#what if this is a consequence of that incident ?
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Slytherin Boys – They Hurt Your Feelings
Warning: Toxic!boys, not proofread, cheating, etc.
Enjoy!
Mattheo …
… watches you with disinterest as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. He’d just told you that he simply forgot about your birthday and had spent the whole day with some random female students.
… shrugs his shoulders when you ask him whether he is being serious. “It’s not that big of a deal – I simply forgot.”
… groans when you start pointing out all the times he stood you up and neglected you for the sake of being with other people. “Please – not this again.”
… plays the “If I’m really such a bad boyfriend then leave”-card.
… will smirk if you decide not to leave.
… will quickly get up from his bed if you actually turn around and slam the door behind you as you rush out of his stinky teenage dorm.
Theodore …
… sits on the edge of his bed, completely unfazed when you confront him about the girl you saw him kissing. “You’re overreacting. It didn’t mean anything.”
… doesn’t try to explain himself, running a hand through his hair as if the conversation is exhausting him. “Merlin, can’t you just drop it already?”
… scoffs when your voice cracks, and tears spill down your cheeks. He is obviously annoyed by your display of emotions, “Honestly, this is pathetic. Do you have to cry about everything?”
… rolls his eyes when you demand answers. “You weren’t exactly keeping me entertained. What did you think was going to happen?”
… doesn’t even try to stop you as you storm out of his dorm, muttering under his breath about how dramatic you are.
Lorenzo …
… lets out a mocking laugh when you trip over your words in front of his friends, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did you seriously just say that?” he sneers.
… dismisses your protests when you pull him aside after the incident. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”
… refuses to acknowledge the hurt in your eyes as you try to explain how humiliated you felt. “If you can’t take a little teasing, that’s on you.”
… crosses his arms when you demand an apology, shaking his head. “No one else would’ve made such a big deal about this. Maybe grow a thicker skin.”
… rolls his eyes when you walk away, but for a fleeting second, guilt flickers in his eyes before he brushes it off.
Draco …
… sneers at you in front of a crowd after you tried to share your opinion during a heated debate. “Why don’t you leave the thinking to people who actually know what they’re talking about?”
… watches your face fall as you try to defend yourself, a cruel smirk playing on his face. “You’re embarrassing yourself, you half-blood.”
… doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t start crying now. You’re acting like a child.”
… shrugs his shoulders when you call him an ass before storming off.
… feels the slightest pang of regret later, but he buries it deep down, convincing himself you were overreacting.
Blaise …
… snaps during an argument, his voice icy and sharp. “You’re so goddamn needy all the time. Do you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself?”
… watches as your eyes widen, but instead of softening, he doubles down. “Oh, now you’re crying? Of course, you are. That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it?”
… crosses his arms and leans back, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to defend yourself. “You always have to play the victim, don’t you?”
… rolls his eyes when you try to leave the room, grabbing your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me. We’re not done here.”
… later sits alone, the weight of his words sinking in, but his pride won’t let him admit he went too far.
Tom …
… grips your wrist too tightly during an argument, his voice low and venomous. “You will not walk away from me while I’m talking.” You had been fighting due to his treatment towards your muggle-born friends.
… shoves you backward when you try to push past him, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Don’t test me, darling. You won’t like the consequences.”
… watches you stumble, your eyes wide with shock and fear in annoyance – you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend. You knew who he was.
… sneers when you try to regain your composure, his tone dripping with condescension. “Wipe that pathetic look off your face. It doesn’t suit you.”
… takes a step closer, his shadow looming over you as his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Do you think they’d risk anything for you? Those mudbloods you’re so desperate to protect?”
… brushes past you with deliberate force when you don’t respond, his shoulders rigid, muttering, “You’re lucky I don’t make an example of them for your insolence.”
#slytherin boys#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott fanfiction#draco imagine#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire imagine#lorenzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire#blaise zabini#blaise x reader#blaise zabini x reader#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys headcanons#toxic slytherin boys#toxic relationship
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Viktor's (subverted) Aristotelian Tragedy
A common sentiment I’m seeing throughout post-finale Viktor discourse is an understandable concern or distaste for the element of choice lost throughout his story. I know a lot of us – myself included – expected more time spent on his transformation, along with emphasis on the anger/rage/betrayal fueling it. But seeing him allow Singed to “begin the process” in episode 8 reminded me of Arcane’s origins – tragedy. Bear with me for another long analysis :)
Aristotle wrote the following on the tragedy: “A tragedy is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, as having magnitude, complete in itself…with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish a catharsis of these emotions.” He also emphasized that the true tragic hero couldn’t be perfect, and his downfall into such catharsis-inducing circumstances was reliant on a fatal flaw, oftentimes pride.
Viktor fits this mold, as do many Arcane characters, and it stands to reason that this was intentional since the writing team has reiterated that the show is a tragedy, at its core.
Regarding Viktor’s fatal flaw, I’d argue it’s pride, but it manifests very uniquely. He never makes any grand declarations about his success and doesn’t draw attention to himself in any clear way throughout season one (“Progress Day” comes to mind). Instead, his pride manifests as staunch independence and self-reliance that lead to his downfall; his unwillingness to break his stoic mold arguably led to his use of the Hexcore…so it goes.
Fascinating caveat: Viktor’s pride is a defense mechanism, a necessary tool he built in order to survive and succeed in a hostile environment to people of his station. His self-reliance is increasingly desperate as his illness worsens. He’s cornered by fate but banks on the sanctity of choice at every turn – in season one, Viktor is bound by the conviction that we all have a choice. It’s why he’s so distressed when Jayce makes the wrong one regarding weaponizing Hextech.
“There is always a choice.”
Viktor’s choice to fuse with the Hexcore is the classic Aristotelian fatal flaw moment, the singular incident that opens the flood gates for eventual catharsis. We watch Viktor make an irreparable choice, one that we know to be bad, and endure the repercussions. He then makes the choice to abandon the Hexcore, and end his life, but audiences can’t shake the feeling that those consequences aren’t leaving anytime soon.
So why is Viktor so anti-choice in his final season 2, act 3 form?
Choice is Viktor’s weapon. Pride is what leads him to abusing it. Despite how uncomfortable and depressing it is to watch, Viktor’s slow descent into the Herald is a perfect twist of fate. The Arcane is even so insidious that it meshes with his original intent, to help those suffering in the undercity, while convincing him that their subservience is healing. He becomes responsible for their choices. He knows what’s best because he’s relieving the Gloriously Evolved of their suffering, right? The utopia is for the greater good, yes?
Admittedly, it was really hard watching act 3 Viktor descend fully into his choiceless ethos. But we can still relate it to his tragic flaw – his pride has mushroomed into coldhearted omniscience; not only does he know what’s best for everyone, evolution, but he also has the sense to make the choice for them to supersede their “baser instincts.” The grief we feel upon seeing this perverted, violent version of himself, as far removed from Viktor as possible, is the culmination of Aristotle’s treatise on tragedy. The catharsis is the rock-bottom Machine Herald.
"Choice is false."
But then Arcane decided to basically make Jayvik canon (get out of here, Christian Linke) and destroyed the early drafts of this post. I’m going to rapid-fire this next bit:
Jayce forces Viktor back to life. Viktor has no agency in his season 2 inciting incident. Again, it’s distressing when we mourn his agency, but it remains in accordance with Aristotelian tragedy.
Viktor clings to humanity as long as he possibly can. When Jayce calls out Viktor’s trajectory, alleging that his old partner had died in the Council chamber, whatever is left of Viktor gives way to the Arcane because his last tether has been snapped.
Jayce knows the game – Old Man Jenkins Mage Viktor told him so. Jayce becomes the linchpin in subverting Viktor’s tragedy. He knows what must happen. He understands now.
Machine Herald Viktor is given the chance to undo his fatal flaw, to reverse the catharsis, when he sees Old Man Jenkins Mage Viktor. With Jayce’s help, he takes it.
Given that it’s a version of Viktor who ultimately frees him from himself by empowering Jayce, we can gather that Viktor has liberated himself from his tragedy.
Aristotle’s catharsis is rapidly transformed from something based in release to something healing – Viktor’s tether to humanity returns. He grasps it. The walls of his pride and self-reliance collapse. He accepts Jayce’s help, finally being seen as the full individual he is. Catharsis ensues, for sure, but I don’t think it’s based in the typical tragedy genre.
All this to say, I think Viktor’s arc was, in fact, carefully constructed. He represents the Aristotelian descent into a fatal flaw and that’s very distressing to see unfold, especially since he embodied the tragic hero archetype so well from day one. However, Jayce undoes this narrative and we’re given an incredibly subversive ending that I, personally, never saw coming.
I’m sure that Mage Viktor has a much larger bearing on this analysis than I’m accounting for. But for now, suffice to say that he is Viktor’s way out of the tragedy. TALK ABOUT CHOICE!
This doesn’t erase anyone’s discomfort for Viktor having less and less agency, but I’d like to emphasize the logic and literary precedent behind the story decisions.
PS: here's a quick source I looked at about Aristotelian tragedies. I hope to re-up on Greek tragedies so I can get more specific about the parallels Arcane draws from them.
#wow! big one! thanks for reading if you stuck thru to the end#if you couldn't tell...i am a fan of viktor's entire story#it still doesn't feel fully real to me#and OFC they could have - and should have - spent way more time showing rather than telling#but that's a problem unfortunately endemic to the entire season so i see no point in dwelling too much#i just. i love him#and i will never stop talking about him for as long as i live ok ok#viktor arcane#arcane viktor#jayce talis#jayvik#arcane meta#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane s2#arcane spoilers#also i fucking love old man jenkins mage viktor and nobody will silence me on that front
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If there is one thing that I wish the entirety of gravity falls' fandom all knew is that Ford was not trying to separate Dipper and Mabel before weirdmageddon. Especially not for a dumb reason like "He's self projecting onto them too hard"
Because
1) Mabel resembling Stan??? Not only is every cannon interaction between them positive, but even if Mabel reminds him of Stan, she would remind him of the version of Stan that didn't ruin his future, just the version that liked fun and cared. The version he very dearly misses.
2) Where in the show does it indicate he doesn't apprentice her for such a reason?? Is it just headcannon?
Because one thing the show makes abundantly clear is that Ford has major trust issues due to his trauma. I wouldn't blame him, as his main and really only support system after Fiddleford's portal incident ended up wanting to tear his world apart due to their strong denial. That is a tangent I won't be getting into. BUT the show could not make it clearer he has difficulty trusting.
The reason he would want to apprentice Dipper is because he showed him a deep paranoia that he also shared, and since Ford learned that paranoia is good as it keeps you alive from Bill, this is a great thing. That's why he praises Dipper for almost memory wiping him, as he saw Dipper capable of defending himself against Bill Cypher's manipulation. Also, in the episode that Ford proposes that Dipper should be his apprentice, Dipper also proved he could handle highly dangerous situations, meaning he could handle some of the things Ford learned to handle. Dipper showed Ford he could be trusted as he wouldn't get manipulated by Bill or be killed by the environment.
Mabel, while he really likes that kid, is very emotional and empathetic. One thought I could very easily see Ford thinking is "Mabel could very easily be manipulated by Bill Cypher" She might have the physical might (refer to the mabelcorn episode) but it alone cannot protect her from Bill, as he is a MANIPULATOR. What if he reveals information to her that could be fuel to Bill's manipulation? Being Ford's apprentice would mean that you are likely to deal with Bill too because he just won't stop tormenting him, and saw that Dipper was the only one that could truly handle the dangers of Bill Cypher. If Bill somehow possesses him, he knows Dipper would do the right thing, and he knows Mabel would hesitate.
Separating them was a consequence he didn't forsee as his reasoning for offering apprenticeship to Dipper had nothing to do with the twins' relationship, and it would make Mabel trusting BlendinBill because Ford told nothing to Mabel that much more thematically better. The show is about trust, and due to Ford's lack of trust in his family, it ended up endangering them.
Tell me, what is more satisfying? Ford maliciously trying to create a gap between the twins for no good reason or a traumatised Ford with trust issues learning to trust? THE ENTIRETY OF THE WEIRDMAGEDDON TRILOGY IS ABOUT TRUST, WHY WOULD IT BE KICK-STARTED BY ANYTHING THAT ISN'T TRUST RELATED?????
#gravity falls#mabel pines#dipper pines#stanford pines#rant post#please give my old man a break#really he might be a dumb genius but he isn't the devil incarnate#its just gravity balls believing he's horrible and making headcannons based of of that#and even if it was for such a shitty reason Bill still caused weirdmageddon so what???
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I took a shot at writing!
Thank you to @rokhal for letting me mess with your dream sharing idea its absolutely DELIGHTFUL
And thank you to @moosemonstrous for beta reading for me. Its so fucking cool to have an author I admire so much giving me advice <33!!
Basically, RE! Robbie having Jill’s nightmare from RE3 remake, and all the consequences that follow
A loud crash of thunder woke Robbie up. He blinked a few times and unstuck his face from the desk he had apparently fallen asleep on. Again. His mouth felt unbearably dry in the way that tended to happen after a good hard sleep. At least he had a glass of water ready to help him wake up.
He sipped it and let the sound of rain pattering surround him. It was usually so quiet this far out in the woods. It almost made it hard to sleep. There was no ambient sound of the freeway, no trains passing or people talking when they walked by. No neighbors banging on the door drunk at 3 AM pleading for their exes to take them back. Pros and cons to everything, he supposed.
He grabbed the book on local wildlife he had been attempting to read before drifting off and headed to his room. His back never really hurt after falling asleep in odd positions anymore. That kinda made sense. If he could come back from a fractured arm after a few minutes, a pulled muscle or two shouldn't be anything to write home about.
He still didn't really know how to feel about… all that. At least the only thing he seemed to do was heal fast. The black mold leaking out of his eyes and writhing around the day he found out about his infection seemed to be a one time deal, thank god. Gabe hadn't been so lucky, but he seemed to be coping with his new plant powers fairly well. Were they plants? Technically speaking, the flowers were made of mold and he was pretty sure mold was something different. Would it be suspicious for him to ask the BSAA lady for a book on fungi? He still had so many questions.
They hadn’t really talked much about each other's powers - god. Powers. What the fuck was his life - after the initial ‘bike-meets-garden’ incident. He had questions for sure, he just wasn’t sure how to go about asking them. Really, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey Gabe, I’m trying really hard to be chill about your mold minion deal, but I gotta ask; Why do you glow?’ Would Gabe even know the answer? Robbie really just hoped it didn't hurt.
Maybe the BSAA were keeping him and Gabe to see if they could find a better cure. That seemed almost too good to be true. He shuddered at the memory of their last attempt. on the Baker Estate. Bodies shriveling up and breaking into pieces like statues made of crusted over baking soda, screaming all the while before falling mercifully silent.
He reached the end of a hallway that felt way too long and opened the door as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake Gabe. The fact that their rooms were on two different floors really didn't make a difference. He set his stuff down on the side table next to his bed before flopping down onto the mattress. God he was tired. The day felt grimy on his skin, even though he couldn't remember what he had been doing when the sun was out, and a shower seemed wasteful at this point. A little face wash and then he could go back to bed and wake up without horribly crusty eyes in the morning.
He forced himself up and walked over to the bathroom. His private bathroom, jeez, what a luxury. Turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. He felt a tickle in the back of his throat.
Robbie coughed a couple of times and felt a bit of phlegm come up. Oh, come on. Being sick with one weird disease wasn't enough? He spat it out into the sink so it could drain along with the rushing water.
It was black.
He stared as it swirled around and around in the sink. He coughed again. More black. More and more and more until it was dribbling in an almost constant stream down his chin. Okay. Alright. This had happened once before when he first started his medicine. It had sucked but he was ultimately fine. This was probably fine too.
He met his own eyes in the mirror and tried to take a steadying breath. The mold had started dripping out his nose. His left eye blackened and seemed to deflate. Shriveling and sinking into his skull as more mold spewed out of the rotting socket like a fountain. He wheezed and slapped his hand over it to try and stop everything inside him from leaking out.
There was a sort of snapping in his right eye as blood vessels there started to burst. The same feeling as breaking the last few nerves holding a loose tooth in. In seconds it was entirely bloodshot. His iris lightened from it’s usual dark brown to a jaundiced yellow. The same eyes covering the creature in the boathouse that called itself Jack Baker.
He stumbled back from the mirror and felt something in his jaw break loose. He reached up to try and feel what was wrong but stopped when he caught more black spreading up his hands. His scars formed deep grooves as his flesh molded over and shrunk down to the bone. It was creeping steadily up his arms, shooting through his veins like little spiderwebs, turning his skin the dull gray of a long dead corpse. He grabbed at his arms, desperately trying to stop it from spreading, only to spill more black as his new claws dug deep into what should have been skin and muscle. It didn't even hurt. He didn't feel anything except the panic presently choking him.
The endless black spilled over and dribbled into little puddles on the floor. He shuffled further away from the mirror until his back was against the wall and watched the mold spread across the linoleum as it had spread across himself. It was spilling over the edges of the sink now. Growing on the mirror. On the cabinets. On the walls. Each part of the bathroom that he made a habit out of bleaching meticulously was covered in black speckles. Everywhere he had stepped, each place his fingers brushed. Everything he touched was rotting.
There was a gun on the counter.
Something that sounded like distress came out of his throat. It was hard to tell. It was garbled and choked and chittering. Its reverberations ran deep into his chest and rattled his teeth. The sound was utterly inhuman. He forced himself forwards and grabbed the gun. He didn’t remember how it got there. Has it always been there? He couldn't remember.
His sharp fingertips were digging into what remained of the countertop, and he was having trouble fitting his claw through the trigger guard. He eventually managed. This wouldn't kill him, he knew that. But maybe it would allow enough time for Gabe to run away and get a head start before he totally lost himself. Would it be worse for Gabe to find him with a hole in his head or as a rotting husk of himself, attacking everything in sight?
He chittered again. A strip of flesh fell off his cheek and landed in the sink with a wet plap.
Robbie raised the gun up to the side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Or eye, rather. It didn't matter. For some reason he could still see his reflection. Whatever was doing this wanted him to see it through to the very end. The teeth under his horrible red eye were starting to peek through his rapidly decaying cheek.
The bang of the gun sounded off alongside his garbled shrieking.
-
Shrieking that woke him up.
No chittering that shook his skull and disjointed jaw. Just plain screaming. He never thought he would be so happy to hear it. He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Checked his hands; no traces of black mold. Just tanned skin striped with scars and damp from a cold sweat.
He breathed a sigh of relief and let himself relax back into the twisted sheets he had apparently been thrashing around in. There was a loud thump from downstairs, like someone had fallen down, which was swiftly followed by smaller thumps. A sound he had grown to recognize as Gabe rushing up the steps. He sat up and mentally prepared to put his brother back to bed.
Gabe slammed the door to Robbies room open before he could even stand up. His eyes were red, just in the normal way. Not the nightmare red and yellow. Tears were streaking his face. He sobbed and ran at Robbie, tackling him in a hug.
“You aren't allowed to do that!” He cried into Robbies chest.
Robbie held him close and stroked his hair, “Sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can try and get some good headphones for you so it won't happen again.”
Gabe sniffled against his shirt. He adjusted himself so he could glare up at Robbie. It would be adorable if he weren't so clearly upset.
“What? No, I don't care about that. I mean you can't do that!”
“I don't - I’m really sorry Gabe I don't know what you’re talking about.” Gabes glare got narrower. He raised his pointer finger to the side of his head and mimed ‘pow’.
Robbies spine went ridgid. What the fuck.
“I don't care how sick you get. I don't care if you heal fast. Don't. Do. That.” He felt his heart break a little. Gabe had buried his face back into Robbies shirt. That was nice. It made sure Robbie didn't have to try and hide whatever the hell his expression was.
Something repeated in the back of his head: It gave you my nightmares. That was what Gabe had said. It felt like an eternity ago but it had probably been just a little over a month.
“I didn’t--” Jesus, motherfuck, what the hell was he supposed to do? Maybe if he just started talking, he could find the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing to say at all? No parenting manual he’d ever read had a guide for what to do if you started sharing dreams with the person you looked after. Especially horrific nightmares like the one he just had.
Breathe. Focus. Gabe is upset. You know what to do when Gabe is upset.
Robbie pulled him closer, “It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He really couldn't guarantee that, but it had to be said for his own sake as much as it was Gabes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to see that.” I didn’t want to see it either. “I don't think that's going to happen. I think it was like your dream. You remember what I said then, right? It’s just our brains coming up with what scares us most.”
“That's what scares you?”
“Yeah. If I–--” he swallowed, “if I'm not… myself, then I can't take care of you.”
“I get it. I didn’t like losing myself either.” God, he was so stupid. Stupid and selfish, of course Gabe knew what that was like. He had been stripped of his own self control, changed on a fundamental level and had powers Robbie was too scared to ask questions about. Here he was, running away from things, and his brother was stuck paying the price for it.
Robbie tried to talk past the lump in his throat. “I'm so sorry, Gabe.” He could feel tears leaking down his cheeks. He prayed to God they were normal. “I don’t - I don't know how any of this works and it freaks me out a little. You don't scare me, I meant that when I said it, but it’s hard for me to understand things I can’t see. I don’t see stuff in my head the way you do.” He took a moment to breathe and leaned back so he could get Gabe to look up at him. “Do you think you can explain how it works to me? I think you might know better than I do.”
Gabe scrubbed his eyes and sat up. “I have an idea, but I don't know for sure. I’m really not like Eveline, Robbie. She talked like she knew how everything worked and I just don’t. I could be really wrong.”
“That's okay. I don't expect you to know everything, just do your best.”
Gabe kept his eyes down, “So, the plants and my fr- flowers. My flowers. They connect and talk to each other. You can do that with people too, Robbie. Evie used it to tell everyone what to do, but I think you can just make it smaller. Like connecting just two people.” Gabe looked up at him, “I think sometimes, in our sleep, you and me talk like my flowers. Talking without talking. Showing each other things.”
Okay. That was a lot. It made sense, it did. But accepting that would mean that his brain had been more affected than he thought, that his body was probably more affected than he thought. If they could do this, what else was possible? Knock it off. Solve the problem in front of you.
“Alright. Do you know how to stop it?”
Gabe shook his head. “No. I thought my flowers made you sick and that was why we dreamed together, but it's not that. It takes a lot to break that connection.” Robbie remembered Gabe stomping on one of his flowers until it was nothing but a smudge on the forest floor. Probably not a good method to repeat.
He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “Maybe we could just try to have good dreams instead?”
Robbie let out a short laugh, “That would be nice. I’d like to have good dreams with you. What would we dream about?”
“Hmmmmm… maybe ice skating? I can actually try it now! Ninja Wolf went ice skating before and he looked so awesome. He hopped on his swords and skated around on them, Robbie!”
Robbie would almost assuredly fall on his ass right away, but he would gladly take a dream about repeatedly slipping on ice over what their nightmares had been in the past. “That sounds nice. Do you want me to put you to bed downstairs and see if you can dream that?”
“No!” Gabe hugged Robbie tight again.
“Okay, that's okay, hey,” he started petting Gabes head again, “do you want to just stay with me tonight?” Gabe nodded and sniffled. “Alright, here let's just get a little more comfortable.”
He leaned back until he was resting just a little upright on his pillow so Gabe could lie down. His arms stayed wrapped tight around Robbies torso, like he was scared he’d disappear. Robbie shimmied the blankets up and over to cover them both.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”
Gabe hugged him tighter and looked up at him very seriously, “I don't care if our dreams are close. I want to be actually close.”
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. “I want that too.”
They slept dreamlessly.
#it made me sad to realize that I probably wont be getting this next comic update out until next month#and having a whole month between updates SUCKS#cause I have all these ideas and i want to share them with all of you SO BAD but I also want them to be GOOD and that takes TIME#FUckin. MEAN.#my fic#weird. to be tagging that. aight#my art#ghost rider re7 au#robbie reyes#gabe reyes#tw suicide#<- not really? Cause getting shot in the head would only set him back like 5 minutes. but given that he does DO THAT i think the warning#- applies. just to be safe <3
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BVB7 Theorycrafting: Saint Sebastian
What's BVB7 going to be about? Hard to say (beyond that there will likely be some relation to fallen angels/demons, based on something Andy said on Patreon - more on that later). However, I think the story of Saint Sebastian may have something to do with it.
1 - The Saint
Back in June, Andy got this tattoo on his leg. While the horns and wings have been added, giving it more of a demonic look, the basis for the tattoo is actually this statue of Saint Sebastian (which to my knowledge resides in a museum in León, Mexico):
(It's worth noting that Saint Sebastian is widely considered a gay icon, but that's not what I'm getting at here. Still interesting though.)
On its own, it's easy to just assume that it's nothing more than a cool tattoo - but this is Andy Biersack we're talking about here, he is insane and methodical with these things. And he likes using Catholic imagery.
Saint Sebastian is the patron saint of, among other things, soldiers and those who wish to die a saintly death. The most famous depictions of him (including in the statue above) show the incident of him being tied to a tree and shot full of arrows during a Roman persecution of Christians - but, importantly, he *did not die*.
Tradition has it that he miraculously survived what should've been certain death, and he was nursed back to health..... only to die shortly afterwards, bludgeoned to death after speaking out and directly criticising the emperor who had sentenced him to death.
Miraculous survival and severe consequences for speaking up against those who wronged you. I sure wonder why Andy's so interested in the guy.
---
2 - Saviour II and the "Exemplary Sufferer"
You know how I said the link between Saint Sebastian and the gay community didn't really have anything to do with this? Well that's still basically true, but I would like to draw your attention to this passage from an article detailing that relationship:
You won't know about this if you aren't subscribed to the TAS Patreon, but the original music video concept for Saviour II was quite a bit more complex than the final product (damn you, Sumerian). Out of respect for the fact it's paid content I won't be posting photos directly from there here, but here's the Sparknotes summary:
- The video was supposed to have Andy's body falling apart more and more over the course of the song, until by the end he's stripped practically bare and covered in blood.
- The sketch he posted has him wearing nothing but a cloth that, funnily enough, looks pretty similar to the loincloth Saint Sebastian is often depicted wearing.
- He uses like 5 different brushes to draw the blood/bruising, but notably there are circular splotches of blood on his torso that correspond basically perfectly to the positioning of the arrows on that statue.
- You can actually see these in the music video itself, he's wearing rather thick chain bracelets on both wrists. Saint Sebastian is pretty much invariably depicted tied to a post/tree by his arms, usually his wrists.
Additionally, certain lyrics of Saviour II seem to play into the idea of the "exemplary sufferer" described in the article excerpt - accepting the pain given to him quietly, not allowing it to affect his art:
Given all of this, I suspect that Andy had hoped to tackle this theme in that music video, but due to constraints placed on the band (DAMN YOU SUMERIAN) was unable to do so. However, as we've seen with Bleeders, the band clearly have more budget and freedom under their new label.... and given Andy got that tattoo quite a while after Saviour II's release, he clearly hasn't stopped thinking about it yet.
#black veil brides#bvb7 posting#beloved freakazoid#would like to thank lobotomy for helping me with this insanity#couldn't do it without you guys
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NEW girlfailure! Girl who has firmly convinced herself that she's been struck with quantum immortality, and lives her life accordingly (reckless and stupid).
Ends up getting involved in a fight between two vampires and almost dies (but doesnt!!! immortality PROVEN!), and is rewarded by the winner with an opportunity to become her kin. However said vampire is kinda stinky and a heavy smoker (ew) so she just runs away instead, with her now questionably human body & cool new scars to chuuni out about
#my art#artists on tumblr#oc#original character#my artwork#drawing#digital art#kind of an overly detailed premise here but bear with me#quantum immortality is like. if infinite parallel universes where everything happens are real then theres one where you just keep surviving#every possible incident life throws at you even if the odds are crazy against you#and she believes she is that version of herself bc she really does have a cockroach like tendency to just keep surviving#basically her story is just her getting into shit bc she believes shes above consequences. and then theres that vampire observing her antic#while smoking 10 cigs at once about it all#bc thats what observing eyepatch girl here does to you#the matter of her body isss she wasnt quite turned but the vampire gave her some of her blood to stop her from immediately dying#and it was enough to have An Effect on her so itd be like ideal for her to stay under her supervision. but eyepatch doesnt want that#shes got lots of crazy scars from the incident and she feels very cool about them. but she also covers them up because thats also a cool th#ng to do#her cool secrets :)))))#oc lore#woah this got long. shouldve just made a post about it.
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Source: The Washington Post
#“mobile chateau”#so what if I cried after reading this 😭😭#this article was well written#but it does have a major flaw in being absolutely wrong about Esteban and the incidents with his teammates#there are so many things I want to share from this article#the huge sacrifice Esteban's parents did for him will forever leave me at awe of them#the way they tried to protect him from the consequences of the decision that they made...#to make everything as comfortable as possible for him#even if in the end he still felt the pressure 🥺#esteban ocon#eo31
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Jones was born in the year of the Fall, and grew up in a world in which the British Empire's hold on the world was suddenly not a foregone conclusion. How this would impact him would not become apparent until his teens, when he was radilcalised during his time spent in England. He became heavily involved in the pan-Celtic movement into and throughout his university years. Despite his age, he quickly became a known face amongst friends and foes alike. Jones had a knack for words and for people, and could just as easily rally a crowd with a passionate speech as negotiate across a table from adversaries. He was becoming a political problem.
It was during a speech in 1883 that things had gone wrong. He's not sure himself what had lit that fuse, that had set the rally alight, whether the first blow had come from the police or the crowd. But suddenly there was chaos, and the constables were upon them. One of his comrades was pulled to the ground beside him, the constable swinging at her with a nightstick. Jones grabbed at the man, several stone heavier, tried in vain to pull him off of her. A swing of that nightstick connecting with the side of his face is what he got for his trouble. Half blinded by blood, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he pulled back his fist and threw a punch.
He doesn't remember much after that.
His memories of the next few weeks are hazy, a procession of lawyers, sympathetic faces, furious family. He was being charged for murder. The officer he'd hit had died two days later. One punch thrown at the wrong angle. The prosecution was out for blood. They were determined to make an example of him, get him out of the way, it's all politics, the union leader had told him. He should be ashamed, he's ruined the family's good name, their mother cannot talk about him without bursting into tears, his brother told him. He can get through this, it shouldn't be too long, and she'll be waiting for him on the other side, his girlfriend had told him.
The ship bound for Italy, and eventually, the Cumaean Canal was the list time he'd seen the sun. He was twenty-two.
#jones#don't think i've ever publicly talked about what happened#the man who came out of new newgate fourteen years later has some similarities to the kid who went in#some#this incident is one that's lodged itself in his psyche#one wrong choice and his life ended#one that didn't seem like it should have the impact that it did and yet#to this day when he's forced into a high pressure situation he freezes#can't seem to bring himself to act#because what if#what if there are consequences to his actions that he could never foresee
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Happy late bi visibility day, here is a potato quality wip of my Curse of Strahd pc Lorenzo, (dhampir necromancer) he is bi and now he is visible, some day I’ll finish his ref sheet
(not pictured: mouth full of pointed teeth, patches of ash-grey scales, sinister compulsions)
#you know what despite all prior incidents I’m hopeful for Lorenzo#there couldn’t possibly be any unforseen consequences to flirting with Strahd von zarovich#curse of strahd#dungeon and/or dragon#dhampir#dnd oc#curse of lorenzo#my art
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idt it's normal for my calf to abruptly start feeling a vibrating sensation and have sharp pain at the sole of my feet but also i know it'll go in 5 minutes and it's never actually resulted in anything beyond that short term pain so i don't think I need to do anything about it
right?
#/genuine#chronic pain#I'm always on the edge because what if this is the one incident which actually has long term consequences that I'm brushing off
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at 12/13 years old, i was introduced to the term "masterbation" for the first time in my life (I'm aroace so maybe that's why i didnt care/know about it before then) and it was from the mega church i went to.
all they taught us about it was that it was a sinful urge and that people spoke to our pastor from all over the world to "cure" them of it and one dude even wrote in a testimony to say he'd been praying to be "free" from that sin and was now "cured" from masterbation for x number of years.
i remember 12/13 year old me turning to my youth leader and asking what masterbation was cause the pastor wouldn't actually tell is what it was, just that it was bad. i dont remember what her expression was but she didn't exactly answer my question and i kept been confused for a few years before finding out on my own and thinking i was going to hell for sinning by accident.
kids who werent raised christian being like "lol baptising children is whack if they tried to do that to me i would start doing things to make it look like i was possessed" no you would not. you would bask in the pride and approval coming from the adults around you and you would quietly wait your turn because you were told from birth that sinning sends you to hell and baptism is The Promise that youre dedicating your life to jesus that youve had hyped up for years and watched other people be fawned over as they cry happy tears about it and you do NOT want to fuck up your One Big True Promise To Love Jesus Forever So You Don't Get Tortured For Eternity when you are literally 8 years old. im begging yall to remember its a thousand times easier to see the church's bullshit for what it is when you're not actively in the church. eight year old you is not thinking about trying to fight back against an oppressive religious group indoctrinating children because You Are The Children Being Indoctrinated. stop acting like you would've magically known better if it were you.
#tw christianity#tw christians#tw church#another incident i clearly rmb is this one dancer from our church suddenly not performing anymore during praise and worship#i found out from a friend that the dancer had be kicked out of the group cause they found out she was gay#can you imagine that... kicking a Christian child that YOU raised out of your church dance group for being gay#it doesn't even matter that she could still attend the church... they kicked “their own” out for something she couldn't help#when I was younger i scoffed at people saying my church was a cult and thought nothing of our leaders encouraging us to date within the#church cause we were all familiar with each other and wouldnt it be better to date someone who loved the lord as i did?#then when i grew up and lost faith in the people in the church (and consequently god himself) i could see all the cracks in the facade#how when you were kids they'd chastise you for dating a friend in church and boy/girl relationships#but as soon as you started uni they would start “setting you up” with the same Christians in the church who they forbade you from dating#and you see all your peers or youth leaders finding partners within the church and marrying after a couple years#it's scary when you're in it cause you're just a kid who knows nth of the world and wants to be accepted by your peers/family#you have NO outside insight or help cause all anyone says is that “it's a cult” but those people aren't your family who raised you Christia#so what do they know? they might just be jealous of your faith and want to sway you
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Huh I just realised, what kinda riles up my psychosis is usually the type of things that rlly have an impact on me, like say guilt … GOD. Guilt genuinely takes a hold of me completely. That and shame. Like ;; listen. I just forgot the intensity of the guilt and shame I held today probably bc I shared it with dahlia idk, and then although I intellectually feel super guilty and ashamed, it’s not as terrifying as before, it’s more manageable. Like I can actually do other things now apart from thinking abt it ? But like nah I kinda remember it a lot now so maybe I should stop talking abt it.
#I feel such a big urge to apologise like I’m rlly sorry but idk what’s happening these days ? idk im trying super duper hard to get a reign#over myself ??? but it’s weird it’s so hard to control it all#like#dora daily#idk bro … like the guilt of the thing mixed with guilt of so many things and#can I be honest ? I feel so guilty for Hal and meto um#if they see it idk I mean I hope they don’t but I just need to say it#this probably doesn’t make sense and that it’s a mess but I feel like I’m just burdening everyone with stuff#I don’t know what’s right or wrong .. like am I asking for too much ? not enough ?#this all doesn’t seem very consistent. I know . it sounds all jumbled#I’m not sure what’s happened to me these past days ? I think my brain is muddled and like idk when I speak#it sounds weird now bc it feels like I’m talking gibberish half the time ? or very nonsensical stuff#I feel like a two year old trying to form words sometimes which is scary cause I’ve always articulated myself rlly well#I’m scared bc that other day I hit my head rlly bad#what if this is a consequence of that incident ?#idk how on earth I started talking abt how I hit my head from feeling guilty#see ? I don’t understand how I’m thinking rn it’s so messy
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Cat in the Hat:
"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.
I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.
It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."
https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954
Prof. Karl Lauterbach
Health Minister, Germany
4 December 2023
"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.
There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.
We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.
We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.
This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.
What is the overall assessment of the situation now?
We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.
So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.
At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:
First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.
Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.
Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.
Please protect yourself from severe infections.
Please protect yourself from long Covid.
Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."
Alt text is included in all images of this post.
#covid#not a cold#please wear a mask#pandemic#pandemic not over#long covid#Karl Lauterbach#Germany#German health minister
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I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.
The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.
So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.
My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.
This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.
My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.
Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”
That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.
We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.
The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.
I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️
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just for tonight
a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).
summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”
warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie
word count: 4907
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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”
“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always.
“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”
Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing.
But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side.
It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow.
Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking.
You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.
“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you.
“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips.
“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.”
A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”
The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late.
You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.
“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”
“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”
“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you.
A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you.
The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit.
Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep.
When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed.
Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form.
But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.
“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut.
And so, he didn’t.
Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed.
Barely an hour passed before you woke.
Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain.
Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath.
“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times.
“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.”
“Did you have a nightmare?”
“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”
As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”
Your eyes then widened, “I did?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug.
Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you.
“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked.
“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.”
A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.”
Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door.
Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”
He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.
When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine.
As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.
And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer.
But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back.
“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”
“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”
“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”
A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”
“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”
“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.”
Can’t or won’t?
Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?”
As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips.
It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen.
As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.
Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks.
With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features.
“Yes,” you whispered swiftly.
But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”
“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin.
“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone.
“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core.
“To what, huh?”
“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth.
“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.
“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you.
“Say it again,” he tilted his chin.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks.
“I want you to fuck me, please!”
With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.
Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra.
Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.
Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well.
You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off.
Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours.
Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle.
The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff.
When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch.
Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy.
A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit.
“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch.
“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”
“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.
“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.”
Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.
Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess.
“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.
Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper.
When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity.
Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him.
With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him.
The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you.
Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him.
“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”
Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up.
Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic.
When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free.
“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal.
Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?”
“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.”
“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.
“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh.
“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.”
“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…”
“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times.
“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”
“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach.
Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.
“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets.
“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.
“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately.
“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”
“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside.
His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him.
Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open.
Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him.
Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.
“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”
One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach.
“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”
“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up.
A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable.
He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth.
“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”
With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below.
Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit.
The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.
“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own.
“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.
Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace.
The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back.
“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”
“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half.
“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.”
And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.
His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own.
You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.
After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table.
“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.
“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south.
“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?”
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bodyguard!bucky#bodyguard!bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes hc#bucky x reader#sebastian stan smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes oneshot#winter soldier smut
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But if Batman won't adopt Danny... who will?
Starfire, and she is all over her new little brother!
Shortly after establishing the Teen Titans, Robin (Dick) introduces “Phantom” to the group, because seriously, he’s not introducing him as “Danny.” Kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity when you use your name in your superhero moniker. And shows Phantom his room.
Robin’s actual goal is to get Phantom to join the Titans, but even taking short cuts through the Ghost Zone, Jump City is still a good ways away from Amity Park, and he has parents, so… It’s still a nice gesture and all, and Phantom will come visit, but no.
Still, he’s never met other teens who are heroes in their own right like he is, so he’s excited to meet Robin’s new team. The other Titans think it’s a little weird for this not-member to have his own room in the Tower, but the place is huge, and Robin trusts him, so it’s fine. It’s a bit awkward at first as they’re all still getting used to each other, but Phantom quickly makes friends with all of them.
But it’s his friendship with Starfire that grows first and fastest. As soon as he finds out she’s an alien from another planet, he latches on and must know everything. Starfire more than welcomes the attention. While she knows the Titans care for her, they’re not always… receptive to the traditions and customs of her culture. Phantom, on the other hand, is enraptured as she tells him about her culture, her holidays, the planets she’s been to, everything.
So she asks if he’d be interested in learning Tamaranean? Yes! 100%! Absolutely! Phantom picks up the language quickly and returns the favor by helping Starfire with her English. While the ability to absorb language through lips is handy, it’s by no means perfect, and Phantom helps her with things like contractions, slang, idioms, etc.
It also helps that after a couple sparring sessions with each other, Phantom and Starfire realize just how durable their partner is. For Starfire, the people and things on Earth can be so delicate. And for Phantom, if he doesn’t watch himself and hurts a human too badly, it’s just more justification to call him an “evil ghost” that should be ripped apart molecule by molecule. Both are thrilled to finally be able to fight all out again without worrying about the consequences if they lose. And Starfire also uses it to teach Phantom some Tamaranean martial arts for aerial combat so maybe he’ll stop crashing into so many walls.
But what really changes the relationship is the Body Swap incident (not to be confused with the Freaky Friday incident). Similar to what happened with the Puppet King in Switched, Phantom and Starfire switch bodies while fighting an enemy. Unlike what happened in Switched, Phantom and Starfire and two teen powerhouses with green energy powers triggered by emotions. And the emotional triggers they use are in the same ballpark. Starfire’s “unbridled joy of flight” to fly is very similar to how Phantom revels in the pure freedom of flight he feels. Both get angry when they use blasts. It’s very much a “if you believe in it, you can do it” kind of power set. Starfire can’t really figure out Phantom’s more ghostly abilities like invisibility or intangibility, but they very quickly adapt to each other’s shared powers on the fly during battle. But there’s one power Starfire wants to use against the hordes of minions that Phantom won’t share the trigger for: the Ghostly Wail. He tries to tell her it’s not a good move, that it’ll use up too much power, it should only be used as a last resort, it’ll cause too much collateral damage, etc., but Starfire wants to know, and eventually he tells her.
“T-terror… and desperation.”
Starfire rushes to give Phantom the biggest hug ever because those are such horrible feelings, and she doesn’t want to imagine what conditions must have led to him developing such a power because no one should have to feel such feelings. He is right; and that is not a power she needs to use to win this battle. The minions are defeated, the villain is forced into a temporary retreat, and the Teen Titans return to the Tower to regroup and plan.
However, Starfire doesn’t know how to power through and hold onto Phantom’s ghostly form, and as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off, rings of white light spread out of her middle, and Phantom turns back into Danny in the middle of the living room.
But more importantly, everyone needs to get out of the way RIGHT NOW because while Phantom can ignore his biological needs for days, Danny can’t, and Starfire has never had to pee this badly ever in her whole life and everyone needs to MOVE, PLEASE! as she rushes into the nearest bathroom.
Phantom/Danny is now panicking, because even as an alien, he’s pretty sure she’s bound to notice that some bits of male anatomy that should be there are… missing. He’s begging her, through the door in Tamaranean, not to tell anyone about his secret. He’s not ready to come out yet, and he’s honestly pretty scared he’s about to lose her friendship, too. Starfire doesn’t really care. So long as you’re a strong warrior, Tamaraneans don’t care what’s going on in someone’s pants, and she’s just relieved she didn’t have to figure out different plumbing while in his body. Starfire opens the door. While she knows that the people of Earth are not always as understanding, Danny need not fear her. She will not tell anyone he's trans until he is ready to tell them himself and supports him and goes in for a hug.
Except you haven’t washed your hands; gross! They both laugh it off, but when Starfire goes to wash her hands, the water freezes. The cold energy in Danny’s core is building, and Starfire doesn’t know how to let it out. They need to switch back to their own bodies soon, or Danny’s body, and Starfire, might not survive. A little more training so Starfire can turn back into Phantom, and the Titans are ready for the final act, take down the final villain and Starfire and Phantom are back in their own bodies.
But after that, Phantom is no longer Starfire’s friend. Danny is her little brother, and she tells him her name is Koriand’r, or Kor’i for short.
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#dpxdc#arkham guard au#arkham guard backstory#trans!danny#danny phantom#starfire#this got long so I'll be splitting it into multiple parts#long post
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