#time for me to stop being a “money draining leech” that's only worth something when it's convenient

[piratebay]

im really just sad. and i don't know what to do.

[drakenology]

I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki. 

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside. 

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree. 

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door. 

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this. 

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki. 

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit. 

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest. 

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don’t you, Y/N?” 

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep. 

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes. 

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men. 

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch. 

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21. 

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round. 

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table. 

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think. 

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him. 

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall. 

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill. 

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.” 

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed. 

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him. 

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body. 

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot. 

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it. 

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now. 

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch. 

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request. 

“Words. You’ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go. 

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still. 

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers. 

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head. 

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand. 

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all. 

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi. 

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes. 

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him. 

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe. 

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life. 

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you. 

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot. 

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark. 

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release. 

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum. 

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm. 

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up. 

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind. 

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed. 

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow. 

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame. 

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks. 

bitch i.. i’m sick. 

[aid-xenostar]

Mezaleus (OC)

Be careful with what you wish for, he may only have a single pair of ears, but he's always listening. Those deep dark hidden desires aren't as secret as you may think. He heeds the call of fresh warm blood, a contract is formed, here is Mezaleus.

Mezaleus is pretty tall but not overwhelmingly big, broad shoulders but he's on the slimer side and his skin is red that contracts his mostly white hair. He has one long side bang that's red. 

His outfit is questionable to his occupation. A crop top showing his nips, and skintight pants that show every curve, not to mention the holes in them. Is he trying to seduce someone? He's not an incubus.

The appropriate term: Leech, but to humans he's simply a blood demon.

Compared to soul contracts that are immediate exchanges, his are blood contracts. They are more or less immediate but run on for a time span and require blood. They're slightly different but don't get him mixed up for some regular soul snatcher. It pisses him off. 

Whenever he's upset, he reverberates this deep rumble, like thunder and deep space. That goes for when he wants to feed, too, which is usually all the time.

Wish his current target good luck. If he's lurking on them, you can bet they're hearing that rumble 90 percent of the time. It's a reminder to his signee that he's there.

As a Leech, he basically works off of requests, and can usually get some blood easily, especially from the more sinister types. Although, if orders are low, Mezaleus will go out of his way to cause a situation for a chance at blood.

He's a little shit.

Is he cheating? Not by the contract, he's not forcing you or anything. Just if you want him to get out of your ear and stop breathing down your neck, you'd better have some strong determination, or you'll be giving your blood out like a money factory

Be careful.

It should be obvious, but he can kill you. If not by taking your blood, then definitely by those sharp claws of his, but that's just feral. That was him in his youth. Plus, that's only if you've broken a rule.

Don't go behind his back.

He will know.

Nowadays, Mezaleus is more collected and would rather conjure up an accident instead of a leaving a mysterious, yet gruesome death done by his bare hands.

Also, despite Mezaleus being a leech, a blood devouring evil spirit, once you've made a contract with him and signed it, he becomes tangible.

Crazy, right!?!

His signees always freak out when they feel a hand slowly slither and grasp their neck.

He gets a kick out of it.

It's basically a side effect of the contract that he's implemented. Don't worry he can't do anything without your permission.

We cherish consent here♥️

He's not as snobby as other leeches to not want to touch humans, but he likes the contact of something living as he drains them. Don't be surprised if you hear a rumbling groan. 

How much blood are you giving? It depends. If the order is high, be prepared to give a lot and hope that you have enough to still live. If it's something like for him to shut up, it's basically worth a penny. 

To him, it's so much more. 

Mezaleus doesn't have a preference for blood type but rather flavor. It's either sweet and savory, or salty and sweet for him.

The more sinister types are often sour with a pinch of sweetness. It's not necessarily his favorite but it fills his stomach, especially when he's insatiable.

Ah, but if you happen to deal with this leech, depending on your desires you'll have a good time.

Mezaleus promises on his honor.

You won't be disappointed with your wish so long as he gets his rightful fill.

Who knows, possibly over time you could form a relationship that's more than just this blood/gift exchange.

And for Mezaleus, well... 

He'll patiently wait for the day he can suck up the last of your warm blood without any sort of second thought.   

"I want you to love me..."

"Gladly"

🩸♥️🩸♥️🩸♥️🩸♥️

Unofficial design

[growingupautie]

StoryTime: The White Card Incident

(2,770 words but worth the read.)

In January of 2013, I was promoted from a part-time weekend job as a technology sales representative for Lenovo to the Marketing Development Manager for Lenovo in charge of half of my entire city of Houston. For a while, I felt like I was on top of the world. I loved my job and traveling through my city. I loved meeting all the people in the 50 plus stores I had to visit and started to memorize a lot of them and what we talked about.

I even made my route have me end up near Chinatown on some days so I could stop by and eat lunch there (and get some things from my favorite bakery.) But just as Kandace and I were planning on using this newfound position to get an apartment together, something terrible happened. In October of that year, we got on our weekly conference call as we always did, but the mood seemed somber and no one was talking or laughing like they used to.

When our boss came on, she also seemed upset and had trouble getting her words out. I could tell that everyone on the call, all 20 plus of us from across the United States just wanted her to say what was happening so we could rip the bandaid off. After a minute of praise that felt hollow given the tone of the call, someone finally asked if she could get to the news we were told to expect.

She said "sorry" and continued to tell us that the parent company we work for had lost the contract with Lenovo after failed negotiations and our positions were being terminated immediately. The call somehow fell more silent. Everyone had questions. Myself included. But in the end, we found out most of what we wanted to know. The Lenovo branded cars we drove were to be returned, (I had let my vehicle stay broken down as I didn't need it and it would be expensive to fix.)

The laptop we were provided was to be returned as well along with the phone, and hotspot device. But the most important bit of info came when someone asked if we would be allowed to apply for unemployment. "Of course we would be able to. We paid into it, we worked, we should be able to get that back." but to our surprise, the boss said something along the lines of "no don't do that! We could get in trouble! We haven't paid into that!" All of us were stunned. Someone asked how that was even possible.

It turns out the loophole in the law they had found was that because the company was in Akron Ohio, and we all worked and paid taxes in our various other cities somehow they managed to not pay into it. We didn't get bogged down into the why or how, but all that meant to us was suddenly we were without cars and a paycheck and would be denied unemployment. I was devastated. I really thought I had found a place to grow and could see myself making a career out of it.

We were about to sign papers on an apartment and suddenly I'm without a job, without a working car, and without any kind of financial assistance. Some issues happened around my family and after a short time, I got my car somewhat fixed and I moved out of the house into Dadaw's (grandmother's) house. I tried frantically to get another job. After all, I had just been in charge if half of Houston for a big company. Surely I would be offered another position somewhere soon.

But as time went by, nobody had called. I had very little money left, and very little outside help if any. Hope was dwindling, relationships were strained. I had spoken to at least 20 job placement agencies. After my mom informed me that I had been diagnosed as Autistic as a child, I had reconnected with D.A.R.S. (Department of Rehabilitative Services) who help people with disabilities get help with work and other things.

But they refuse to help me based on my other medical issues because they closed my case before, and they refused to help me as an Autistic until I got rediagnosed. They paid for me to be rediagnosed, I did so with no sleep, having skipped dinner and breakfast, and with a ridiculous amount of stress on my shoulders.

I aced their IQ test minus the memory portion, and after a while of convincing the doctor I was Autistic through old stories and experiences and the fact that I had been diagnosed, he agreed. That day, I went home with my heart sunk in my chest. I felt like a failure for needing this kind of help. I felt like a broken or incomplete person because I couldn't do it on my own.

And after months of their "help," working with a bunch of disability-based job agencies, the "help" of 20 plus other job placement agencies I had saught out, and filling out applications online myself, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get a job anywhere. I couldn't afford to eat, and I didn't want Dadaw to pay for me as she often couldn't afford much. A few people in my life suggested I get food stamps. Several people in my life told me I should apply food stamps. But the idea of that in itself was terrifying.

But after a while, between eating very little, my friends taking me out from time to time, and constant pestering from my family I felt I was left with no choice. I went to the food stamp office with my head down, the people around me had the same downtrodden demeanor. When they called me back, I felt a rush of emotions. Guilt, remorse, sorrow, anger that it came to this.

But most of all, I felt embarrassed. Growing up, food stamps had been used as an insult toward the people around me, I knew at one point my family had needed them and used them and I felt like as someone who had been constantly bullied growing up, I was opening myself up for more. I played through a million scenarios in my head as I walked back. Someone I know seeing me at the checkout counter, the cashier silently judging me, the people around me, me dropping the white card with the unmistakable logo in front of someone.

I snapped out of it and sat down in the interview room to answer questions to determine my eligibility. But it felt like a police interrogation to me. I felt like I was cheating the system. Like it wasn't for me, but someone else who deserved it. Someone else who needed it. I felt the eyes of the interviewer boring into me as if to say "why are you even here?" I spoke up about to break. "I...I don't even want to do this." Her face changed from accusatory and annoyed, to shock.

I let her know that I felt like I had no other choice, that I felt embarrassed. I explained my situation, and she looked at me almost begrudgingly endearing. "Son, if you need help, you need help." she said. "That's what it's here for." I felt somewhat relieved or at least a little better about not actually cheating the system. They accepted my application, and I was approved.

When I got the card, I was once again filled with dread. Replaying the simulations over and over in my head a million times. Finding a way to cheat the system in a way to avoid being bullied, I realized I could use the self-check-out. Then quickly realized if I get one of those "please remove items from cart" messages or something else regarding my card, someone would have to come up and help me anyway.

Still, I figured it was my best hope for avoiding confrontations, and I parked outside the grocery store. I checked my balance on the card and made sure everything was working, went in and got a basket, and started shopping while feeling like a spy. Like somehow I would get caught and it would be the end of the road for me. I'm honestly surprised nobody thought I was shoplifting as nervous as I was.

When I was done, I walked over to the self-check-out area doubling down on my earlier decision when a woman stopped me and said they were all closed for repairs. Panic set in. I didn't say anything. I just sort of smiled and walked away with my basket.

The 15 items or less line was almost empty but I had too many items. The next line had too many people. The next few lines had the same amount of people and items, and I started doing the math on which cashier was scanning and bagging faster vs how judgmental they look trying to get myself into the best possible situation.

Eventually, I found a line sandwiched between two closed lines with only one woman and her 2 kids in the basket with a few items. The cashier didn't seem to care much about anything and didn't seem like a gatekeeper or any other kind of threat. And the woman in front of me seemed sad and aloof as well so I felt like things were going to be ok. The woman smiled at me and apologized for having so many items. "It's not that much. It's fine." I responded with a smile.

But suddenly from behind me, I felt a high strung angry presence. Like a monster who's in a hurry and I'm in his path. As each item was scanned, he started saying "Oh God...." "Of course..." and "Just great..." in a demeaning and monstrous tone. The woman continued to hide her face with her back to him and sulked further into herself as he continued. "Cash or credit?" The cashier asked in a monotone voice. "I...uh...Here..." The woman said quietly and she tried to hand her..."A food stamp card..." I thought to myself.

I realized that I and the woman felt the same at that moment. In need of help, but afraid to seek it out, and even afraid to use it once that help had been provided. I started to piece the scene together realizing the kids had beat up shoes and clothes, and the woman did as well. They were clearly hungry and frightened by this angry rhino of a person and just wanted to get some food. I started to think of all the scenarios that could have put them in that situation. But then I realized it didn't matter.

Only a moment had passed while I thought through all of these things, the children were terrified of this man already and then he saw it..."OH GREAT! MY TAX DOLLARS AT WORK!" he screamed scaring the kids even more. He began to verbally narrate what he thought her situation was. accusing her of getting "knocked up" to "leech off the system." He said people like them were a "drain on the economy" all while using language inappropriate to use around her children.

At that moment after the initial shock wore off, I grasped my card in my pocket as anger built up inside of me. I knew what I was afraid of, I had built it up in my head, and this ignorant jerk was making it a reality for a down on their luck mom and her two scared children. I immediately pivoted. "What did you just say?" I told him with a face that said: "I dare you to repeat that." apparently too blustered to care, he said, "I SAID PEOPLE LIKE HER ARE A DRAIN ON THE ECONOMY!"

I whipped my card out and held it in-between two fingers right in his face. "And what about me?" I spoke out with an angry but in control tone. "I...Uh..." he said as it became clear to me, like most bullies, this one was only doing this because he thought his targets (this mom and her kids) would not be able to defend themselves. I yelled at him more, trying to control my voice so I didn't frighten the kids anymore "Well, you had all kinds of ignorant crap to say a minute ago!"

He snapped out of his shock bullies go into when someone stands up to them. "Wh...Why don't you mind your own business?! I WASN'T EVEN TALKING TO YOU! WHY DON'T YOU FIND ANOTHER LINE!" He started to build up steam again making the children huddle in the cart.

Having had enough of his nonsense I moved my card, leaned in with a scowl, got uncomfortably close to his face and angrily whispered: "Why don't YOU find another line before I find one for you..." a terrified look came across his face as he realized doubling down on his ignorance would not get the job done and after a pained audible gulp in the "big man's" throat he was frantically on his way spouting off "That's what I thought" and other face-saving phrases.

I timidly turned back to the family making sure I had dropped my "don't mess with me" persona (My Autistic folks know this one) so I didn't scare them. I asked them if they were ok. Her eyes were filled with tears, and so were the kids. She smiled at me and thanked me for stepping in. I told her kids that it was ok because he was gone now and offered to walk them to their car. She said she appreciated it but they would be fine.

The checkout woman handed her a receipt and obviously wanted to stay out of the situation. I saw the woman leave and she smiled at me on the way out. I had enough items that it took a good 5 minutes to check me out. I realized in that time I was no longer afraid of being seen with my card. Maybe it was the adrenaline of standing up to that bully, maybe it was outing myself to protect that family, after all, it would be silly to be afraid now that everyone had clearly seen it.

I paid, went outside, and on my windshield was a note on small lined paper that had been torn out of a planner of some sort that said: "You will be blessed all the days of your life." I don't know who left it, or if it was in response to what happened, or even how they found out which car was mine, but it was there.

The message here is two-fold. First, it is easy to get caught up in thinking you don't need help, or that even if you did it isn't for you. "It's for someone more deserving." sometimes it's just the fear of being bullied or ridiculed for accepting it. And because of this, a lot of people wait until they hit "the bottom" before they ever consider asking and even then they might not.

In a better world, we would destigmatize the need for help. Therapy, government assistance, shelters, these things are in place to help people, and if people need help, they should be able to get it without being berated to tears over it. The last thing someone who's questioning if they need help or not needs is some blowhard with their ignorant opinions of why they don't. Which brings me to the second message.

If you see something like this happening, and you have the power to step in whether you are personally affected or not, do it. This includes all forms of bullying. Bullies are cowards. They may double down, but once these types of people realize that we won't allow this anymore and there are actually people who will stand against them, they buckle under the pressure. If you see it, shut it down.

This has been another [Growing Up Aspie] Storytime. If you'd like to help me make more content more often, please consider supporting me at Paypal.me/growingupaspie or with a monthly pledge of $1 or more at patreon.com/irishwolfproductions. Thank you for your support.

-Nathan Alan McConnell

[unwrathful]

Title: cracked under pressure (but that doesn't mean I'm broken) Summary: Xanxus lost more than just eight years when he was frozen. TW: pain (more abstract than explicit but that’s just imo) - trapped & emotional turmoil. also: Xanxus being Xanxus. (this means his flames do stuff and he’s angry >:U)

AO3 link

                                                         Raging

“The fuck are you doing? You'll hurt yourself, shitty boss.”

Oh, fuck off, Xanxus told him as he tried to inhale. He couldn't though, forgot he couldn't, and then panicked. Panicked so badly he thrashed violently, but his limbs were locked in place. Was this hell? It had to be, the old man had killed him. That shitty old man, looking down on him because of his birthplace.

“Voi, if you do that, you'll fuck yourself over.”

I know, he screamed. He fucking knew, and Squalo wasn't helping. He didn't help before, only passing responsibility onto him like the shitty subordinate he was. Everyone seemed to do that, like it was time to fucking gang up on Xanxus.

“Boss, calm down,” and it was Lussuria talking to him now. But he couldn't, he shouldn't, the Flames gave him so much life. They had brought him out of trouble, so much trouble, time and time again. They had saved him, for Christ's sake, brought him from the bottom up.

“Shishishi, the prince-” the rest of his words was lost in the roar in Xanxus's ears. Fuck them all for failing him, fuck them, fuck them-

“Boss, I'll do anything for you,” and Xanxus shouted that your best wasn't worth anything who did they think they were and why couldn't he move-

“Mu, I'll stay because the pay's good.”

And Xanxus hated them. They had failed him. Everyone had, and he had no one on his side strong enough to make him king. He wanted to be king, to rule over the fucking trash, and he would achieve this dream. This slum rat would climb to the top, and fuck the rest, he swore to himself. He didn't need them, didn't need anyone.

I hate you, he raged at the world blindly, feeling his Flames sharpen into razors and attempt to crack the ice. That wasn't normal, his Wrath wasn't normally so...precise.

His rage reached a peak, enough to break apart his skin. He felt it split, felt it crack under the pressure. His face was burning, as though someone was bringing a blowtorch slowly across his skin, over and over and over until he thought his flesh would burn and char. Across his skin, over his eyes and his nose and down, to his chest, the sensation intensifying as time passed.

As the pain increased, his rage, his wrath, flared even more until he thought he would burst. The flesh across his body was cut, without ever bleeding; and he was cold. It sank under his skin,leeching away at the warmth.

So cold. Where was the warmth? He forgot what warmth was, couldn't remember the taste of alcohol or what it felt like to lie in bed. When he tried to think about it, the sensation of suffocating and

He became used to the cold and missed the heat of the sun. The voices were calling for him again, telling him to live.

I'm trying, he told them, too tired to yell. He was so exhausted, he wanted to sleep. Sleep and never wake, or sleep and wake in a world where he was boss.

“..Varia's doing fine.” Squalo was speaking, and Xanxus was mute. Give me warmth, free me, he wanted to tell him urgently.

“I had to sneak in here, but- We're working on it. A way to get you out. Don't worry.”

He was worried. Squalo knew nothing about anything. How could he just wait and be set free like some goddamn Disney princess?

But he was so tired, too tired to do anything. Xanxus allowed his mind to fall down into the depths of sleep, hoping the next time he woke he would be out.

***

He wasn't. He couldn't move, he was frozen, and the rage was back. This time he really thought his bosy was breaking under the pressure. He heard a sharp snap with no pain.

The cold dulled it, but his leg was broken. Oh, fuck. That wasn't fair. He wanted to walk away from this standing, under his own strength.

Was this because of his birth? Did the shitty old man sneer at him in this ice, call him another slum rat, sit at him, tell him he deserved this?

Just imagining it was enough to make Xanxus's Flames flare yet again, and this time it really did break his body.

It hurt his mind more though.

***

When he next became aware of the world, he was shivering.

Shivering? He opened his eyes, a miraculous movement, then grinned, his lips splitting and bleeding, his face shifting oddly.

Pain was everywhere, all encompassing. His leg screamed at him not to move, his arms limp and spread across the floor, his organs shredded and put through a juicer.

“...Oh.” A voice, a real human trash said to him, but he didn't hear the rest.

“Xanxus,” someone said, and he felt hands on him.

He flinched, the movement causing his body to scream don't.

Don't? Oh yeah, all this blood isn't good, he thought blindly, staring at the red down his shirt. Liquid dripped off his face, fluid made his hands slippery. It was all so less than the pain in his leg, but something else was wrong.

He couldn't place it, and dismissed it. He was out of the cold, and into the warmth. He could figure out who he was later.

                                                         Breaking

“Who are you, old man?” He threw this at the man with the staff, who looked curiously at him, disbelieving.

“Do you really not know?”

Xanxus shook his head in confusion. “My name...” He stared at his hands, then clenched them, pressing them against his face. “I don't know, why don't I-”

Pain again, his body aching and his chest tightening. He dropped his limp hands, staring at them brokenly. He remembered all that blood that made his grip slippery, remembered what it was like to rely on everyone else to carry him.

“My leg.” Xanxus clutched his leg, which had been healed through Sun Flames. “My leg, it's unusable.”

“That's not true, you can-”

“I'm useless,” he muttered, and then repeated the words over and over, mute to the rest of the world. Timoteo eventually gave up trying to talk to Xanxus.

He left his adopted son shell-shocked and rocking back and forth, each wondering where they had gone wrong.

***

After a few days, memories trickled in, vague suggestions of hunger and dirt. A woman, telling him he was great and that he was powerful; he had to wonder how true that was. From what he had heard, he had done something bad, and then had been put in the ice.

In the ice, if he messed up again he would be back in the ice. It scared him – no, it terrified him. He didn't want to, couldn't stand to think about what that would be like, how it would feel to trapped there again.

He remembered putting his hand in the gutter, fishing out coins and shit and beating others into the ground for their food and money and clothes. Why was he like this?

He gripped his hair and curled up, ignoring the pain of his hands. What had he done?

“Mother, what are you doing?”

The woman looked at him. “Business.”

“Business?”

“Yeah. Don't worry about it; it'll make us rich.”

Rich? Was that even possible? They were slum rats, the lowest of the low, barely able to have a meal a day. His hands were filthy. Xanxus flexed them instinctively, wincing at the sharp pain.

“Trash,” he groaned at a presence he thought he sensed.

“Voi, you're really out of it, boss.” Xanxus frowned at the man with long hair, struggling to focus. He closed his eyes again, muttering, “Get out.”

“Voi! That's no way to treat me after all these years-”

Xanxus held up a hand with great effort. “Who are you?” He had to fight to get the words out.

The man stopped and glared. “Don't play dumb.”

Xanxus's hand dropped. “You callin' me dumb?” His accent thickened, regressing into slang. “Fuck off, I dunno who you are-”

“VOI! THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH YOU-”

“Shaddup,” Xanxus spat out, clamping his hands over his ears. “Shut it, trash, be silent-” He kept chanting the words, blank eyes fixed straight ahead. His whole body hurt, everything ached and complained and refused to function properly. His breaths came out in gasps, his mind crumbling under the pressure.

Once again, his world went dark.

***

He woke again, this time the murmur of voices flowing around him. When he twitched, they stopped, and Xanxus opened his eyes to concerned faces.

“Xanxus,” the old man said, overly worried.

Xanxus recognised his name but not the man. “Oh...” he looked around vaguely, hate wallowing inside his gut; it was unclear what it was directed at, what the anger wanted to rage at.

“Where's mother?” Xanxus said stupidly, trying to sit up, bandaged hands trembling under his weight. This place was too lxurious for him – must be a hotel or something, maybe someone took him in, did his mother give up something important?

“Your mother...” the old man – Xanxus thought he should know this guy's name – only looked more and more anxious as time went on. “She's not here.”

Xanxus ignored those words, and the faces of whom he presumed were doctors, and shoved away the blankets. “The fuck,” he muttered, thick dialect breaking his voice. “What the fuck,” and the word was said violently, accompanied by a vicious kick at the bed. “What are you lookin' at?” He challenged the other occupants, swinging his legs off the bed (finally, but he was so, so exhausted and tired and he wanted just to die).

“How old am I?” He demanded, staring – gaping – at his body, so massive and what was up with his hair? He caught sight of himself in the mirror. Mustering up his strength, he wobbled over to his reflection, nearly crumbling right then and there. Something was wrong, something was broken inside his head.

He didn't recognise the face looking back.

                                                         Fading

What the hell? He gazed almost drunkenly at his reflection, his strength fading and draining through  his feet. His knees buckled, and he fell, landing with a heavy thud.

“Old man,” he croaked, and heard him stir behind him. “Who am I?”

A pause. “You are Xanxus.”

“Xanxus,” he repeated numbly. “I know that. How old am I?”

A hesitation. “Twenty-four,” the man said weakly, and a shiver trickled down Xanxus's spine. Something was up, something was wrong, but his damn mind wouldn't let him know.

“I'm Timoteo, your father,” the old man continued, almost cautiously.

Caution was the correct approach, it seemed, because almost instantly Xanxus fell into fury, the sick feeling of hate pressing against his throat, hissing in his ear to kill and wound.

Xanxus bit back the hate, bending over and taking a moment to recollect himself. “So you're the Vongola boss, huh.” He had heard about the Ninth from his time on the streets and from his mother. His father, and he hated him for unknown reasons. Hated him, wanted to kill him, destroy him, make him suffer and bleed and lock him away somewhere cold-

Oh god what was he thinking? He didn't understand, didn't know why he thought those things. All he knew was the slums and the pain of just being cold.

Outside of that, he didn't understand anything.

***

Italy was suffocating Xanxus. The slums were a foul reminder of his past, and the opulence dug into his mind and jeered at the lack of memory he had.

He learned he was the so-called boss of Varia, which explained the long-haired man, Xanxus thought. It annoyed him to think he had a subordinate as loud as him, but it is what it is.

All of it was too much. Xanxus was tempted to just run away from this shit, never lay eyes on Vongola again. It didn't matter how much he craved the riches or the position of Decimo, he didn't want to deal with these people.

Along the way he learned of a Japanese boy who had a claim to the seat of Decimo. Xanxus had dismissed ar first – he was after all the top candidate, and some shitty brat couldn't change that – but then he realised that if he didn't regain his memory, he would be shafted.

Xanxus wanted to run away from it all. Where was his mother? Where was his memories?

***

Xanxus flew to Japan, and wandered the streets, having enough money to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

No one in Vongola or Varia tried to contact him, and Xanxus had to wonder what sort of man he'd been. The kind to drive away others?

Maybe they all hated him, Xanxus thought, and that made sense. He hated himself, so why would others care?

On his journey – no, not a journey, just call it fuckin' travelling – he wound up in some shit town that he didn't even bother to learn the name of. He turned into an alley, then all the rage caught up to him and he slammed his fist into the wall.

And again, blood running down his knuckles. Again, and so what if his bones broke? Again, and why did everything hurt?

“Are you okay?” A boy's voice called, and Xanxus twisted around to look at the idiot who spoke to him.

“Fuck off, trash,” Xanxus grumbled, stalking towards him.

The boy shrieked, and another came running, calling him Juudaime.

Xanxus glared down at the boy who had fallen. “...Sawada Tsunayoshi?”

The baby in the suit was studying him, and Xanxus noted his presence, disregarding the dynamite and the baseball bat.

The boy was still trembling as Xanxus leaned down and hoisted him up by his collar. “...What the fuck? Are you supposed to lead Vongola?”

The boy was shaking, eyes wide. He shook his head furiously at Xanxus's words, babbling about how he didn't want to be Decimo.

Xanxus clicked his tongue in annoyance, feeling himself weaken. Rage had kept him going for so long, but now it was – fading?

***

Xanxus had never been the sort to 'pass out', but apparently the new, amnesiac Xanxus was that sort of person. He woke in a room that was not his, in clothes that weren't his, in a house that (probably) wasn't his.

He stayed still for a moment, still groggy and hungry enough to kill the first hunk of meat to walk through the door. Or at least, that's what he thought, until it was Sawada who walked in.

Not worth it. Xanxus watched Sawada jerk away from him, amused at the way Sawada babbled more nonsense. He was too skinny. Fuck – he needed to eat, more than Xanxus did. (Not that Xanxus would give up his food.)

“Shut up,” he finally said, pleased his voice sounded normal. The boy shut his mouth with a click, the baby in the suit studying him closely.

“Xanxus.”

Xanxus flicked a look at this baby-that-was-not-a-baby. “You know me.”

The baby didn't blink. “You don't know me.”

Xanxus instinctively knew not to cross this killer-child. Even if he had his full strength, Xanxus would lose and maybe die.

Xanxus threw off the sheets and swung his legs out of the bed, loathing the trembling in his limbs. It took a lot to stand, even more to take a step.

Sawada was still shaking, and Xanxus didn't understand why. He wasn't angry, not the sort of angry that ignited his Flames and destroyed towns and gave him life. Just the mild sort that always lingered in the back of his mind.

“Whose clothes?”

“My father's,” the boy replied, rushing through the words.

Xanxus studied him for a moment. “Iemitsu's?” The name came unbidden.

The boy studied the ground, hearing the venom Xanxus spat out. “Yeah? The only clothes that would fit you...how did you know his name?”

Xanxus shrugged. “I don't remember.” He wouldn't kill Sawada, not yet.

“Oh.” Sawada shifted uncomfortably. “So, like. Do you want to have dinner?”

Xanxus glared at Sawada. “Of course, trash.”

Sawada helped him down the stairs, Reborn sitting on Sawada's head. Xanxus rejected help on the landing; it was bad enough he was now relying on the goodwill of trash, he wouldn't look weak in front of anyone else, never show weakness-

Xanxus was tempted to rob the house. It would be easy, after he regained his strength. These people were well off, they could afford to lose a few thousand. But that was old thinking, from back when he was a child. That wouldn't do, he couldn't go back.

Xanxus sat, internally warring, obediently eating the food put in front of him.

***

“Xanxus.”

He flinched at the use of his name, turning to glare at the blonde. “Who the fuck are you?”

A flicker of surprise. “You don't remember me?”

“Of course not,” Xanxus scoffed.

“I'm Dino,” he said, studying him. “You...really don't remember anything.” He seemed almost relieved. “I guess being angry is just natural for you then, huh.”

“Angry,” Xanxus repeated. “I'm not angry.” A lie. He was always anger – whether it simmered in his gut or burned his throat, the rage was always there.

Dino smiled, almost – but not quite – sadly. “If you say so.”

And Xanxus wondered if it was okay to attack him. Given the killer-child was watching, he decided not to.

***

Xanxus became almost docile in his time in the Sawada household; but not quite, as his rage still remained. When Mukuro picked off citizens of Namimori, Xanxus refused to help, but also did not hinder. So Tsuna ventured out, Xanxus deciding that a win would mean he deserved to be Decimo. (Or, not as useless as Xanxus thought he was.)

Tsuna did return, victorious and mostly intact. Xanxus retreated to his 'room', trying to decide why he approved of Tsuna.

His memories were still absent when the white-haired man arrived.

He didn't sense, at first. Had no clue he was in town. He only knew when Tsuna stumbled home, telling him about it. Xanxus blinked at him.

“Black clothes?” He asked. “And a sword?”

“Yeah,” Tsuna agreed. “Wait – you know him?”

“Maybe,” was all Xanxus said, disturbed. Why was he here? In Japan?

Tsuna's father also showed up, earning Xanxus's instant loathing. Apparently Tsuna felt similarly, given the look on his face and the tone he spoke with.

Xanxus thought maybe, just maybe, the boy did knew what he was doing, some of the time.

                                                         Burning

Xanxus followed Tsuna out of the house, more of a hunch than anything else. The cow was missing. Dammit – the cow, Lambo, had disappeared, and for some reason Xanxus was disturbed.

He trailed behind them, knowing Reborn knew he was there and choosing to ignore his existence. The baby could do whatever he wanted for all he cared.

So the family Reborn had helped shaped had worked, as well. They were good enough to defend the silly children who had put themselves in harm's way. Xanxus glanced at Tsuna, seeing his relief. Should he have felt the same? He was so detached-

“Boss,” he heard a voice say, and silence as Xanxus realised that was directed at him.

He turned to look at them, not recognising them.

“Who are you?” He asked slowly, aware of the gazes of the so-called Decimo and his guardians.

“Boss? I'm Levi.” The man was clearly confused and hurt – probably wondering why Xanxus didn't know him.

And the others gathered around him, all of them gaping at Xanxus.

“Voi! What the fuck are you doing with them?” The long-haired man was yelling, the others chiming in with their own words-

Xanxus rubbed his temple, glaring at them. “Shut up. You're giving me a headache, trash.”

He turned to look at Reborn. “Do I know them?”

Reborn only stared back, looking smug and unhelpful. Xanxus sighed and, looking back at them, asked wearily, “What the fuck do you want?”

The long-haired man blinked at him in disbelief. “We're going to make you Decimo,” he said after a pause.

“Me.”

“You are the Ninth's son, after all.”

Tsuna yelped, flinching away from Xanxus for no apparent reason. How his family reacted, Xanxus didn't know, mainly because of the burning sensation clawing up his throat.

Suffocating and raging and dying and burning and it hurts and it hurts it's all his fault-

Whose fault is it?

It's all his fault let's get him back-

How? There was no way he could achieve that-

Yes, there is a way, a voice whispered, making Xanxus look at them all, one by one. Their names flickered into his mind, surfacing from the back of his mind,

Squalo, Belphegor, Levi, Lussuria, Mammon. Varia.

And Xanxus was back.