#he loves that rat... B U T

[toastydumpster]

the duality of hog

[yurislotusgarden]

Hi there! Can I please request (separate) Fyodor, Nikolai, and Sigma with a reader who has a teleportation ability and loves to use it to tickle/tease them? There's no way you're sneaking up on Fyodor or Nikolai unless you have a teleportation ability, let's be honest XD. The kicker is that reader can just teleport away before the characters can get revenge and that makes for some very funny scenarios. Feel free to decline, I know my request is a tad strange XD

ʚїɞ Separately! Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma x Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ I literally struggled on 2 out of 6 scenarios sm for some reason help, and dw this was fun to write anon!

ʚїɞ word count: 2 136

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ Anon you’re so right, you can’t sneak up on this man unless you have a teleportation ability. Like even invisibility or similar wouldn’t probably work, but teleportation? Hell yeah.

ཐིཋྀ I think there would be a little bet on your side, how many times can you actually surprise him? You succeed far more than you first thought.

////////////////////

Computer light falling onto a silhouette could be seen upon looking into the room, Fyodor Dostoevsky was sitting in front of the many screens, planning his ever-so-successful plan to get rid of ability users. Not moving much for some time, one could mistake him for a statue instead, that's until he slightly jumped from feeling fingers moving along his sides.

Quiet giggling was all he heard when turning around, trying to catch the figure behind him, but unsuccessful upon the person disappearing before the dark-haired man could even touch them.

Fyodor’s ever so lovely s/o, you, have always loved doing little tricks to see just how much can you be unpredictable, even to this man ever since you noticed he doesn’t mind them… that much, at least.

////////////////

ཐིཋྀ This man, let me tell you, this man, is not safe ANYWHERE. 

ཐིཋྀ Office? “Oh? You’re ticklish Fedya? Nice to know”

ཐིཋྀ Hallways? Something as little as even a touch on the shoulder and getting out of there before he even manages to turn around.

ཐིཋྀ The house? U n l i m i t e d   p o s s i b i l i t i e s.

ཐིཋྀ No matter what he does, our dear Fedya is never safe from little pranks and tricks for your entertainment, shits and giggles.

///////////////////////

Listen, Fyodor really doesn’t mind you having fun with your ability here and there, but is it really too much to ask to organize things in peace? In your book, it seems it is.

Fyodor has some things written down on paper, and only one copy, as he believes it’s better to not keep some things on his computer. As much as it is un-hackable, his words he wants to be safe just in case. Better be safe than sorry, but it would be so much faster and easier to organize if papers didn’t change their place the moment his eyes were even slightly averted from them, if folders didn’t change their places, or more, if you didn’t mess with his stuff.

The rat placed the paper on the table and turned away to get a folder? A little quiet sound could be heard behind him. Turning around, the paper is gone as if it wasn’t there in the first place and is on the other side of the room. He turns back around to get the folder, but now that is gone too and is under a table.

Whether it’s papers that are moved around. From changing tables to even being moved to different folders, to folders that were perfectly organized in alphabetical order being all messed up. Every time he turns away, you would teleport in, take a folder out of the shelf, and teleport away. After a moment you would teleport back into a random ass place and place it there. The worst is that you do it not only when he organizes stuff, but also randomly on days he doesn't. 

Really, the organizing would be so much faster if he had peace… sad that he doesn’t.

////////////////////

“You gotta stop doing all that Myshka.”

“Stop what?”

“All those little jokes of yours. It’s irritating.”

“It’s irritating but you still smile at them?”

“...”

“What? You think I don’t know that you smile after I’m out of the room?”

“...”

“Why are you not saying anything? It’s scary-”

“About that thing you mentioned you wanted to try in be-”

“ALRIGHT! How about I make your favorite tonight? I didn’t make it for so long!”

“We had it last week, dorogaya*”

“Yeah… so long”

—--------------

You didn’t stop your antics at all in the end, and no matter how much Fyodor complains, he hopes you will never stop <3

ཐིཋྀ Yall have a literal competition

ཐིཋྀ Who's gonna surprise who more? Good question-

ཐིཋྀ You can be in the city buying things for yourself, feel a tug on your hair, and turning around you just see a glimpse of Nikolai’s portal.

ཐིཋྀ In turn, he may be doing his braid in the morning and feel a tug on the back of HIS hair, and only then noticing your already disappearing figure in the mirror behind him, not giving him a chance to even turn around😭

//////////////////////////

Morning sun rays fell upon the figure sitting in front of the mirror in the room. Nikolai was sitting quietly, still half asleep as it was around 7 am and he woke up not too long ago. The white-haired man was making his braid with closed eyes, the hand manner practically natural by now, in the quiet room. 

That was before he felt a slight tug on the back of his head, He opened his eyes in a fast movement, managing to catch only one thing in the mirror reflection behind him, the gentle light that comes with his s/o, you, using their ability.

A quiet sigh from the man could be heard in the room, a gentle smile on his face that he couldn’t stop from appearing.

“You just couldn’t stop yourself from doing that, huh, Dove?” Nikolai spoke knowing you were still in the room,  as well as he noticed that he had to redo most of the braid he had done till now.

“It’s revenge for what you did last week, Kolya”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”

“Hmm… I also don’t know what I’m talking about when I say I won’t be baking the cookies you wanted”

“Wait!-”

That certainly woke him up.

///////////////////////////

ཐིཋྀ Others are so done with yall I swear

ཐིཋྀ There’s no shame, you guys do it to each other in public all the time, not only in private. You once decided it was a good idea to scare him on a meeting with Sigma… it ended with you scaring them both

ཐིཋྀ You apologized, only to Sigma though

ཐིཋྀ He, in turn, scared you while you were out with a friend people stared at you two like you had 2 heads after screaming in the middle of the sidewalk for seemingly no reason

ཐིཋྀ He did not apologize to either of you

ཐིཋྀ So yeah, you both are not safe from the other absolutely anywhere or with anyone even in the bathroom

//////////////////////////////////////

You and Nikolai were visiting Sigma at the Sky Casino, although you disappeared around half an hour after the two of you got there. To where? A good question that the white head doesn't have an answer to. 

"I'm telling you no is my answer." 

"But are you sure it's your final answer?" 

"Yes.. or wait-" 

Good ol' doubt in an answer for Nikolai's quiz. He just needs to wait till Sigma says the wrong answer and he will be able to- 

THUD

Whirling around or looking ahead, depending on the male, both noticed a book on the ground, a piece of literature the bi-colored-haired Man could swear he didn't have in his office.

Sigma stood up and slowly walked over to the book on the ground, he bent down to pick it up. Just as he straightened up, a sound of something hitting the floor sounded throughout the office. Looking back at the desk behind the males, a folder the younger of the two was working on beforehand, was lying on the floor.

“Is all the stuff in my office gonna be falling down or appearing out of thin air now?”

Just as Sigma spoke, the sound of something heavier, like the book from earlier, flew across the office, and then a sigh was heard right after.

“I think so, dear friend!”

Nikolai was acting cocky for the next few minutes as things would fall or appear out of nowhere, thinking that you are playing with only Sigma for fun. He realized it was you when the folder fell off the desk, but what he didn’t realize, was that he wasn’t safe at all.

He should’ve remembered that you absolutely love to play around with him by doing something to his hair, so he should’ve expected the tug on his hair from the back or the feeling of his hat gone from his head that came next.

And he couldn’t do anything even if he whirled around immediately, as your figure disappeared in gentle light just as he did so.

“Goddammit.”

“Told you to look around.”

“But Sigma!!! I thought-”

—--------------

If he could change one thing about your guys' games, it would be that damn hair part. Never understood why you love it so much, but at the same time, he didn’t protest against it on a serious note before.

ཐིཋྀ The poor guy-

ཐིཋྀ He’s just trying to work but you mess up his paperwork😭

ཐིཋྀ Like, he goes out of the office for a little to take a look around the casino but then comes back to the chaos that is his desk after

///////////////

The bi-hair-colored man entered his office quietly. It was quite dark, as the sun already started to set some time ago. He wondered what you, his lovely s/o, were doing at the moment as you insisted on staying in the main room earlier during your small talk with Sigma after spotting him walking around.

Upon laying his eyes on his desk once he got close enough, Sigma noticed that some things were moved around. The paper that he was writing on before got moved up by 8 centimeters, exactly 2 papers from the right got moved to the far left of the desk, in exchange, 3 papers from the left got moved to the place the 2 papers from the right were in before, he also had 3 files on his desk before, but now there was  5, and none of them being the 2 that were there before.

The reason behind that wasn’t hard to guess.

“You still here, dear?”

But it also wasn’t hard to guess that you stayed close by.

“Of course!” The response came with you appearing behind him, and together with a light tickling feeling on his neck.

…He had to start his work all over again.

…At least you brought cookies though.

//////////////

ཐིཋྀ You don’t surprise him TOO much, due to you wanting to let him work, however, that doesn't mean that you scaring him isn't a regular occurrence.

ཐིཋྀ Just got done talking with someone and had plans to go back to the office? You’re standing right behind him, causing him to jump.

ཐིཋྀ That one file he thought he lost? You coincidentally know where it is completely not where it’s supposed to be

ཐིཋྀ He woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom? What the fuck is that shadow in the corner on the way back? it’s you who woke up

ཐིཋྀ You scare the workers of the casino as well by accident most of the time😭

/////////////

He was just trying to comb his hair, but no, of course, his comb was not where it was meant to be, and of course, the spare one was missing as well.

His stuff had been going missing before being found in the most random places possible. Sigma didn’t want to assume his beloved was at fault, but at the same time, this was happening way too much lately.

His heels? Moved from the hallway to the kitchen.

The glass of water he left on the counter? Found in his office, once he got there.

Once, all of his hairbands went missing, and he found every single one of them placed around in books, folders, cabinets, and even under papers he left on his desk.

The bi-colored-haired man decided to speak up with a slightly louder tone, in case you were somewhere in a farther corner of the apartment.

“[Name]?”

“Yes, cotton?”

He decided to ignore that he jumped a little at your surprise entrance behind him. Should’ve expected you wouldn’t use the door.

“Do you know where my comb is?”

A hum came from you. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Can’t find it. Thought you would know.”

“Going into assuming right away, aren’t we?”

It’s not that the man doesn’t trust you, but you’ve done little tricks like this so many times that no one could blame him if they tried. The teasing tone in your voice didn't help the situation.

“Can you blame me?”

“...No.”

“...You have it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

/////////////////

Sigma doesn’t mind, it’s a part of your personality, but he would really appreciate if you stopped moving his stuff around. That would certainly help.

Notes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated

* 'Dorogaya' means love/sweetheart in Russian if the translator I used didn't fail me ;-;

[just-a-carrot]

nah bc orlam does have that shakespeare language. like he speaks in fluent reddit pseudo-intellectualism, I think. bro flips through the thesaurus with his feet when he texts iggy to find big words to use and the entire time he’s like “oh the hoes (iggy) are gonna LOOOOOOOOOVE this” (iggy does not know what half of the words mean)

anyways back to my 12 page MLA formatted essay as to why I think orlam is a reddit mod on at least 3 subreddits—

exhibit a.) fedora wearer

exhibit b.) uses big words when he really doesn’t need to

exhibit c.) not straight

exhibit d.) business major

exhibit e.) worked a dead end IT job at some point

exhibit f.) middle name “dagwud”. need I say more?

exhibit g.) lived at home with parents in college

exhibit h.) probably owns at least one samurai sword hanging in his room somewhere

exhibit i.) look at him.

exhibit j.) his playlist is literally called “the depths of my soul”. like okay bro hot topic is that way-

exhibit k.) he’s got the reddit mod phenotype.

exhibit l.) rat-like in stature

exhibit m.) questionable hair

exhibit n.) ginger (trust me on this one)

exhibit o.) looks like he would ask me if I take reddit karma as payment

exhibit p.) “as you can see here, genzou, I have made YOU the soyjak and ME the chad, so therefore I have WON this argument”

exhibit q.) blurry on whether or not he’d sell NFT’s (I’m sorry bro but I can’t trust business majors like that 😔😔😔)

exhibit r.) bro probably thinks his comebacks are the most intelligent thing the world has ever witnessed. he wonders why he isn’t famous by now. he’s so smart guys did you know he’s so smart-

exhibit s.) PRESIDENT OF ALPHA KAPPA PSI

exhibit t.) white dress shirt wearer. I know what you are

exhibit u.) has 100% said “very wholesome this is reddit gold worthy” at some point or something along those lines

exhibit v.) haha. nerd.

exhibit w.) creature feature listener I KNOW what you ARE

exhibit x.) homosexual situationship that destroyed him as a person and altered his brain chemistry for life. tbh same.

exhibit y.) probably got a yaoi folder he is not exempt from that because he’s in his mid-30’s

exhibit z.) reiterating my point: LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

although I will say he beats the “not showering” allegations bc I am so glad to know that he takes care of himself and is hygienic……he’s already better than most reddit mods. and the fact that he canonically pulls and Is Able To Woo People

I can't believe you actually went through the whole alphabet this is so intense 🤣

I have nothing to say besides bravo, this is a work of art LOL

this is probably true tho I do believe that of all of them, Orlam probably spends the most time online. I think he would love (and be good at) cultivating spaces and being a mod in general as he has no problem cracking down on ppl following the rules (and he loves being treated like a god lol). he yearns to hold the masses in his hands...

[angelicsjn]

how would the yans react if something paranormal happened to them?? (like seeing someone walking when they are alone, strange noises, things moving on their own, etc)

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES

A N: I love anything paranormal, omg. From movies to real-life incidents. I also have a few of my own experiences with the paranormal.

A B O U T: They experience something paranormal.

W A R N I N G S: Paranormal; mentions of people dying and haunting; the boys being scared, lol.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman is a, 'I'll believe it when I see it', kinda person.

This means that anything paranormal doesn't really reach anyone with that mindset due to him being closed off to it.

But with the offchance, he'd see something scurry past him from the corner of his eyes—he'd blame it on his sleeping schedule during the season.

But if this continuously happen, he starts to honestly feel a little crazy.

He doesn't think, 'It's a ghost', he feels like he needs to get professional help or at least a weeks rest, blaming it on fatigue.

— LATEN REED.

He watches lots of horror movies, he loves them, so he's definitely open to it all.

He does believe in the paranormal, and he's even snuck off into abandoned buildings before with his friends in search of finding anything strange.

But sadly, they never caught anything besides a couple of rats and even a homeless person.

When he does experience something, he's confused as to whether it was sleep paralysis or something paranormal, but either way, he's scared shitless.

He calls you in the middle of the night, stuttering under panicked whispered breath, 'something fucking whispered in my ear and touched my hair, what the fuck, holy fucking fuckballs.'

He doesn't sleep for a week.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Lmao. Whatever happens to Jae? He deserves. 🥰

He's never really thought about anything realistically paranormal. He does read the Reddit stories and watches horror movies, but he's never considered that perhaps he could experience something himself.

Rumours around the company building had circulated for years. He and the group assumed it was to scare the rookies.

The jist is that a woman who worked as an assistant died in the storage room due to faulty electrics, where she was only found a month later.

Due to the fact that she had been left there for so long, she now haunts the hallways of the building.

Jae laughed each time he heard the story until he had to grab something from the same storage room that she died in.

Did he see anything? No. But as he walked in, the air was thick, cold, sad. As he grabbed the items, he felt a chilling breath breeze across the back of his neck. He's never ran so fast in his life.

He refuses to go inside that room ever again...

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

Kaidan only had to spend a week in some influencer house, it was pure torture, honestly.

Being surrounded by cameras, loud people, food, and drinks that were only there for PR and advertisement.

But his time only grew worse after experiencing night terrors—every. Single. Night.

Waking up, sweating, and yet freezing cold. He texts you each time in a dazed panic, needing comfort.

Dreams of being killed, seeing people being killed, a man in particular. One night, he woke up to the feeling of someone—something—attempting to drag him out of bed.

On the last day, he spoke to one of the other influencers of his bad dreams, only then he found out that the house was built over an old house which had been demolished due to activity due to a wife murdering her husband in psychotic rage.... scary.

— HAYDEN WEST.

Hayden believes in it, and he's had plenty of experiences.

From night walks in the dark, taking photos in graveyards, adding to his portfolios in the streets during the cooler seasons, he's bound to have seen or heard something.

The creepiest was during a midnight walk. He had heard stories in the forest; witchcraft, mysterious disappearances, dog walkers seeing things that weren't entirely human as their dogs bark madly into the void.

He wanted to take photos, to look at the scenery, and to find the old debilitated cottage, knowing it would make a cool photo in the darkness; with its haunted history of bubbling cauldrons which contained the bones of teenage girls, y'know, small town tales.

Once home, back in the warmth, as he began looking through each photo, editing them, and so on—he only realised a face from the cracked window of the cottage; blurry, haunting, and vile stood the hag from the old stories.

He claims that he hasn't been the same since, but I'd wager he's just being dramatic...

— JOSHUA WHITE.

Being a man of religion, of course, he believes in anything spiritual.

Unlike the others, he doesn't fear it. It's most likely a message, a sign.

Until the floorboards creaked in the stillness of night, his skin cold underneath his blankets as he awoken to the sound of his grandmother's voice, calling out to him, the voice's steps trailing up and down the landing, across his bedroom door.

Only did it stop once he began to murmur a prayer, knowing that whatever it was, it most certainly wasn't his late grandmother....

— BLAKE CROSS.

The Cross family all come from old money, rich beyond necessary, with estates, plots of land, and historical buildings all in their grasp.

What comes with this? History. Dense history that is usually paired with a darker touch. Especially when these places have been owned by the Cross family for countless generations, most of them reclaimed buildings and renovated into manor homes, holiday villas, and so on.

For the summer, Blake wanted to scoop all of his friends up and take a trip to their family holiday home; out in nature, by the ocean, and atop a hill that holds history from a battle where guns weren't even thought of yet.

He was proud of this history, honestly, to have a manor as beautiful as it is, out where nature dominated and history bled into it, he loved the seaside manor.

After a night of drinking, he took his heavy limbs outside, enjoying the sea-bitten air as he rubbed his temples, regretting drinking so much.

From afar, the sounds of iron meeting each other were heard with the screams of battle cries. Looking at his phone, it was 4 a.m., his eyes still adjusting, and as he looked up, he blinked at the sight of a lone soldier that stood, his armour glittering under the slowly rising sun, his sword dug into the ground.

Blake never told anyone of this experience. He couldn't. He'd sound insane. He blames his hangover, but in the back of his mind, he knew it to be true.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Jan 25th

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1. I'm begging to know if you have this fic. Years back, I read a fic where Wei Ying is exiled from the Lan clan and in the process becomes mute kind of (?) by choice. Years-ish later the Lan clan would beg him back to teach the juniors dark arts, and after something he would comply. It's a lot of Lan Zhan trying to apologize and Wei Ying not taking it afterwards, but I do believe it has a good ending. Do you perhaps know what this fic is? I've been trying to dig out the name for a month or so now. @sunshines-child

FOUND? Wei Ying's Destroyed Heart by Belladonna01234 (Wattpad)

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2. hi!!! im looking for a genderbend fic( i think ?) where wwx is set to marry jin guangyao (theyre each others beards) and lwj is the florist, or maybe the other way around. i didnt read it, i only remember those specific things bc of the tags and the summary, but most definitely one of them is the florist at the other's wedding, and they meet and such is life. thank you so much!!!

FOUND! Widow's Weeds by travelingneuritis (E, 18k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Gardens & Gardening, Wedding Planning, wedding thwartin, grich people are terrible, Light-Hearted, Smut, Gender Changes, Getting Together, offscreen deaths played for laughs, this is meant to be silly don't worry about it, Scheming, Plotting, wwx and jgy are accidentally-on-purpose bearding each other but i keep it PG, wwx running laps around the entire jin sect)

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3. Hello! I am looking for a fic which I am 90% sure is a WWX/LWJ fic, but there is a 10% chance it might be Keith/Shiro from Voltron (oops, ehe, if so please disregard this ask!). It is a modern au where WWX looks like a rough guy, maybe from a motorcycle gang, and LWJ is a lovely put together businessman. The office where LWJ works begins to notice their boss (LWJ) meeting with tattooed WWX and they think WWX might be up to no good! But WWX is actually a cop or fireman, and he just looks a bit like a road rat. They eat pastries together on their lunch break. Does this ring a bell? I have been looking for ages! Thank you!!!

3 is definitely a Voltron fic if the other blades of Marmora are Keith's fellow cops.

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4. Hi! For fic finder, there is a fic that i only read the summary and a snippet of the story. I didnt read that fic at first because it is not something i usually read, but now its haunting me. Its ice skating au. I think there are "madam yu bashing" In the tag (im not sure). And the snippet i read is NHS beat up WC in secluded place in revenge for WWX. There are no CCTV and NHS said to WC that no one will believe him that NHS beat him up. I know its short, but i really dont know the story. Thank you!

FOUND! enough, for me by doodlebutt (T, 1k, Modern AU) which takes place during chapter 7 of All the shine of a thousand spotlights (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, figure skating, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Getting Together, background relationships - chengqing; xuanli; xiyao, Background Pregnancy, the mortifying ordeal of Talking About Your Feelings, sexually tense pair skating, There Was Only One Bed)

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5. WWX and LZ are flabbergasted to see the other alive: WWX was burning paper money at LZ’s funeral as LZ died protecting him and LZ was attending WWX’s funeral as LZ failed to protect WWX during a nighthunt. The universe did some weird shit that merged the two timelines so now they’re both alive and with each other. I can’t find it anywhere @selena10180

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6. There was this fic, i don't remember, wwx was single and pregnant and his family (i think jiangs or wen? ) was with him? If u could find this fic and more like it?

FOUND? All I Want by Selenay (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, No Powers, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, Teacher WWX, Rating earned in later chapters, Handwavey Biology)

FOUND? Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, First Time, Getting Together, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Whump, Breeding Kink) could also be this

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7. hi!! im looking for an unfinished (as of when i read it at least!!) accidental baby acquisition fic where wwx drops a baby (lsz i believe!) off at lwjs door in the middle of the night and disappears — i know thats vague but i dont remember a lot of details? it was a lot of introspection and confusion on lwjs part, kind of OH SHIT i have to look after this baby now n wwx is vanished n idk whats going on. n to my memory in the next chapter or so wwx comes back and is still rlly weird n mysterious n frustrating abt the babys origins n theres wx vibes but lwj is real confused. sorry i dont have more detail but i really hope i can find it!!!

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8. Hi! :D I really hope you can help me find this fic! I have been looking for weeks! it's driving me nuts!

I remember that WWX doesn't die and LXC help him live hidden in CR using the identity of a Lan that has died, WWX is taking care of LWJ/is LWJ's servant, there is a scene where they are in Lanling (I think) and WWX has befriended some of the servants there, him and one? of them are talking about WWX's feelings for LWJ/if LWJ love WWX/or something like that, and then LWJ is there, I'm pretty sure they go somewhere else and confess to e/o

FOUND! Unbreakable Heaven, Luminous Earth by carolyncaves (M, 96k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Secret Identity, almost to the point of uncomfortable identity theft, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Suicidal Thoughts, that's for WWX after Nightless City and is not pervasive throughout the fic, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Imbalance, mainly between WWX and JGY in an entirely nonsexual manner, this isn't really a kid fic but the kids are there, as are some yunmeng sibling feelings, JYL lives, Not Everyone Dies AU, some COVID parallels, this is not a quarantine fic, but thematically WWX deals w things like face-covering for safety and loss of control, also assume all canon warnings, this AU is gentler than canon but isn't a complete fix-it)

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9. Hi hi! Thanks for your wonderful recommendations always! I’m looking for a wangxian fic where WWX has a breakdown in the lotus pier courtyard and the vibes are like “I’ve tried so hard for so long and for what; I can’t anymore; I’m so alone” and the Jiangs are like “… oh shit” and then treat him better after that and help him bear the burdens. (I can’t remember if WWX is a dragon also?) @vi-sky

#9 while the suggestion is great I don’t think this is the fix I was looking for. I don’t think the Jiangs find out about anything until WWX has the breakdown in the courtyard, and I think he kept it to himself for awhile as opposed to his breakdown being chapter 1 in the recommended.

NOT FOUND! 🧡 (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 198k, WIP, WangXian, Suicide attempt, Time Travel, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Self-Harm)

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10. Hello! I can't remember much details but I think lan zhan lands on an unfamiliar planet, there he meet wei ying. Wei ying appearance is different, his body i think is color pink? or blue or like galaxy (눈▽눈) I 'm not really sure but he is not human , also wei ying is shy at first and then warm up eventually. Wahh thank you in advance!

~*~

11. Hello! For fic finder: I am trying to find a fic I read recently (within the last 6 months or so) where Wei Wuxian cultivates a resentful energy core but it was held outside his body in the Yin Tiger Tally. Lan Wangji doesn’t know that, so he convinces Wei Wuxian to give up the Tiger Tally as a gesture of peace. Everyone gathers around to watch and are horrified when as Wei Wuxian crushes the Tiger Tally in his hand and the Tally crumbles to dust, Wei Wuxian keels over in terrible agony at losing his core a second time. I think Wangji rushes over to help but Wen Qing pushes him away. It wasn't Decay by antebunny (although that is a good fic!!). Any thoughts? Thank you!

~*~

12. hi I just remembered a fic in modern verse where Wei Ying boarded a flight that disappeared mid air and landed after 10+ yrs and Lan Zhan comes to pick up from the airport once he gets the news. I can't seem to find it can you please help and thanks for your efforts its bought me across many amazing fanfics

FOUND! 看客散去唯你我不忘 | the world forgets but i still remember you by prettyxianxian (T, 11k, wangxian, Modern, Flashbacks, POV Multiple, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives AU, Insecurities à la WWX, manifest au, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Parent YZY, Good Parent JFM)

~*~

13. Hello!! I'm looking for a fic that I was sure i had reblogged but now I can't find it anywhere 😔 It was on tumblr not ao3. LWJ is sex-cursed and he has to be touched by the person he loves. It was during the burial mound days and WWX is isolated from the cultivation world, and also LWJ refuses to ask him for help for that, he'drather die. LXC finds out and takes an unconscious LWJ to the burial mounds and gives him a day to tell WWX on his own or LXC will do it, and LWJ only agrees because he intends to run away before WWX finds out why he's there @kokobabee

FOUND! Tumblr Fic by @jingyismom

~*~

14. Hello! I badly need help. I've been looking for this fic. I think it was like 5+1 or something where other people learn that Sizhui is Hanguangjun's son and that one time that Wei Wuxian did. I remember some of the 5+1 was a scene with a vendor, another scene with Ouyang-zongzhu in a nighthunt and I'm not sure if Jiang Wanyin was also one of them. But yeah, I've tried all keywords I could think of but I just can't find it. I hope you can help me. Thank you so much for all your efforts.

~*~

15. Hello I am looking for a fic where the world agrees to not kill Wei Ying if he marries and dual cultivates with someone and it's LWJ @calamityisalve

~*~

16. I am looking for a fic where wangxian invite the cultivation world to their wedding but wei wuxian and Lan shizui get badly hurt during the hunt before the wedding. The wedding is postponed and I think it had a scene where they fell down a waterfall? Please find it for me🙏

~*~

17. Hiiii!!!! I’m looking for a Twitter thread fic about a Warprize Lwj ABO Au where he became a consort to wen zhuliu? I think it was him, anyway, he gave birth a-yuan but a-yuan was actually Wwx son. I remember there was quote retweeted art of the thread fic where Wwx was standing over a-yuan’s cradle.

If you actually manage to find it a million thanks!!! @silent-taco

FOUND? Twitter thread by @cerbykerby, art by @hellinglaozu

FOUND? 🔒 Poison series by Cy_an_Blue, NiceElsa (E, 30k, wangxian, Gods & Goddesses, God WWX, God LY, A/B/O, Alpha WWX, Omega LY, Pre-Relationship wangxian, Implied/Referenced Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Bottom LWJ, Omega LWJ, Alpha LXC, Married WangXian with kids, Dark, War Prize LWJ, Forced Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Not by WangXian, Adultery, Cheating, Threats of Violence, Threats of Child Abuse/Murder, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Gore, Smut, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Endgame Wangxian, Post Mpreg, post pregnancy, Protective LQR, Gūsū Lán Elders Bashing)

~*~

18. Hello! I hope you can help me find this one, because I’m not having much luck; Wei Ying agrees to do what the sects want in exchange for the Lan sect taking in the Wen. He is basically imprisoned in the Unclean Realm and can’t practice demonic cultivation, and over time Nie Huaisand and Nie Mingjue start to warm up to him.

I think the one scene I remember most is a scene where Lan Huan asks Wei Ying if he can play for Nie Mingjue but Wei Ying says he can’t and admits that he has no golden core after making Lan Huan promise to keep it a secret. Hope this helps?

FOUND? Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi (T, 22k, WangXian, NHS & WWX, JYL & WWX, Depression, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Oblivious WWX, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Chronic Pain, Chronic Illness)

~*~

19. 你好! I've been looking for a fic with mute wei ying? (mute by choice, I believe). I cannot remember much, but I do remember that Wei Ying is exiled by the Gusu Lan clan, led by Lan Zhan himself. He's later called back to teach the juniors lessons on Demonic cultivation, where they found out after many years of choosing not to talk, he's kind of lost his voice. I don't know if you could find this fic, but it's been plaguing my brain for awhile now.

~*~

20. Hi! Searching for a fic where omegaxian is the assistant physician of Wen Qing and then Emperor (not sure if emperor or just a prince) Alphaji want him immediately as his consort. Wen qing and other people protested and told alphaji that omegaxian is not available because he is only a physician.

I remember it being a threadfic in X (twitter)

Thank you so much

~*~

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Okay but what if it turns out that Rouge's and Gambit's future child was kidnapped by one of their enemies and wasn't actually sent back to the future?

Ooooo... That's a good one! Let's see what we can do:

Having their child gone was one of the worst things in their lives.

They'd been rejected, had insane exes, dealt with Sentinels, and gone through betrayal and heartbreak. But losing their own child, their own future bébé... It was a new wound, one that kept bleeding no matter how many times they tried to close it.

Wolverine is the one who finds the evidence.

It's footprints, pressed into the dirt from boots, large... and squished next to it is smaller prints, impossibly small, that could only belong to one person...

"They took 'em..." Rogue says, and feels her chest fill with fear. Their child, HER baby, isn't even past age seven. Who would kidnap their child?

A deadman.

"C'mon, we're goin' after 'em!" she shouts.

"Oui, cher... No one takes our petit bébé."

"Well, I'm coming along, too. Someone needs to track 'em down," grunts Wolverine. Rogue and Gambit can tell he's just as worried about their child, who he's like an uncle to.

Tracking them down doesn't take longer than half a day. That's still half a day too long. Reader is a child, they're sweet, they're loving, and they don't deserve this to happen them. They should have been safe, sleeping back at the Institute, where they would have asked the two of them to make breakfast, while bluntly asking why they won't kiss...

Heh.

After this, they might do just that.

Seeing the way the other Southern mutant stays steady, the way they don't waver as they get closer to finding their future kid, knowing they'd do anything to keep them safe... Well. If they weren't attracted to them then, they sure are now.

When they find them, they see a group of armed men by a large truck. Their bèbè is being gripped tightly, their face scared.

"I don't care what the boss said, I say we sell the brat to highest bidder," argues one of the men.

"And the boss said they wanted them for themself. They think they're a kid of one of those X-Men," snorts the man squeezing Reader's arm.

"Well sh*t... That just means they're worth even more."

That sets the trio into motion.

Wolverine tears out, getting the men's attention on him, as Gambit and Rogue run over to where Reader was dropped. One man tried to get in their way, only to be met with a charged card to the face. (If there was any blood, they didn't care. If he still had a head, they didn't care. That b*stard wanted to hurt Reader, their petit, their bèbè, and that was unforgivable).

"HI, sugah," Rogue says carefully as she picks up Reader, who clings to her like a baby possum to its mama. "Are ya okay? Did they hurt ya?"

"Mama..." Reader sniffles, burying their head in her shoulder. Soft cries escape them, and all Rogue and Gambit can do is stroke their back, trying to calm them down.

"Shhh, mon petit bébé, Papa Gambit and Mama are here... It's 'kay..." Gambit tries. He's rewarded with a little hand wrapping around his finger, squeezing it tightly.

"Th-the-they wa-wanted to h-hu-u-urt me!" Reader wails, being hugged tighter between the two.

"Baby, why don't you stay with Gambit, okay, sweetheart? Mama needs to teach those mean men a lesson," coos Rogue, and Reader nods, switching their grip to Gambit and nuzzling him.

By the time Rogue is done with the armed men, they're within an inch of their lives, their energy drained to the point of unconsciousness. She can't help but spit on them, after what they've done. They aren't worth dirt, aren't worth her sympathy. They kidnapped and planned to harm a child. HER child. And they weren't walking away from it.

By the time she comes back, she makes sure to hide any stains that might show, not wanting to frighten Reader further. What she finds is them sleeping soundly against the swamp rat, who's holding them with the softest look in his eyes, gently carding his fingers through their hair.

"Did cher have fun?" he asks, glancing up at her for a moment.

"Hmph! Those bullies ain't gonna wake up for a month, if ever," she hisses out. She goes to take Reader, only to be pulled into a side-hug by Gambit.

"Cher... Gambit's thought 'bou' this... Gambit wants ta be with yaw... Do yaw want ta be wit' Gambit?"

"I do."

And just like that, they're a couple. The little one in their arms is who brought them together, and no matter what, they're gonna be by their side, every step of the way. If any monsters try to eat them, well, Mama can just eat their energy up so they can't come back. Not to mention Papa, who knows a few guild members who'd happily help out a fellow thief in need. Their bby is one of the best things to happen to them, and if anyone tries to hurt them, there will be h*ll to pay...

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 16, 2024

Signatures of cross-modal alignment in children’s early concepts. Aho, K., Roads, B. D., & Love, B. C. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(42), e2309688120.

Competing neural representations of choice shape evidence accumulation in humans. Bond, K., Rasero, J., Madan, R., Bahuguna, J., Rubin, J., & Verstynen, T. (2023). eLife, 12, e85223.

Initial conditions combine with sensory evidence to induce decision-related dynamics in premotor cortex. Boucher, P. O., Wang, T., Carceroni, L., Kane, G., Shenoy, K. V., & Chandrasekaran, C. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6510.

A large-scale neurocomputational model of spatial cognition integrating memory with vision. Burkhardt, M., Bergelt, J., Gönner, L., Dinkelbach, H. Ü., Beuth, F., Schwarz, A., … Hamker, F. H. (2023). Neural Networks, 167, 473–488.

Human thalamic low-frequency oscillations correlate with expected value and outcomes during reinforcement learning. Collomb-Clerc, A., Gueguen, M. C. M., Minotti, L., Kahane, P., Navarro, V., Bartolomei, F., … Bastin, J. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6534.

Large-scale recording of neuronal activity in freely-moving mice at cellular resolution. Das, A., Holden, S., Borovicka, J., Icardi, J., O’Niel, A., Chaklai, A., … Dana, H. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6399.

Top-down control of exogenous attentional selection is mediated by beta coherence in prefrontal cortex. Dubey, A., Markowitz, D. A., & Pesaran, B. (2023). Neuron, 111(20), 3321-3334.e5.

The priming effect of rewarding brain stimulation in rats depends on both the cost and strength of reward but survives blockade of D2‐like dopamine receptors. Evangelista, C., Mehrez, N., Boisvert, E. E., Brake, W. G., & Shizgal, P. (2023). European Journal of Neuroscience, 58(8), 3751–3784.

Different roles of response covariability and its attentional modulation in the sensory cortex and posterior parietal cortex. Jiang, Y., He, S., & Zhang, J. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(42), e2216942120.

Input-specific synaptic depression shapes temporal integration in mouse visual cortex. Li, J. Y., & Glickfeld, L. L. (2023). Neuron, 111(20), 3255-3269.e6.

Dynamic emotional states shape the episodic structure of memory. McClay, M., Sachs, M. E., & Clewett, D. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6533.

Trajectories through semantic spaces in schizophrenia and the relationship to ripple bursts. Nour, M. M., McNamee, D. C., Liu, Y., & Dolan, R. J. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(42), e2305290120.

Contribution of dorsal versus ventral hippocampus to the hierarchical modulation of goal‐directed actions in rats. Piquet, R., Faugère, A., & Parkes, S. L. (2023). European Journal of Neuroscience, 58(8), 3737–3750.

Neural dynamics underlying successful auditory short‐term memory performance. Pomper, U., Curetti, L. Z., & Chait, M. (2023). European Journal of Neuroscience, 58(8), 3859–3878.

Temporal disparity of action potentials triggered in axon initial segments and distal axons in the neocortex. Rózsa, M., Tóth, M., Oláh, G., Baka, J., Lákovics, R., Barzó, P., & Tamás, G. (2023). Science Advances, 9(41).

Working memory and attention in choice. Rustichini, A., Domenech, P., Civai, C., & DeYoung, C. G. (2023). PLOS ONE, 18(10), e0284127.

Acting on belief functions. Smith, N. J. J. (2023). Theory and Decision, 95(4), 575–621.

Thalamic nucleus reuniens coordinates prefrontal-hippocampal synchrony to suppress extinguished fear. Totty, M. S., Tuna, T., Ramanathan, K. R., Jin, J., Peters, S. E., & Maren, S. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 6565.

Single basolateral amygdala neurons in macaques exhibit distinct connectional motifs with frontal cortex. Zeisler, Z. R., London, L., Janssen, W. G., Fredericks, J. M., Elorette, C., Fujimoto, A., … Rudebeck, P. H. (2023). Neuron, 111(20), 3307-3320.e5.

Predicting the attention of others. Ziman, K., Kimmel, S. C., Farrell, K. T., & Graziano, M. S. A. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(42), e2307584120.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(FE: Engage) Alear / Crossover Emblem Rings

Honestly, I couldn't really think of anything unique for a reverse situation, so instead, I raise you Alear meeting even more crossovers, cause apparently I can never escape my insatiable hunger for mixing games/show together.

Hope you enjoy, @unknownsymbol367!

Awakening:

(Vander) "Hm. I have never heard of this Emblem, but perhaps we should go ahead with the incantation?"

Alear nodded.

(Alear) "May all your blessings find their way their way to us, Emblem of the Witch!"

From the ring burst forward a giant being of steel, alongside a small red haired girl. She began to panic as her arms flailed in a pattern.

(Suletta) "I-IT CAN FLY! IT CAN DANCE! AERIAL!"

She froze in a pose with arms outstretched, clearly panting and showing signs that she was about to fall over. Which was impressive, given she was just a manifestation and not a physical being.

(Alear) "..."

(Vander) "..."

(Suletta) "..."

Alear and Vander stared at the girl silently, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

(Alear) "...M-My name is Alear, and this is Vander. We require your help miss...Aerial?"

(Suletta) "U-U-Um...! Aerial is my sister. M-M-My name is S-Suletta!"

(Vander) "Are you alright? You seem to be sweating a concerning amount."

Alear rose her eyebrow in confusion, silently whispering to the side.

(Alear) "...Marth, are you able to sweat?"

(Marth) "No, we're not...Just a moment."

Marth floated over to Suletta, which she recoiled at the sight of him suddenly materializing in front of them. However, the steel giant known as "Aerial" seemed to have its eyes glow in response.

(Marth) "I am Emblem Marth, we are on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon. May we count on both of you?"

Suletta looked incredibly nervous before looking at Aerial, whose eyes flashed again. Though no one heard any noise come from the being, Suletta suddenly had a determined expression.

(Suletta) "Right, if I run, I gain one. Move forward, and gain two!"

(Alear) "Hah, I think I quite like that saying. We're lucky to have you!"

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Suletta) "I heard your mother was a wonderful person. I-I'm really sorry to hear what happened..."

(Alear) "Thank you, Suletta. I'm glad you still have your mother, and your sister to support you."

...

(Alear) "Suletta, I swear I'm hearing someone else talk to me whenever it's just us..."

(Suletta) "Hm? Oh, that's just Aerial saying hello! She's louder on some days more than others."

===

Clanne

(Suletta) "W-wow! You're so young! Reminds me of Chuchu..."

(Clanne) "From what I've heard of your friend, I don't want to make her angry...!"

...

(Clanne) "You say you pilot Aerial? That must take an incredible strain on your body."

(Suletta) "I've never really noticed a physical strain on myself with Aerial before. I-Is that normal? T-There's nothing wrong with me r-right?!"

===

Chloé

(Chloé) "You always seem so cheerful when having lunch with us, Suletta. I only wish we could let you have some of the local cuisine as well!"

(Suletta) "T-Thank you for the offer miss Chloé, b-but I must decline! Grilled rat seems..." shudders

===

Rosado

(Rosado) "Aerial looks absolutely adorable! But, I think she could use a few more ribbons on her. What do you say, Suletta?"

(Suletta) "Adorable? I don't think I've heard anyone call her that. Maybe we can spruce the cockpit up? I'm afraid the ribbons might get burnt up by the beams or the thrusters..."

===

Lucina

(Lucina) "Hah, looking at you talk to Aerial reminds me of my own family."

(Suletta) "Do you think my mom can meet yours? I'm sure she'd love to meet them!"

===

Victory Quotes:

"It can fly, it can dance! Aerial!"

"Move forward, gain two!"

"The only result is the truth!"

Awakening:

Alear, Marth and Vander looked at the ring with growing concern. What kind of ring to help defeat the Fell Dragon would be called the "Emblem of Calamity"? And the incantation didn't help put aside fears either.

Alear sighed before he nodded. It's better they have it than the enemy.

(Alear) "Devour our foes, Emblem of Calamity!"

A long black haired woman emerged from the ring, clothes and cape visibly torn as she stoically turned towards the group.

(Velvet) "...Who are you supposed to be?"

(Alear) "My name is Alear. We're on a mission to defeat the Fell Dragon, thus we have summoned you."

(Velvet) "You know my title and you still chose to summon me? You're clearly desperate."

(Vander) "You will not address the Divine One that way!"

Velvet's eyes glanced over to Vander, visibly getting more annoyed.

(Velvet) "If you want my help, then suck it up. Or should I eat you too?"

(Marth) "We can all be friends, Miss Velvet."

(Velvet) "I'm not here to make friends. I just want one person in my world dead...Alear, right? What is your plan for the world once this Fell Dragon is gone?"

(Alear) "To work towards a brighter future?"

(Velvet) "Not dictated by reason?"

(Alear) "Dictated by...? N-No. Peace."

(Velvet) "...I suppose that'll do for now. Let's get moving."

(Alear) "Thank you, Velvet."

===

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "You put up such a harsh exterior, but you're quite kind! I've seen how you speak with Jean and Clan-"

(Velvet) "Tch, I have no idea what you're talking about. Spread any rumours like that, and I won't hesitate to eat you."

...

(Velvet) "I appreciate that you clean your own room despite having servants. Not a half bad job of keeping it tidy, either."

(Alear) "It just never felt right to me, letting someone else do all the work...Y-You're glaring at my bed pretty badly there. Is something wrong?"

(Velvet) "Who ironed your bed? It's covered in wrinkles! You need to properly-..."

(Alear) "Hah, Velvet, it's all right!...V-Velvet? Wow, she's still going on about the proper technique..."

...

Jean

(Jean) "ACK! H-Hi, Velvet...D-Did I do something wrong? You're staring at me."

(Velvet) "...Nothing. Sorry."

===

Alcryst

(Velvet) "I'm only gonna say this once. Knock it off with that self deprecating crap and you mean the world to your brother."

(Alcryst) "H-Huh? But-"

(Velvet) "Shut up and let me finish. In a war like this, you don't know what will happen. So cherish the time you have with him, and remember he'd never forgive himself if you get yourself killed."

(Alcryst) "...R-Right." ...Why did she look so sad saying that?

===

Louis

(Velvet) "...Watch where your eyes wander, Louis, or else I'll gouge them out."

(Louis) "Oh, apologies if I have offended you, Velvet! I was merely observing the way you speak to others."

(Velvet) "Tch, even Phi has more tact than you..."

===

Kagetsu

(Kagetsu) "Ah, thank you for the sparring, Velvet! It was quite the thrill to finally fight you!"

(Velvet) "Hmph. You remind me of someone back home..."

===

Goldmary

(Goldmary) "Have you no shame, Velvet? I must acquire you a new set of clothes this instant! With my taste, you'll be wowing men in no ti-"

(Velvet) "Touch my clothes, and I'll eat you."

===

Bunet

(Bunet) "Why, your recipe has come out spectactularly! How did you acquire such skills?!"

(Velvet) "Heh, I learned from my sister, who learned it from my mother. All of our cooking is passed down. Too bad I can't cook it myself...Not that I could taste it anyway."

===

Victory Quotes:

"No mercy!"

"Show's over."

"Is that all? That was barely a fight."

Awakening:

Alear felt a burning rage from within the ring just holding it. Whoever was inside would make a strong ally indeed.

(Alear) "Receive us, O Emblem of the Dragon!"

A man in a gray suit slowly rose from the ring, turning and cracking his knuckles.

(Kiryu) "My name is Kiryu Kazuma."

(Alear) "Kiryu, it's nice to meet you. I'm Alear, we need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

Kiryu nodded and stepped forward.

(Kiryu) "There's room for only one dragon in this world."

Alear awkwardly coughed as Vander and Marth smiled. Straightforward, but he was at least easy to work with.

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "Your fighting style is incredible, Kiryu! Do you think you can teach me some of your moves?"

(Kiryu) "I'm no teacher. And your fighting isn't something to sell short either."

...

(Kiryu) "So, you're a real dragon?"

(Alear) "That I am...Well, rather I'm told that. The Divine Dragon, specifically but honestly? I don't feel that different."

(Kiryu) "I see..." (How did I even get to this point in my life...?)

===

Etie

(Etie) "WOAH! Your muscles are so dang ripped! You gotta tell me your workout regime!"

(Kiryu) "I've never had a woman ask me that before...Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, considering our circumstances..."

===

Alfred

(Kiryu) "Why do you keep staring at my arms?"

(Alfred) "Huh? Oh! S-Sorry, your biceps are massive! Can I feel them?"

(Kiryu) "That certainly explains Etie..."

===

Jade

(Jade) "Kiryu, may I trouble you for your experiences in the...How do you say, yah-koo-zuh?"

(Kiryu) "There's nothing funny about the life we lead. It only leads to misery, so I'm afraid I can't help you with your ideas."

===

Anna

(Anna) "You just throw your money out to distract people?! Talk about a waste!"

(Kiryu) "Aren't you a little young to be worrying about that kind of thing?"

===

Pandreo

(Pandreo) "Holy smokes, Kiryu! You got a KILLER singing voice!"

(Kiryu) "Heh, I've been told I have a passion for karaoke. I doubt anyone understood what I was saying, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

===

Byleth

(Byleth) "People keep telling me I have a hard to read face."

(Kiryu) "Hm, I do as well. I'm not exactly sure how to change that..."

===

Victory Quotes:

"Want to die? THEN STEP UP!"

"That's rad."

"Kakatte koi!"

Awakening:

(Alear) "Accept our mission, Emblem of the Soldier!"

Electricity shot out of the ring, as a man slowly stood up from all fours, bandana flowing in the wind.

(Snake) "This is Snake. Kept you waiting, huh?"

(Alear) "I'm Alear. We need your help in defeating the Fell Dragon."

(Snake) "Any backup?"

(Alear) "Plenty. You have me, and the rest of the army at your side!"

Snake looked to Alear, Marth, and Vander.

(Snake) "An army, huh? Not used to fighting in a unit this big. But, sounds fine to me. What's my first mission, Colonel?"

Supports:

===

Alear

(Alear) "If I may ask, why exactly do you call me Colonel?"

(Snake) "Feels more comfortable than me calling someone "Divine One" all the time. Besides, you don't like that title much either, right?"

(Alear) "Hah, fair point."

...

(Alear) "You want me to do what in that box?"

(Snake) "Sit inside it and hide. It works a lot better than you think it does."

===

Framme

(Snake) "You know, you remind me a lot of a girl I know named Sunny. She's just as positive as you."

(Framme) "I'll take that as a compliment, mister Snake!"

Lapis

(Snake) "You make your own gear on the field? Impressive."

(Lapis) "Oh, I doubt it's as impressive as anything you'd make, Snake. Mine are just little knick knacks and things to make life a little more convenient."

Yunaka

(Yunaka) "Wow, you're a lot deadlier than you look."

(Snake) "Could say the same to you, Yunaka. You're smart to hide that fact...Even if it is a little obvious."

Zelkov

(Zelkov) "Snake, you are quite the enigma of a man."

(Snake) "Can't say I have a straightforward past. I can probably guess the same for you." ...Why is he speaking like that?

Fogado

(Fogado) "So, you say you don't believe in the supernatural when you see monsters rising up and us using magic?"

(Snake) "In my world, I don't. Here, I can understand the magic at least, so that means I can fight it."

===

Victory Quotes:

"This is Snake, I'm done here."

"Mission accomplished."

"Showtime!"

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

HC TIMEEE

remus really wants a mouse, he’d name it cathoolu, but Virgil HATES mice…

So they get a raccoon and non it cathoolu

- Vee 💜

Hell Y E S HC TIME!!! Not gonna lie them naming a Raccoon Cthulhu is pretty on brand for Ree and I love that XD B U T hear me out Vee being hesitant on Ree owning Rats, Mice, etc. not because he hates them but because of the fact that he doesn't know if Ree is responsible enough for them. The emo just wants to eat his food in peace not have a surprise visit from their little rodent child or the little one getting lost somewhere so he starts off slow by letting them raise a Raccoon first and if Ree proves himself then they can get more rodent children

[kirshimadenkisero]

things my friends have said, a collection (ft a couple quotes from shows/games) ((credits to my best friend for compiling them for me))

for privacy reasons i’ve censored the names

“Haha suck it (random name)!” (not entirely sure where this one came from so i’m guessing they’re talking about someone they know??)

“Smells like sour cream depression”

“I’m busy being gay”

“Birbs get bitches”

“Yes. I kill joe Biden”

“You simply have less value”

“You are a coffee bean”

“I will go full frog mode on your bitchass-“

“I don’t know how to eat abbles-“

(PS: he was eating a fukin pear 😀)

“WAIT- GERMAN SHEPHERDS ARE GERMAN?!”

(offers grapes) “Sure, as long as they aren’t grape flavored”

“I’m a bitch and I’m a stitch”

“My brother is immune to getting r a n o v e r b y c a r s . . .”

“He now look like a wet rat and smell like cucumber”

“Tao Su looks like British Justin Bieber”

“#LockedUpForLife”

“He put his heart and soul into that dance”

“DO I HEAR A FUCKING MICROWAVE???”

“merry birthing”

“You stole kids candy, prepare to meet Jesus”

“Material gworl💅✨🏳️‍🌈”

“I bet it was the Shrek DVD…”

“I now know what I’m gonna get you for Christmas… t h e r a p y”

“the lake is thirsty…”

“IS STEVEN JESUS?!?!”

“where did his child go???”

“You are a spineless pretzel-“

“ŠTÄÇŸ MØVË!!!”

“Hey is that plane outside my window getting bigger???”

“Kneecaps gone. Insurance? Gieco.”

“Hippty Hoppity, get off my property”

“Are you getting your clothes from the back of Spencer’s??”

“My second wish would be a Mary Poppins bag full of fresh garlic bread”

“THERE COULD ONLY BE ONE!!”

“Mice and vanilla deer fries”

“DONALD DUCK IS THAT YOU?!!?!”

“Was that a deer??”

“Steve what are you doing here?? WHY ARE YOU IN MY LUNCHBOX-“

“I’m here to sell your kidneys”

“I ŁÏVĘ ĪÑ THË WÆTĖR!”

“Excuse me. That’s my front lawn you’re talking to.”

“I DONT KNOW I CANT COUNT 🥲”

“Why don’t I have no fingers…. (friend), did you steal my fingers again???”

“That notification sound sounded delicious. Absolutely exquisite 🤌🏽”

“Is water wet???”

“Water is crazy, you can boil in it, you can drown in it, yet we need it to survive”

“That just sounded like my sisters spine at 3:00AM 💀”

“THERES POISONOUS SKUNKS. THEY’RE MULTIPLYING AAAAAAAA”

“It’s supposed to be hot cocoa but it’s looks

s u s s y-“

“2020 part 4”

“YUO MAMMA’D YOUR LAST MIA”

“Bestie, I love you but calm down about the raisins 😀”

“I'm not alive🧍🏻‍♀️”

“Bro got sent to the shadow realm-“

“Quickly, hide the stock before the landlord finds us!!”

“Make the taxidermy dance...”

“Philza, you haven’t been collecting my wood have you?”

“ITS PHILZA MINECRAFT!! HES IN MY MINECRAFT SERVER!!!”

“I DONT KNOW, GRAB A BROWNIE OR SOMETHING.”

“What the fuck is a Spinosaurus, a dinosaur with a spine???”

“Oh, it’s weed boy”

“Hippity hops, ima call the cops 😀”

“Be right back, gotta go walk my fish-“

“WHY IS THE DOOR WALKING??”

“I gotta go fold the dishes”

“You just haven’t mastered the spoon yet”

“He wouldn’t know, he’s a pencil 😄”

“Do you see the screen? Are you sure you aren’t deaf-“

“That wasn’t powder on that donut…”

“NAPOLEON III IS A PATHETIC IDIOT WHO GETS NO BITCHES”

“My sister just brought me a penguin, and it threw up crayons”

“He’s a closeted American”

“You ain’t scared of the ocean until you see a t-posing squid”

“Ah women”

“Did Youtube find out I was religious???”

“Where’s my 15% off you rip off midget dinosaur”

“It would be funny if he choked and died” (i would like to mention this was said by my friend’s teacher)

“Don’t come to the circus tomorrow Ragatha”

“No, you aren’t a loser, you’re just colorblind”

“BOMBBB-“

“Call me a triple A battery, cause I have Anxiety, ADHD, and Autism!!”

“Bro became a vacuum cleaner 😭”

“I HATE SPLASH MOUNTAINNN!1!1!!!1!!”

“Fuck it, we ball 🏀”

“IF I RUN FAST ENOUGH, THE VOICES CANT CATCH UP”

“RED ENVELOPE FROM GRANDMA!?!? THAT MEANS MONEY!!!”

“It’s called neighbors, we are allowed to have them”

“So what. He can eat spaghetti out of his eyes”

“she wishes a broken leg upon you”

“Me and my crayons can do this shit anymore”

“Swaggy animal cruelty”

“I will temporarily sue you and your family”

“Yeehaw that motherfucker”

“Oh wow, I just killed two people”

“Whitey Kitey is MAD”

“So imagine me trying to break human skin 🥰”

“John Doe is a he/him lesbian”

“He got them string cheese bangs”

“Alas, for this is an example of the pain I must go through with this curse of immortality. Though I may never have my final breath, the price is eternal suffering”

“Cause they’ll think you’re all German Nazis who are trying to do a poison delivery”

“His birthday is on April 1st. His birthday is a joke”

“I WILL BURN YOUR COOPERATION INTO THE GROUND IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO”

“IM GOING TO SKIN THE OWNER OF RITZ ALIVE”

“A woman, in her late thirties, wearing a school issued swimsuit. Worst of all, she was rocking it” - Rae Taylor

“Isn’t your life already crumbling apart”

“ITS A FORBIDDEN MIXTURE”

“IM ON THE PODIUMMMMM”

“WHAT IS THIS. I DONT SPEAK BAGUETTE”

“Peaceful yuri in the wild”

“Buddy, I’m in normal math. Compact math people are CRACKED-“

“I CAN SEE THE AUTISM IN HIS EYES”

“Bro looks both ways when he crosses the street unwillingly”

“I don’t care when you deliver them to me. Expiration dates don’t matter to me-“

“Friendship levels?? More like Yuri levels.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING PRAY CEO OF MAX”

“Okay I admit it. I’m guilty of slave ownership”

“She sounds like a starving Victorian child 😭”

“Now go adventurer, and have this. A gun.”

“I will paper cut your eyes in your sleep”

“THEN IM GOING FOR THAT BITCHASS WHORE AUTOCORRECT”

“HER PANTS WOULD BE ON FIRE RIGHT NOWW”

“I just want to have a friendly conversation with him, me, and my gun”

“IM GONNA TURN THE OWNER OF CHICK-FIL-A INTO ROASTED CHICKEN”

“DUDE HES GOING THROUGH A MENTAL BREAKDOWN AND YOURE TALKING ABOUT TACOS”

“DAMNNIT BUBBLE I TOLD YOU THAT INVADING IRAQ WAS A BAD IDEA”

“If my dog doesn’t shut the fuck up after three strikes I will yell at her in less passive and more aggressive German.”

“Buenos días fuckboy”

“Wow, (friends name)-censorship”

“ITS NOT A PHASE MOM, BEING AN ORANGE EMO TRACK RUNNER IS MY PERSONALITY!!!!!!!1!1!1!1!”

“Oh my days, my Cheeto is turning into a cheese puff”

“I love my emo son”

“Listen, I’m not gay. That’s only on Thursdays”

“I just went up there for a bandaid and I got her toes?!!?!!”

“What did he do to deserve becoming a pretzel berry”

“I HATE YOU DREDNAW. YOU WILL BECOME AN ORPHAN ON THE STREETS”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he burned down a convenience store, but yeah he’s nice”

“No, it’s only a very late abortion”

“THIS IS WHY GIRLS RULE AND BOYS DROOL”

“God damn it’s genetic 😨”

“It’s crustier than William Afton”

“Well, I’m gonna die anyway but red would be pretty cool”

“Not a gram of hetero blood in their veins”

“Oh the law? That’s not a thing”

“POLLINATE MY BROTHER IN HONEY”

“Do I look like I speak Beepanese?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not even legally allowed to have this-“

“He looks like if god sniffed a line of coke and then tried to recreate Squirtle from memory” (talking about chewtle)

[c-40]

A-T-3 328 Euro-rap (Pt.1)

There's been the odd rap records coming out of Europe for a year or two by 1983, most notable mentions are Malcom McLaren's Buffalo Gals and Captain Sensible's Wot (you might even call The Flying Lizards' Money early euro-rap, that's 1979 and would be considered controversial!) It may have been the success of Captain Sensible's Wot that led to flood of parody rap records, Kenny Everett puts out Snot Rap (feat Cupid Stunt, how did he get away with that?) and Roland Rat put out Rat Rapping both in 1983 and Alexi Sayle's 'Ullo John! Gotta New Motor? gets a re-issue hitting the charts in 1984

Parody is a feature of Euro-rap, Chicesque backing tracks, funny scratching-like synth sounds. There's also plenty Italo disco with a rap, like R.A.F.'s Self Control. I was hoping to share K/mh - “C-Club” Rap on Klaus Schulze's Innovative Communication but the youTube has been taken down

Before I get to the synthetic stuff here is a selection that begins with rap coming from UK lovers, Brit-funk and the foundations of street soul

Frequency – Bills UK rap with the rappers on the a-side trying to sound like an American crew. Where else in the world would you hear a mix of funk and nyabinghi drumming other than the UK? (you might here it NY, Miami, or Toronto maybe)

Fumme - Only You (Make It Right) from the UK co-produced by Mark Lusardi who worked with Adrian Sherwood and On-U Sound

Yankee Jones - Foxy Lady (Rapping) don't know much about this apart from it came out in the UK and is pretty nice rapping over the Hot Shots playing a version of Fatback Band's 1983 classic I Found Loving. It's a brit pretending to sound American, innit?

Frequency – Bills (at the top) is an early version of Supa-Rap Featuring T.C. Anderson - Bills which has a cleaner i-Level type jazz-funk production, the instrumental is called Dionne's Theme

On the subject of UK Jazz-Funk, Funk Masters of Love Money fame release Caveman Rock by Junior Gee with Funk Masters - Scratch The Rock on the b-side

Julius Green - Havent We Learned Julius Green is an American singer formally of the legendary Memphis soul harmony group The Mad Lads, this oddity comes out of the Netherlands

Ricky & The Mutations - Thatcher Rap this is actually a credible conscious track, the instrumental on the b-side is great

[desolateddreamur]

A-Z fluff Headcanons with Butters!

General neutral reader!

Requested? No!

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about you?

Literally everything.

B = Baby:do they want a family? why/why not?

Not really. Butters is really nervous that he'll end up being like his dad as a parent.

C = Cuddle:how do they cuddle?

He's a little spoon and loves to be picked up or curled up on your lap.

D = Dates:what are dates with them like?

They're cliche in a cute way! Stargazing on a hill, picnics, or a romantic walk in the forest!

E = Everything: you are their ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

You are his lifeline.

F = Feelings:when did they know they were falling in love?

Almost immediately!

G = Gentle:are they gentle? If so, how?

Very gentle, he's the sweetest and worries so much about you and your safety!

H = Hand: Hold how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

He's shy about holding hands so he usually just links pinkies.

I = Impression: first impression/s

"W-Wow... Gee, they're so pretty... I need to say hi!"

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

Not really. If he does he'll get grounded.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

He's way too shy to initiate a kiss on the lips so he'll kiss your cheeks and forehead.

L = Little things: what little things do they love/notice?

He loves how you constantly compliment him even when you don't realize the statement you used is one.

M = Memory: their favorite moment of you two?

The first time you kissed him (even though it was only on the cheek)

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy you everything?

He can't do that, but he tries! Almost every time he goes to the store he comes back and gives you whatever he found that reminded him of you!

O = Orange: what color reminds them of you?

Yellow!

P = Petnames: what petnames do they use?

Dear, Love, Honey most of the time but he uses anything on the spot even if it's dorky.

Q = Questions: what are the questions they’re always asking?

"Do you like it?" "How did I get so lucky?"

R = Remember: their favorite memory of you

The first time you fell asleep together as a couple. He felt so ecstatic waking up to see your sleeping face!

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/you up

Cuddles and movies!

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

He loves when you listen to him rambling about his plans as Professor Chaos.

U = Universe: use a metaphor, what are you to them? (e.g he was the universe, ever-changing and mysterious)

You are his guiding light.

V = Very: ___ they’re thoughts about you (e.g she’s very smart, he’s very stubborn, they’re very annoying etc.)

Very adorable!

W = Why: reasons why they love you

You never make fun of him for his interests and don't take advantage of his kindness.

X = Xylophone: What’s their song?

Mirror Man by Jack Stauber.

Y = You: the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You're the Roxanne to his Megamind.

Z = Zebra:if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

Hamsters and rats are his ideal pets! He loves hamsters since they're so cute and fluffy and he loves rats from just how genius they are! The perfect minions!

[sparkedblaze]

Hi here's all my favorite things about Livesies as I watch it

92sies

This is fsfs gonna be part 1 of 2 or 3

T/W violence, cursing, ets

The Overture. It plays all these semi-familiar tunes from 92sies with a little funky freshness to it and I love it sm

THE FUCKING PROJECTIONS AHAHHHHH

CRUTCHIE BEING THE ONLY OTHER NEWSIE (BESIDES ALBERT) WITH A BACKWARDS HAT

"I ain't been walkin' so good" 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

"Doyawannabustyaothalegtoo?!" "Uh.. no I wanna go down."

"Ya seein' stars alright."

Their accents and over acting are amazing

A big life in a small town SUCKS Jackson Kelly

Heh heh

*waves hand in front of Crutchie's eyes*

CRUTCHIE ACTUALLY CLOSING HIS EYES AND HIS LIL SMILE WHILE HE'S IMAGINING SANTA FE

DID I MENTION THE PROJECTIONS

yA RIDe it inStyLE FEACHA ME RIDIN IN STILE

"WORK THE LAND CHASE THE SUN SWIM THE W H O L E R I O G R A N D E JUST FOR FUUUUN"

"WATCH ME STAND😄 Watch me run 😀 🙁"

"hey HEY"

THE IDEA THAT THE PROLOGUE IS ACTUALLY A PROLOGUE I THINK IT'S @raggedy-albert 'S HC

RACETRACK MOTHERFUCKING HIGGINS

ALBERT FUCKING DASILVA

"A leg of lamb 🥰"

R A L B E R T

FINCH

BEN COOK SKY FLAHERTY IAIN YOUNG JOSH BURRAGE

MUSH'S HOP LOOKING FOR HIS HAT

MIKE AND IKE TRADING HATS

CRUTCHIE SHINING HIS CRUTCH

BUTTONS' HAND MOVEMENT ON 'FISHES'

JACK NUDGING SMALLS ON 'FISHES'

IAIN YOUNG'S LIL RAT BOY FACE

'Step aside Romeo nothin more concerns u here'

Poisonally

Kath's sass

Darcy pretending he's straight

"I'M CRUSHED"

"Gonna rain?" "Uuuuhhhhhh..... No rain oh-ho partlycloudyclearbyevenin"

"BLIND" "AND MUTE" "AND DEAD"

Jack taking Finch's slingshot

Flip

Tommy's lil hops

"I LIKES LIVIN CHANCEY"

ELMER AND BUTTONS TAKING OFF THEIR HATS WHEN THE NUNS SHOW UP

"I dunno Sister, but it's bound to rain soon'a o' lat'a!"😃

BEN COOK

ANTHONY ZAS

NICK MASSON

JOSH BURRAGE

SKY FLAHERTY

IAIN YOUNG

CHAZ WOLCOTT

AND ALL THE OTHERS WHO I DON'T REMEMBER THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS

Everyone hopping to give their cups back

"I DO TOOOOO SO IT MUST ME TRUUUUUE WHAT A SWITCH, SOON WE'LL ALL BE RICH DON'T KNOW A BETTER WAY TO MAKE A NEWSIES DAYYY"

Their entire lil dancey dance right here

Elmer offended at being whacked with hat

"GOTAFEELINBOUTAHEADLINEISMELLSMEAHEADLINEPAPESAREGONNASELLLIKEWEWASGIVINEMAWAYBETCHADINNERITSADOOZYBOUTAPISTOLPACKINFLOOZYDONTKNOWANYBETTERWAYTOMAKEANEWSIESDAYIWASSTAKINOUTTHECIRCUSANDTHENSOMEONESAIDTHATCONEYSREALLYHOTBUTWHENIGOTTHERETHEREWASSPOTWITHALLHISCRONIESYOIMGONNATAKEWHATLITTLEDOUGHIGOTANDPLAYTHEPONIESWEATLEASTDESERVESAHEADLINEFORTHEHOURSTHATTHEYWORKUSJEEZIBETIFIJUSTSTAYEDALITTLELONGERATTHECIRCUS"

Finch finger guns

Jack taking Finch's hat

Smalls diving under Finch's leg

Finch's face right before they say 'yeah!'

Whatever Al's face is doing ever

*disappointment*

Romeo waving like the little bean he is

"WATCH IT"

"It's honest woik"

"AINCHA FADDA ONE O THA STRIKAS"

Albert and Racer

Ralbert

Whack whack

The Delanceys running into each other

Morris hopping from steps

Everyone getting their bags

ALBERT PUT YOUR FUCKING HAT ON

Big smiles everyone, we just finished the first big number Race: :O

Davey trying to slow Les

"I'll call ya sweetheart if you spot me 50 papes"

"I'M NEW TOO"

Albert, to Jojo: Yo check this shit out. Watch what I'm about to do to this bitch "YOU HAVE A VERRRRY INTERESTING FACE. EVER THOUGHT ABOUT GETTIN' INTO MOVIN' PITCHAS?!"

"BUY A TICKET THEY LET ANYONE IN"

*Does not pay*

Everyone's face when they laugh at Jack making fun of Oscar

"The faymus Jack Kelly"

Ben Cook's dumbass socks

Jack's "holy fuck he can do math" face

Specs laughing at Jack's reaction to Les knowing math

"That's disgusting"

W i b b l e

Specs never using stairs properly

Albert riding in on Pulitzer's desk

FOOTBALL? *whack* VIOLENT? *whack*

"Guess what? He got elected." *runs*

Nunzio.

My roommate and I accidentally mashing cut and slit like twice and so now we say slut instead of either

"-like an army that's marching to war." I mean... He wasn't wrong

Has anyone noticed how similar Hannah and Kath look?

BIG STEP BIG STEP BIG STEP

"buy a pape from a poor orphan boy" *cough cough*

"BORN TO THE BREED"

"THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN SCHOOL" "This kid"

Racetrack hawkin in the background and bolting when Snyder comes

"Doesn't everyone?"

ALL THE CONTINUITY ERRORS IN MEDDA'S THEATER. THE BOYS GOING FROM NEWSIES TO FAKE MUSTACHE MEN AND BACK

LOVEY DOVEY BABY PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND

Jack saying pocket with the same intensity that Draco Malfoy says Potter

MEDDA FUCKING LARKIN

"The only thing I own is the mortgage"

"ARE YOU BLIND SHE GOT NO CLOTHES ON"

The look Jack and Davey share when Medda says she knows the governor

"YOU PICTURED THAT?!"

"Take it easy, it's a bunch of trees."

"Jeez! I never knew no one with a aptitude!"

"I AM?! HOW 'M I DOIN'?!"

'I'm better than you' the song

Jack's lil figure 8 dance with just his head

"And prayers from the Pope"

Devin Lewis as Jack for like two scenes.

"AND. MY. BANK."

Watching Jack recognize Katherine

"Why don't you go find out?" 👀

"You want I should lock the door"

"Doin what?"

It's hard to like a whole lot about the scenes where they're flirting bc Kath is so outwardly uncomfy with it

And also they're both simps for Jacobses

*two finger point*

"sOrry mIss mEddA"

Jack's hesitation before he starts singing

"Girls are nice, once or twice, til I find someone new" You bisexual pining bitch

Does anyone know who does the actual sketch?

T H E P R O J E C T I O N

"-and you lie like a rug!"

"What are you doing?!"

"Hey-hey quiet down there's a show goin' on!"

"Shhhhhhhhh"

"Everr"

HAT TIP AND SMIRK AS JACK IS CLIMBING DOWN

MIKE AND IKE GIVING OFF THE MAJOREST SIBLING EVERGY

"Sirens is like lullabies to me."

DELANCEY DEVASTATION AT "they've got a mother" THEY'RE SO TRASH AND HURT I LOVE THEM

"He traded her for a box o' cigars!" "HEY THEY WAS CORONAS"

"Ain't we the hoi polloi!"

"Ask me after they put up the headline"

"Is that news?" "ITISTOME"

Romeo. R O M E O

"I ain't payin' no sixty."

DEUS SPECS MACHINA

BAMBAM "C'mere fellas"

Henry's pose as he says "AIN'T WE GOT NO RIGHTS?!"

IK THAT EVERYONE SAYS TOMMY LOOKS DOWN BC HE'S CONFUSED WHEN JACK SAYS 'WOULD YOU KEEP YOUR SHIRT ON' BC HE'S WEARING A SHIRT YADDA YADDA BUT HE'S NOT THAT'S HIS UNDERSHIRT. SO HE'S CONFUSED BC HIS SHIRT IS ALREADY OFF. BACK IN THOSE TIMES BEING IN JUST YOUR UNDERSHIRT, YOU MAY AS WELL HAVE NO SHIRT. THX FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

LES SHOVING PEOPLE

Crutchie desperately trying to hop to keep up

Jojo and Elmer.

"Hey Jack you still thinkin?" "Sure he is. Can't ya smell smoke?"

(I'm out of character limits so this is part 1)

[savvythepirate]

You requested something to read, so I thought I’d share this little abomination that I wrote. I’ll be posting it on my page as well.

“I’ll stab you with my trouser sword and plunder your booty, yo-ho!” You sang loudly as you swabbed the deck of the Black Pearl.

“Yo-ho!” The crew hollered in response, as it was part of the song.

You were a new addition to the crew, and fine one at that! From your jokes to your colorful sea shanties, you brought such a lively and fun energy to the ship. Everyone there loved you.

All except one person, that is…

It’s not necessarily that he disliked you, but Barbossa didn’t seem to find you as entertaining as everyone else did. It was a shame, really.

“Quit yer caterwaulin’ ya blunderin’ mongrels!” He hollered as he exited the captain’s quarters.

Everybody looked around at each other uncomfortably and got back to work, disappointment in their eyes.

“He can be a bit of a mood-killer, can’t he?” Jack said as he joined you to swab the deck.

“That’s for sure,” you replied, focusing on your work. Then you stopped for a moment, smiling an amused half-smile, “I must admit, though, the man certainly has a gift for colorful insults!”

“That he does,” Jack mused, “One of my favorites is probably ‘salty sea dogs.’ It has a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “I personally found ‘slack-jawed buffoons’ to be a good one. It really packs a punch, you know? Like, it’s unnecessarily harsh.”

“That, and ‘wreckless pack of ingrates.’” Jack said, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“We should start writing these down!” You laughed.

A while later, you and Jack had acquired a quill and some paper, and you began your list.

“He said ‘poxy mongrels’ once,” you said as you jotted it down.

“I remember him saying ‘nattering swine’ the other day,” Jack said. You added it to the list.

“Let’s add some of our own!” You said, looking excitedly at Jack.

“Ooh, we should, shouldn’t we,” he said, taking on your expression. Then he thought for a moment, “How about ‘lily-livered milksops?’”

“That’s a good one!” You wrote it down, “I’ve got one!” You said, “‘Toe-eyed cabbages!”

Jack looked at you with an expression of surprise and discomfort, “That one’s a bit out there.”

“I suppose so,” you said, pondering the strange words that came out of your mouth. Then your eyes lit up, “I’ve got a better one! Bald-headed yogurt slingers!”

“Now you’re just scaring me,” Jack said.

“Okay, fine,” you said, chuckling, “Let’s get back to his insults!”

“For the sake of my own sanity, we should,” Jack said. You continued writing.

“‘Scurvy bilge rats’ is a classic, so we can’t forget that one!” You said, smiling as you wrote.

“I think he also said ‘salty bilge rats’ once,” Jack said.

“Honestly, a lot of these sound like they could be interchangeable,” you mused.

Jack’s face took on a thoughtful expression. Then he brightened, “I have an idea!” He took the paper from you and started to write.

It took a while for him to finish, which made you worried that Barbossa would catch you and scold you for not working. Finally, Jack was done. He handed you the paper, “I put the first parts on the left, and the last parts on the right. That way we can mix and match!”

“That’s brilliant!” You grinned, “I like it!”

You scanned the two lists, which were somewhat long. Then inspiration struck you, and you added your idea to the list.

You handed it to Jack, the finished product looking something like this:

Front:

A: Wreckless

B: Blooming

C: Lazy

D: Mangy

E: Cackhanded

F: Knee-knocking

G: Bloated

H: Salty

I: Yellow-bellied

J: P****-licking

K: Feckless

L: Lilly-livered

M: Filthy

N: Blundering

O: Bilge-drinking

P: Bloody

Q: Slimy

R: Bleeding

S: Poxy

T: Slack jawed

U: Nattering

V: Wretched

W: Squiffy

X: Gutless

Y: Scurvy

Z: Blasted

Back:

A: Ingrates

B: Cockroaches

C: Bilge rats

D: Scoundrels

E: Deck apes

F: Halfwits

G: Sea cows

H: Sea dogs

I: Milksops

J: Codpieces

K: Mongrels

L: Sobs

M: Whelps

N: Swabbies

O: Buffoons

P: Codpieces

Q: Hornswagglers

R: Swine

S: P****-lickers

T: Maggots

U: Curs

V: Ninnies

W: Knaves

X: Blowfish

Y: Picaroons

Z: Scallywags

“I don’t understand,” Jack said, with his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You take the first letter of your first name from list one, and the first letter of your last name from the second list. For example, I would be (insert your name here).”

“I see,” Jack said, reading the list, “I would be…p****-licking p****-lickers…” he looked baffled, and maybe a little disappointed.

You laughed, “That’s actually kind of hilarious!”

“What are you two feckless mongrels up to?” Barbossa barked. Noticing the paper in your hands, he grabbed it.

You and Jack panicked as he read your creation. Then he looked up at the two of you, “Get back to work,” he ordered. The two of you scrambled off, eager to get away from the grumpy captain.

“Do you think we’ll be punished?” You asked Jack.

“I hope not,” Jack said, glancing over his shoulder at Barbossa. Frightened by the likelihood of that happening, you two picked up your mops and continued where you had left off a while back.

Barbossa continued reading their list. When he finished, he chuckled and put it in his pocket and headed back to his quarters.

Thank you so much for this! It gave me the smile I needed! ❤️

@savvythepirate

[fiflowers]

Chase Davenport Fluff Alphabet

A: activities (what do you do together?)

Chase absolutely LOVES to do just about anything with you. He’s so mesmerized and captivated by you, anything that makes you happy, he’ll do. It makes him really happy if you do the things he’s interested in, too. (I.E. watching his favorite tv shows, letting him ramble on about science, read with him, etc.)

B: Beauty (what does he find the most beautiful about you?)

Again, he thinks you’re so beautiful, everywhere. If he had to choose, he would probably say your hair. He loves running his fingers through it and playing with it when he’s bored. He loves when you let him try to braid it after you taught him.

C: comfort (how would he help you after a panic attack?)

Chase is most definitely an expert when it comes to panic attacks. He would make sure you can breathe and would stay by your side the entire time. He would know when to give you space but he would whisper supportive mantras to try and help. Afterwards, he would watch your favorite movie with you to calm you down while eating your favorite dessert.

D: Dreams (how does he picture your future together?)

Chase isn’t big on the future. He likes to stay in the moment, making sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t know where the future will take him, but he knows he wants you apart of it. He pictures eventually marrying you and possibly having a kid or two.

E: Equal (is he dominant, possessive? Or rather passive?)

Chase is very passive aggressive with you when he’s mad. He feels bad to flat out yell at you, so he’ll throw slight digs until you ask him what’s wrong. (Slightly nsfw, in the bedroom, he’s very dominant and likes to have control. He is mission leader, after all.)

F: fight (how would you fight with them? Would he easily forgive you?)

Chase hates fighting with you. It does happen, and it’ll usually build up over time. You guys will end up blowing up at one another, and then need a day or two to cool off. After Bree talks some sense into him, he apologizes after a day or two.

G: gratitude (how grateful is he? Is he grateful for the things you’ve done for him?)

Chase is very grateful for every experience he’s had. He is grateful for his bionics, his family, and his students. He knows how much you’ve done and sacrificed for him, and he’ll do anything to show it to you.

H: hugs (how does he hug you?)

Chase is big on hugs. He likes you wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck, or he just simply likes to hold you close after a mission if it startled him.

I: inspiration (how have you inspired chase? How has he inspired you?)

When Chase is with you, he tends to be more laid back. He’s more open to rebellious tendencies and it makes him feel like a total badass. When you’re with Chase, he encourages you to try harder in school, and it eventually really pays off.

J: jealousy (does he get jealous easily? How does he deal with it?)

Chase is a very jealous person. He tries to hide it, but every so often he’ll kiss you a little harder to remind you that you’re his. Sometimes if he can’t control himself, spike may come out to play.

K: kisses (what was your first kiss? Is he a good kisser?)

You and Chase’s first kiss felt out of a fairytale. You got caught in the rain after Leo abandoned the two of you during study hall. After a deep conversation on the walk home, he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip past him. He looked deep into your eyes and pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss. To answer if he’s a good kisser, he very much is. He knows what you like and he’s good at giving it to you.

L: love confession (how did he confess his love for you?)

After your first kiss, there was so much tension between the two of you. It was left untouched for so long, until Chase couldn’t hold back. He eventually confessed his love while yelling at you in the lab, leaving both of you shocked. It luckily all worked out, as you told him you loved him, too.

M: marriage (does he want to get married? How would he propose and how would the wedding be?)

You are the only person Chase sees a future with. You’re it for him, so he wants everything to be special. He’s propose on an isolated part of the bionic island during sunset. At the wedding, he’d rather have it small with your immediate families and closest friends.

N: nicknames (what does he call you?)

Babe, baby, love, darling, (your regular nickname,) your actual name

O: on cloud nine (how does chase act when he’s in love?)

Chase is the biggest dork when he’s in love, which means that’s the main side of him you’ve seen. He’s very giggly and blushes a lot. His siblings pretend it’s extremely annoying and tease him, but they’re secretly really happy for him.

P: PDA

Chase is very shy about your relationship. He often gets teased by his siblings that he actually managed to find a girlfriend, and it makes him slightly insecure so he’s rather show his love and affection in private. He does enjoy to sneak small kisses or hug you in public.

Q: quirk (what’s a random trait about him that’s beneficial for your relationship?)

Chase is very smart, obviously. He always knows the right thing to say and when to say it.

R: Romance (is he the romantic type? Is he cliché or creative?)

A perfect mix of both. He’s very creative while still staying traditional. He’s very romantic and enjoys small frequent gestures over random big ones.

S: spike (how does spike treat you?)

Spike is surprisingly very kind to you. He claims to respect women- especially you. You’re also one of the only people that can calm him back down to chase. Afterwards, he feels terrible and asks if you’re okay.

T: thrill (does he try new things in your relationship, or rather stick to a routine?)

Chase enjoys having a routine, although sometimes life just throws curveballs. He tries to keep things the same with you, because it’s one of the thing stable and secure things he has.

U: understanding? (Is he empathetic? Does he understand you well?)

Chase is very empathetic. He likes to make sure you’re always okay. He can read you like a book and usually can figure out pretty quickly when something is wrong.

V: value (how much does he value your relationship?)

Your relation is one of Chase’s top priorities. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he would give up everything if it meant he could have you.

W: wildcard (random thing in your relationship)

You’re the apple of Chase’s eye. His family loves you, and he loves you even more. He’s grateful that you’ve stuck around and never given up on him, even with his crazy life and secret.

X: xoxo (is he affectionate? Does he enjoy kisses/cuddles?)

Very much. He’s often shy and doesn’t like to directly ask for them, so he’ll send you discreet signals and hope you get the memo. You always do, and it puts a smile on his face.

Y: yearning (how does he cope when he misses you?)

Chase misses you a lot. Sometimes he’s on a mission and randomly thinks about you. One day he got up and went to the store, and bought one of those couple touch bracelets that vibrate whenever one thinks of the other. (Spoiler alert- he uses it A LOT.)

Z: zeal (is he willing to go great lengths for your relationship?)

Duh! Chase trusts you with his life. After you’ve supported him through so much, it’s only fair if he does the same. If you ever need him, he’ll drop just about anything to be there. He doesn’t ever want to loose you and the thought sends chills down his spine.

A/N: I hope this was good! I haven’t written anything like this before, so if you have any suggestions please lmk. Look forward to more lab rats content in the future, along with many more. I accept requests for just about anything! (Well, for the fandoms I am apart of.) <3

[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”