying brother shout,

"Oi! You think you can be any less louder?! What are you, King Kong?! Stop stomping around the house!"

"Shut it!", you yelled, or more like groaned, sleep clouding your voice.

Blinking quickly, you tried to make sense of your surroundings, your eyes travelling over the sickeningly white walls and countertops, with speck of black marble in them.

Another round of pain shot up your arm and you hissed, quickly running your left hand under the water. Your eyes went to your wrist to see what was making it hurt so bad.

A black mark.

You frowned. Had your idiotic brother drawn on your hand while you were fast asleep? Was that it? But upon closer inspection, you noticed a very messy letter inked into your wrist.

L

"Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this"

A soulmate mark is an inscription in one's wrist, of their fated soulmate. One cannot pick his soulmate, for it is decided by fate.

You scoffed, slamming the book shut, and instantly regretting it when a plume of smoke shoots up and you cough, face red as other people sitting near you shoot you a dirty look.

You hated this library with a passion. You loved reading, yes, but this library sucked. It made it seem as if talking was a crime, and dropping a book, a sin.

Grunting, you grabbed the heavy book and lugged it back to its original spot, because god forbid you placed the book in those bright yellow plastic carts. Even though they were made and placed for the very reason that you could place books in there instead of heaving them back to their original spot, you'd much rather commit arson that use the cart. It was for show anyways.

As you walked out of the library, your eyes fell on your wrist again, tracing the L inked into it.

It annoyed you greatly that you didn't know your soul mate's name, just the letter.

"If fate wants to decide my soulmate for me then why the fuck can't I know their full name?"

You suddenly yelped, stumbling into something that sounded a lot like coins, and cursed. Kneeling to pick up the coins, you realised you had tripped into some beggar's coin jar.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!", you apologized, quickly picking up the coins and dropping them back into the jar. You raised your head to look the homeless man in the eyes, his haggard white hair and beard covering his face. " Are you okay?!"

"You cannot change fate. You will meet him when it is fated. Don't fight it."

Taken aback, you blinked once, then twice. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Don't question fate. Fate is decided, you will meet him when the time is right."

Your breathing quickened as you stared at the man, still kneeling. His beard was too white to be related to old age. His hair was too full and too shiny to be old. His eyes were too bright, his lips were too full, his skin was too-

You gasped as if someone had pulled you out of water right as you were drowning. You quickly jumped to your feet, backing away from the man.

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go!"

Quickly dropping a coin into his coin jar, you turned and took off running, cold sweat dropping down your face. It wasn't until you were a good three blocks away that you calmed down, panting.

Crossing the street, you murmured to yourself, "psycho old man, what the fuck was he try-"

Beep!

A horn sounded as you turned, car light's blinding you as the last thing you saw was a horrified expression of the driver as he surely ran you over.

For some reason, you felt no pain. Did you die? Probably...

You groaned, opening your eyes to see a dark mahogany ceiling, with floating candles. Hogwarts? Was Hogwarts heaven suddenly? Was this some software update you didn't know about?

"Ah, it seems your awake..."

You shrieked, jumping six feet into the air, and saw a man with bright red hair, and....horns?

Your wrist tingled, and you internally thought, was this furry your soulmate?

"My name is Diavolo, future king of Devildom, or as you humans may call it, Hell."

Your eyes widened. So you did die. And you didn't even go to heaven! But at least on the bright side, this furry...or whatever he was, wasn't your soulmate. So, yay?

"I know you must be confused right now, but allow me to explain. We were planning on bringing you here for some time as a part of an exchange student program. However, while we were about to summon you, you nearly got into a terrible car accident. Thankfully, albeit some mysterious reason, we were able to save you before you died. Now, let me introduce you to the demons you'll be living with."

And just like that, you were a human exchange student in Hell. The “demons” you were supposed to live with weren’t there when you first arrived, so you were told to live in the Purgatory Hall, with two angels and a suspicious looking human. After that day when you found your soulmate’s letter, you hadn’t seen it again. You knew two of the demons had their names start in L. Could one of them be your soulmate?

You were dying to meet them, but as that creepy old man, and practically everyone in your life had said, you had to wait for fate to make you two meet.

To be continued….

[oogaboogaspookyman]

@sm-baby

I COULD BE HAPPY WITH SOMEONE NEW BUT MY HEART ACHES

[JUST FOR YOU]

It's been a while, hasn't it?

The office door creaks open

"Heya Pom! Brought back the paper i asked you yesterday?" Jax sounded so cheery. So happy while you just sat there on the chair like a drunkard... Well he's not a romance guy, of course he would be happy on his own. Damn rabbit.

"Not a word? What, still miss Sir Dentures?" He chuckles. He doesn't stop chuckling. What a clown... Thinks the jester. Ironic.

"Hm..."

His smile fades into a sincere frown.

Sigh

"Look here, Pom... It was necessary. He's free, paid for restoring us, we're all good now. No more murder and i got my nice charming scarf back and my favorite brushes, i'm the cool art teacher again!"

"So turn the dumb frown upside down aaaand please give me the paper i asked you? Please and thank you?"

"You're not a romance guy, of course you're fine. [___]hole..."

...

Oh...

"Oh for the love of- the censor is still here?! God darn it, i wanna say the f word for once! I loved doing that!"

You grip onto the table until it began to crack at the memory of him. Him, him, him. That stupid fucking human.

"Pom you may wanna lay off the grip there, i paid a lot for tha-"

A chunk is crushed. Like paper.

...

"Ah..."

Pomni lets go, revealing the chokehold put on the table left a permanent mark.

"Did ya dissociate again? I spoke well 'n clear, i paid a lot for that one!"

"Suck me, rabbit, you can get your s[__]t yourself" Pomni gets up and storms off from the office with no more words.

"Eh... Christ she's not okay..." Jax sighs

"Wonder if things coulda been better?"

Nobody helps at all.

Gangle offered to distract her, have a play, but Pomni wasn't in the mood.

Zooble offered a smoke but she didn't wanna try that kind of stuff.

Bubble is too much of an agent of chaos to give a shit, offered to commit "one (1) arson".

Kinger is just too far gone in his dementia, lucid when it was fucking funny and nothing more...

Nobody helps.

He knew how to help...

Only he knew...

Him...

The door to Ragatha's room creaks open

"Oh hey Pomni! How's your day go... Oh..." Ragatha notices Pomni is not any form of happy, if anything she looks like she's empty inside and wants to die...

"Oh you're not alright... Would you like to talk over tea..?"

"Mm... Will you let me vent properly?" Pomni groaned, still doubting that she won't pull out the whole everything is fine bullshit

"Oh- u-uhm- yes of- of course! Of course, i- i apologize for my past behavior, i really wasn't in my... B- best moments, at the time..." Ragatha stuttered. Don't stutter, you pretentious... ... Anyhow.

"Okay... Do you remember... Caine?" Ragatha already caught wind of the situation...

"The human with the dentures head? Yes, i remember him just fine, he restored us..."

"Yeah..."

"He was a good man, although didn't have the best manners he was alright nonetheless, knew how to make some laugh..." Ragatha and Pomni chuckled at the memory of Caine's wacky way with words. Jumping jellybeans? Seriously? That's a man right there!

A good dude...

"..." Pomni's pupils turned into black scribbles at the thought of him. The chuckling had faded as soon as it started, replaced by...

"I loved that human, if i'm being honest... He knew how to cheer me up, how to make the situation seem less bigger than it actually is... He knew how to kiss, god did he know..." Ragatha let out an "oh my" after hearing Caine kissed her, what else did they do..?!

"He... He was... He's amazing. Just that, amazing..." Pomni sighed, sipping on the tea she's given... "I loved him..." She began to sniff, putting down her cup.

"Oh dearie, come here-" Ragatha put down her cup and welcomed Pomni with open arms, knowing full well she needed to let it out of her system.

And that she did. Pomni got up and hugged Ragatha as tight as she could, and began to sob her lonely heart away, "He loved you too, Pomni, that cannot be denied..." Ragatha spoke as she held Pomni close. The poor jester, so alone...

How ironic.

She has friends, and yet she's lonely.

Caine had filled up a hole nobody could fill, and now that he's gotten out of the game after restoring everyone to their better conditions... That hole is empty once more, a gaping void and nothing to fill it.

How lonely this jester must be...

But it was necessary. He's free now.

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 18 on AO3

Eris took a breath and slowly began to climb the steps. One, two, three, four…twenty-nine...seventy-seven...one-hundred-and-sixty...two-hundred-and-fifty-five. That was how many stairs it took to get to Azriel’s loft apartment. If the winged sadist sent him away, he would commit arson.

The High Fae waited, hesitating at the door for several seconds. For what, he did not know. A noise? For it to swing open? For some courage? Finally, the heir of Autumn lifted his hand and knocked. One, two, three, four. Nothing. No movement or noise. The Shadowsinger was not home.

The Autumn male felt around. Some simple wards were woven around the doorway that he could easily burn through. But he would be patient, until it got too cold. The heir took shelter in the doorway and waited. And waited… 

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed, but Eris guessed it had been an hour. The weakened fae was cold. He was general to Autumn’s armies, had slept on battlefields, and could withstand significant discomfort when needs must, but on the other side of that door was a warm, luxurious home with a fully stocked bar and a bed smelling of cedar and mist. So, Eris did what any intelligent fae would do and used the magical gifts he possessed.

The fireling broke into the spymaster’s home. 

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag list @the-darkestminds @chunkypossum @c-starstuff-man0 @fieldofdaisiies @futurehunt @mistandmemories @unanswered-stars @yanny-77 @molcat07 @talibunny30 @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @lilah-asteria @going-through-shit @seihdacalling

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Ok, I've had this idea in my head for WEEKS

(Sagau) what if creator just nonchalantly told the characters (archons (including nahida(platonic ofc)))

that they were pushed in a campfire as a kid? (God this is so random please save me)

^ mmm Pyro brain go burrr

#nothoughtsheadempty

READER WAS WHAT?!

OHOHOHOHO, @royalrose2011, THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOWN. THEIR ACOLYTE CAREERS SHALL BE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN >:)

(Disclaimers: Might be OOC!)

Venti

Man would be concerned as frick. How—no, why would someone push you into a campfire of all things?! Were they not concerned for all the hazards it could've brought?

"Your Grace, you were pushed into A WHAT?!" Man will be praying to the Almighty Creator (aka you) that what you just said was just a prank—or maybe he heard it wrong.

But once you confirm it, this man is throwing all dignity into the wind (get it?) and about to hunt down these dudes who decide to throw you into a fire.

It takes all of your will to stop him from committing arson in your world, knowing you have no control over the government :')

Zhongli

He's more worried if you were hurt from the incident than worrying about morons who don't know what's dangerous or not.

"Your Grace, are you unharmed from such an incident?" Constantly checking over you to make sure you're unharmed whenever he gets the chance. He might not be exactly free all the time, but he can certainly make sure you are protected.

Guy will use every excuse in the book to make sure you are shielded. Whether literally or metaphorically, that depends on the situation.

Once this guy sees your hurt, expect to be walking behind you like some sort of bodyguard for a good few months.

Raiden Ei

Both worried and enraged. Who dares to hurt the Almighty Creator, going so far to have the audacity to push them into a campfire?!

"You need not worry, Your Grace—I will ensure you that these traitors deem no threat to you any longer." Even though it's probably been years since this incident, here's the archons, taking it seriously. Ei is not an exception—she will literally hunt the people who pushed you into that campfire.

Would see no end until she's killed the traitors, even though you're basically trying to convince her otherwise. It was years ago—you've gotten over it! Besides, you weren't dead!

She is not taking any of your excuses, so be prepared to pin her down when she does realize and see those traitors. No one shall stop her pursue of vengeance for the Almighty Creator!

Nahida

Very very worried and is practically hoping you weren't hurt.

"Your Grace, why would they push you into the campfire? Don't they know how dangerous it is?" Doesn't really like the fact that mortals do this to one another, let alone the Almighty Creator.

Poor bean is very worried about you so now you must reassure her that you are fine whenever you go off on long trips, travels, etc.

And that's about it! Sorry if it isn't to your liking, but that's all I got lol :')

See you all around!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO MAKE THIS! MY MOTIVATION DIED ON ME SOBBING. I HOPE YOU GUYS STILL ENJOYED IT THO!

AND HOLY COW, TYSM FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS 😭 YALL ARE AMAZING!

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

You know what? Let me give into my Sephiroth fantasies real quick.

May I request number 1 with Sephiroth sfw for the 100 Followers Event please?

Also congratulations on 100 followers.

You and a good and very cool friend of mine, @heraldofcrow , would probably get along well. Unless you are Crow then belay that recommendation.

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!!!

Sephiroth had a habit of biting and gnawing on things when he was working on paperwork or when he was bored.

In his time at Shin Ra he had gone through so many pens, pencils, and markers that they had actually assigned someone to keep and eye on his bad habit and ensure it didn’t develop into him chewing on electrical wires, or other, more dangerous office supplies while also ensuring he didn’t develop any other habbits, like committing arson or traumatizing blonde twinks.

That person was you.

Your one and only job at Shin Ra, was to ensure that Sephiroth didn’t do any of the things above by keeping him supplied with things to chew on.

From candies, taffy, and gum to, in extreme situations, specialized crackers.

You supplied the 1st Class Soldier with it all.

And over time, Sephiroth had grown fond of you.

More than as a work associate, and more than a friend.

More than someone who was assigned to work with him because of his bad habit.

But as someone he wanted to spend time with, to enjoy listening to.

And over time, he gained the courage to do that.

The courage to take the small bits of happiness in his life and hold onto it tight.

That is what you were to Sephiroth.

An anchor, a grounding point for his existence.

He knew he was in love with you.

It took him a while to figure it out, but when he did…

He was quite happy with that realization.