#dark angst

[sister-lucifer]

A Bullet in the Chamber

Proxies (Hoodie, Masky, Toby) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Horror/Dark Angst 

Summary: They want you to prove your love, to prove that you truly believe you’re meant to be together…with the help of Tim’s revolver, of course.

Content/Warnings: God, where do I start…obviously massive use of a gun, they play russian roulette, descriptions of gore, the proxies are super manipulative and emotionally abusive to reader, just a super obsessive not healthy relationship, this is NOT a feel good fic, it’s implied reader is being held captive 

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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“We just wanna…play a little game with you, that’s all,” Tim drawls, his voice deep and lazy as he looks at you from behind his mask. 

You’re nervous suddenly. Unbearably nervous. A cold chill runs throughout your body and makes your stomach convulse in an agonizing manner, and you don’t know if you’re going to vomit or pass out first. You don’t know why. He’s only just started speaking. Maybe it’s the way he drew out the last part of that sentence, or the way he immediately tried to soothe you before you’ve even fully understood what’s going on, or just that look in his eyes that says ‘I want to fucking gut you.’ 

There’s a reason you learned to keep your guard up around these three.

Suddenly the little circle you’re all sitting in on the floor feels much, much tighter than is comfortable, and it doesn’t help that Toby slides in closer, bumping your shoulder with his and flashing you a knowing smirk. What exactly he knows, though, is a horrific enigma to you.

Brian is on your other side, and although he doesn’t move, for a split second he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze returns to Tim. He’s managing to hold a straight face, but you can see the corners of his mouth just barely twitching as he internally fights to keep the emotion bubbling beneath the surface at bay.

There’s silence for a few moments, you’re not sure how long, but you don’t realize they’re waiting for you to speak until Toby nudges you.

“I, uh…what, um— what kind of game…?” You stammer, immediately regretting your question despite the curiosity that’s gnawing at you like a starving animal. You shudder when Toby giggles, clearly trying to stifle the sound as he bumps your shoulder again. 

Tim thinks over his answer for a moment, scratching at his stubble in a manner that is far too casual. You think he’s going to speak, you’re expecting it, but he doesn’t say anything at first beyond a tired sounding sigh. Your eyes are locked onto his hand as it reaches behind him, and when it emerges once more it’s holding onto the grip of Tim’s revolver. 

“There’s one bullet in the chamber.” 

The world is spinning suddenly as you watch him place the weapon on the ground, and the sound of it sliding across the floor to you makes you sick. You bite back a gag as it slows to a stop in front of you. Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you struggle for words, desperate to pull out some sort of protest to what you know he wants but no sound comes. 

They watch you grapple with yourself for a few moments before Brian places a hand on your knee. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, and normally it would be, but now it feels like a threat. 

“Hey, don’t freak out so soon,” He says, lips curled into a subtle smirk, “We did this all the time when we were younger, it’s practically a rite of passage.”

Unsurprisingly, this does little to quell your fears. You’re shaking now, unable to wrap your mind around how they could be acting so nonchalant about putting your lives on the line like this.

“Listen,” Tim huffs, “I’m gonna be straight with ya, kid. We know how you’ve been feeling recently.” 

That hardly narrows it down. You’ve been feeling a lot of things recently, none of it good and all of it confusing. That’s just the sort of conflict born from this kind of captivity. You shrug, unsure what to say. 

“We know you w-wanna leave,” Toby clarifies, “I saw you staring out t-the window the other day…you just s-sat there for hours.” 

That…made you feel a bit guilty. You shouldn’t, but you do. You could’ve at least made it less obvious. 

“We trust you, hon,” Brian adds with a nod, “But we also think we could all use a little…what did you call it?”

He turns to Tim, who yawns before answering. 

“…Group bonding.” 

You shudder at the phrase. Disgusting. 

“I…I don’t think this is the best way to…t-to do that,” You murmur, but your words hold no weight when you can’t even look them in the eyes. You’d never take the risk of making any sort of real fuss anyways.

Tim shrugs, seeming to consider your words. 

“How would you do it, then?” 

You…don’t have an answer for that. Why don’t you have an answer for that? 

“I-I don’t know, I mean…can’t we just have awkward group sex like other, uh…groups, or whatever?” You ask, hesitating to call your dynamic any sort of relationship.

You make sure to tack on a nervous laugh at the end to make it seem lighthearted, but no one is amused. Toby giggles, but he’s laughing at you, and it’s painfully obvious. 

“Don’t stress about it,” Tim says, “Just think of it as a…a test, you know?” 

He sighs when you shake your head no.

“Ya know, like…a way of proving yourself. I mean, you trust us, right?” 

You hesitate to answer that, but nod quickly when Tim narrows his eyes at you. 

“Good. Well, think of it this way: if we all survive this, it’s a sign that we’re…meant to be together.”

“There has to be a better way—“ You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Brian instantly takes to calming you. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His other hand comes up to your face, holding your head against his shoulder.

“Calm down, baby,” He says softly, “Don’t jump ship so fast. I told you, we’ve all done this before. We’ll even go first to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright?”

He’s not really giving you a choice. 

You nod.

Maybe you’ll be able to just get this over with. If you sit here for much longer, you’re gonna be sick. 

Toby reaches out to grab the gun first. That doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s never been one for forethought, or common sense in general. One day his hubris will get him killed, you think, but for once you’re hoping it won’t be today. 

Not today. 

Not here.

Not right in front of you. 

Brian doesn’t let you go, continuing to hold you against him as Toby makes a show of spinning the chamber, letting it run until it stops on its own. He giggles with deranged amusement as he presses the end of the barrel to the bottom of his chin, looking back at Tim with a crooked grin. 

There’s silent for a few moments, and you can’t look away from him until you follow his gaze to Tim, who is staring back with furrowed brows.

He’s still for a beat, and then he nods. 

A signal. 

Go. 

You have a split second to process Toby preparing to pull the trigger before you bury your face in Brian’s hoodie and he, in turn, covers your face with his hand and squeezes you tight. It’s hardly comforting, but it’s better than nothing. 

The soft click of the trigger seems to echo endlessly in the silence that follows. 

Silence. 

You quickly look back up and are immediately met with Toby’s hazel eyes looking back at you, their corners crinkled with the wide smile that’s spread across his pale face. 

“Lookie there,” He drawls with a laugh, “This h-handsome face is still in tact.” 

“Hardly the better outcome,” Tim mutters with a roll of his eyes.

This prompts Toby to slide the gun to him next, crossing his arms in feigned hurt. 

“You go n-next then, wise guy. If you blow y-your brains out, at least we’ll know you h-had one.” 

“Shut up,” Tim hisses back as he, too, brings his hand up to spin the chamber of the revolver. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You didn’t think they’d be so eager. 

You’re gripping onto Brian’s hoodie so tightly your knuckles burn as you watch Tim press the barrel of the gun to his jaw, angling it upwards toward the dome of his skull.

He’s not nearly as giddy as Toby. He’s straight faced and silent, which isn’t odd, but something in his eyes is darker than you ever remember it being. You can only see his eyes with his mask on, yet you know his expression exactly. He’s staring right at you, and you’re imagining his brains dashed against the wall behind him, his face and any identifying features that once made him human reduced to a splatter of viscera that barely resembles the pieces of a person. 

And when it’s all over, you think, you’ll surely be the one left to clean the mess of what used to be Tim. You’ll be left to scrub the red stains from the floorboards while the others continue on as if nothing has happened, and suddenly you can’t breathe.

The world stills as once more the trigger is pulled with a click.

Then relief hits you like a shockwave when that click is followed by silence.

Silence.

Your lungs fill faster than you were ready for, and you cough and sputter as your chest heaves with newfound breath. Brian rubs your shoulder gently, his other hand reaching out to grab the revolver as Tim slides it to him. The gun is exchanged without a word, only piercing eye contact as Brian lifts the weapon and spins the chamber, just as his companions had done before him. 

It seems so natural for all of them. In the half a second it takes for Brian to lift the gun you wonder how many times they’ve done this, if you’re the first  person to witness this ritual, and if not, what happened to those who came before you. 

You don’t find any hope of getting answers, though, as you watch Brian press the barrel to the side of his head. He gives you a squeeze, and you can’t tell if he’s assuring you or saying goodbye just in case. 

You still haven’t released his hoodie despite the throbbing pain in your fingers. You’re barely a thread away from tearing out a patch, but you can’t let go. You don’t look at him this time, unable to pull your head away from where it rests on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re trying to crush him, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle and ruffles your hair in response as if he’s amused by your terror. You’re a scared kid to him, a foolish little child running from an imaginary monster despite the very real threat. 

You can hear his hoodie shifting as he adjusts the position of the gun. You can hear the slight scratching against his hair as the barrel moves against his head. You can hear him suck in a quick breath as he readies himself to pull the trigger. 

You hear the click. 

And then silence. 

Silence.

You’ve never been so grateful for silence. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when Toby claps and laughs loudly, practically howling with wildly misplaced celebration. He shakes you in his excitement, unable to get any intelligible words out through his giggling. 

“Shhh,” Brian says with a finger to his lips, “We’re not done yet.”

He’s right. Goddamnit, he’s right. Not everyone has played yet. You were hoping that maybe just this once the higher being that trapped you in this hell would have this minuscule mercy on you, but you were met with a resounding no. 

Brian places the gun on the floor in front of you. You can’t hear the sound of the metal gently knocking against the wood floor, but it makes you feel ice cold. Your world is rapidly going dark as you struggle to make yourself breathe. 

You can feel the others’ eyes on you, three pairs of eyes staring right at you and boring a hole through your skull that’ll surely be identical to the one the bullet will leave. Maybe they’re imagining it, too. 

It seems you’re not moving fast enough for them.

Toby reaches out and grabs your wrist a bit too roughly, forcefully placing your hand on the gun. You wince like you expect it to burn, but you’re left with only the cruel sensation of metal on your palm. 

You weakly curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. It feels impossibly heavy as you lift it, trembling like a leaf in the wind. You force your other hand up, placing two fingers on the chamber of the revolver as you prepare to spin it.

You press the pads of your fingers against the metal, pushing down in an attempt to spin, but the gun slips from your shaking hands and clatters to the floor. You yelp in surprise and clamp your hands over your mouth, tears suddenly forming in your eyes but refusing to flow over. 

Brian sighs. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just disappointed. He picks up the gun, and you think that maybe, just maybe he’s going to let you out, grant you some small reprieve and tell you you don’t have to do this. 

Instead he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close, and his other hand presses the barrel of the gun right to your head. 

“I’ll do it for you,” He says, as if it’s nothing serious. Like he’s just grabbing a box off a high shelf to be nice. 

You feel like he’s strangling you. He might as well be. It would be a more humane death. 

He’s going to kill you, you think, you’re going to die in this godforsaken house with these bastards, you’re going to die in isolation with no one to honor your body. 

They’ve sentenced you to death. 

You think back to that question of how many have come before you. Is this what they thought about, too? Is this the first, third or twentieth time someone like you has been here? How many unfortunate circumstances have stained the floorboards red over the years this cabin has stood? 

It doesn’t matter. 

None of that matters. 

You’re going to be the next. 

That’s all there is for you to be now. 

A stain of red on the old wood floors will be your only legacy. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you look up at Brian. His expression doesn’t move an inch. There’s no trace of the humor he always seems to have, not even a hint of feigned compassion or sympathy for your position. He’s not letting you out of this. None of them are. 

You reach down and grab Brian’s hand where it rests in your hip, your nails digging into his knuckles. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even move beyond adjusting his finger to pull the trigger. 

Each second seems to go on for an eternity, yet at the same time everything is moving far too fast. You can’t process what’s happening but you just want it over with, that’s your only choice. 

He’s lifting his finger, preparing to bring it down on the trigger. 

He’s pressing the barrel of the gun into your skin just a bit harder as he readies himself for whatever happens next. 

This is it. 

This is it. 

This is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is…

The trigger clicks. 

Then there’s silence. 

…it.

Silence.

And then Toby erupts with animalistic, ecstatic laughter. It rings in your ears and echoes around your skull in an almost painful manner. You can’t stand the sound. 

You’re alive. 

The game is over. 

All at once relief floods your body in such an overwhelming manner your vision goes dark. You can’t speak a word before you’ve gone limp in Brian’s arms, and he barely has time to put the revolver down and catch you. He holds you in his arms and makes a half hearted attempt to wake you, but when you don’t respond he looks up at Tim with a smirk. 

“Out like a light.” 

Tim can’t help but chuckle, and for a moment it’s even a full on laugh. This only encourages Toby, who’s flopped over onto his back as his body writhes with mirth. 

Brian groans as he stands, pulling your body up with him. He throws you over his shoulder and nods to the others. 

“I’m taking this one up stairs, gonna put ‘em to bed. I’m sure they’ll be whiny when they wake up, and you two better deal with it.”

Tim and Toby nod and wave him away. Toby’s finally stopped laughing enough to pull himself off the floor as Tim picks up the revolver. He shoves it into Toby’s chest, nearly pushing him over. 

“Go put it up,” Tim orders. 

“Or what?” Toby teases as he takes the gun, “You g-gonna get mad ‘cause I won’t clean up y-your toys?” 

“Just do it,” Tim demands with a growl, clearly not amused. Toby rolls his eyes and huffs like a defiant child, but nods. 

Tim starts to walk away, headed upstairs to his own room, but he pauses on the first step and turns to Toby. 

“Oh, and don’t forget to load it,” He adds, “If it’s empty the next time I need it, I’m gonna kill you.” 

[jomamaofficial]

An Empty Vessel pt.2 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Happy holidays my lovely toes. I am so sorry for this delay, my laptop broke down 😃😃. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I have delved into dark topics. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I absolutely adore all of you, and I want to take this time to thank you guys for your support. Seeing your comments and messages motivates me to write :) <3. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Vague sexual harassment, substance abuse (weed, alcohol, smoking), death and bleeding. CW: SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, PFL, AFO and Shigiraki plot, swearing, vague mentions of intimate acts. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag Masterlist Edit: Part 3 😼😼 Word Count: 2919. Summary: In the stories Rei used to read him, heroes always won. Reality wasn’t a story though. The villains won the Meta Liberation War after 6 years of fighting. With the death of Pro Hero Endeavour, and the reign of All For One, Dabi could finally leave his past as Touya Todoroki. He no longer had family. But what about the past that haunted him to this day. A family that belonged to Dabi, not Touya? One that escaped unborn?

——————————————————————————————————

Musutafu, Japan– it made international headlines. 

The Paranormal Liberation Force finally did it. 

The nation observed a minute of silence for the fall of Pro Hero Endeavour. 

Musutafu was now all for one. And the entire nation would soon suffer the same fate. 

Dabi stretched his neck to the left, stretching his right shoulder as he fought the growing tingles in his body. Chills ran up and down his spine as his eyes followed the tears of rain flooding the dimly-lit road.

He loved how empty this street was: no cars, no news reporters. There were no signs of nagging parents and their brat children, and there were no heroes patrolling the streets, strutting up and down like they owned the place.  

It was just him and the soft sound of the rain which seeped into his socks, staining them with the remains of what was now All For One’s headquarter city. 

Dabi wished to hear the familiar croak of Tomura’s voice: the back and forth banter, the late-night clicks of the video game console. Back when it was just them, the League of Villains. Tomura, Kurogiri, Toga, Twice, and him. Back when he didn’t ruin everything. 

Dabi never told anyone, but there was a tiny part of his soul that withered away when he was near All For One. 

Dabi felt small. He was 5’9; he never felt small. 

But that thing would always tower over him. His slimy touch was forcefully ingrained into Dabi’s skin— that thing touched him like he owned Dabi. 

And Dabi hated the way his mind memorised the way All For One used his crooked fingers to tilt Dabi’s head up to inspect him. 

“Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura? Where do you find these pretty boys?”

He hated the way All For One laughed after; it was a broken wheeze that rang murder in Dabi’s mind. 

He watched as All For One forced Tomura to laugh with him, and Tomura’s apologetic eyes wavered when he looked back at Dabi. 

He hated Tomura for laughing that day. 

But he hated that laugh much more; the laugh that tainted the fresh air they stood in. 

Now, Musutafu’s entire air was tainted by that laugh. 

Now… Musutafu belonged to All For One. And Dabi could only hear that broken wheeze. 

It would follow him everywhere. 

So despite the rain’s destructive nature, Dabi allowed the weeping drops of the sky to fill the emptiness inside of him. The cool drops were better than the air. 

Dabi was just an empty vessel. Nowhere to go, no one to go back to. 

-

The Meta Liberation War quenched everyone’s thirst for blood. The dirt was saturated with the blood of heroes and villains alike. 

He found it amusing, he really did as he bore his vacant eyes into the rusting ground. Dabi watched as everyone’s blood mixed together under his foot. 

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled.

‘All it took was death for them to stick together’. 

Dabi travelled further away from the battle ground, quite deliberate about the steps he took. He counted underneath a shallow breath.

“Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven,” until he reached the sixty-second step. 

His heel pressed against the seeping soil surging scarlet. 

And the world was still. 

So still and silent that the gentle wind snuck up on the thin man, and he let out a broken gasp as his knees gave out. 

The ringing in his ear struck a bitter note. His chest heaved up and down, up and down, and his eyes were blankly fixed on the ground beneath him. Thick, warm blood oozed through the thin cloth that covered his knees. 

Enji Todoroki finally died. And Touya Todoroki was responsible for it. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, was officially fatherless. 

Finally, it dawned upon him: after 30 long years, Touya Todoroki couldn’t chase him anymore. He could finally find solace in Dabi. 

And Dabi was alone. He had no family. 

-

As the joint finally caught up to him, after four or five rookie puffs, the raven man started asking himself what he was doing here. 

Surrounded by a group of homeless men who he caught rummaging in the dumpster, they were huddled away into the darkness of a dimly lit alleyway. It smelled like shit, offending his heightened state of smell. Flies picked on the waste scattered below them, their constant buzz creating a monotonous flow. 

Dabi peeled his lips open as he felt each individual cell respire on his skin. His heart felt like it was growing inside of him, puncturing his dry lungs, getting louder and faster with each beat.

As a young boy, he saw Enji drink every evening for two years. Dabi used to sneak a sip when he was alone. Dabi was often alone. 

He caught Enji with a lit cigarette in his fingers. Dabi stole one and showed it to his friends. Dabi coughed a lot that day. 

Enji never touched drugs. He was against it. 

Dabi never took drugs; the thought of it never passed him. 

“How does it feel kid?” 

Dabi’s consciousness was dragged back to reality, the bleak colours of his surroundings painting a vibrant picture. 

“I can feel my skin breathing,” he responded, his lower jaw hanging open as he struggled to keep his neck straight. 

Howls of laughter echoed in the distance, but the scarred man took no notice. 

The joint was held to his lips, and Dabi took another puff. 

Dabi wanted to individually itch the surface of his eyes with his nails. It was miserable. 

But the ripple of the individual muscles in his cheeks felt so warm and happy when he smiled. That was less miserable. 

So he kept on smiling, jaw still gaping. His staples pulled against his grafts, but the molecular traces of marijuana in his bloodstream shielded him from the pain. 

Dabi was taken aback– gravity was working exponentially harder against him. A man touched the corner of his lips, the thick and coarse pad of his thumb sending him back, seven years ago.

Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura?

“Boy”, the man slurred, “you’re bleeding.”

He shoved his bloodied thumb in Dabi’s face. 

Dabi struggled to focus his gaze on the thumb in front of him, switching between double and triple vision. 

“Can’t feel it,” he mumbled, his reactions delayed as he scooted away from the stranger. 

“Everything’s breathing except these.”

Dabi was mesmerised by the feeling of his grafts against the pads of his fingers. It restored the faint twinkle in his hollow eyes.  

“Why are you all fucked up everywhere, boy?”

It took a few moments to register, but Dabi did respond. 

“Useless mom, dick dad.” 

A unison of delayed ahhhs followed, and Dabi began to feel a knocking pressure trapped in the inner corners of his wide eyes.

“I was never his first choice,” Dabi chuckled. He wasn’t sure if they could hear him. They sure as hell couldn’t understand him, but he was fine with that. 

“I was his first born son. No fuckin’ use. Dropped me like I was a waste of time and money.” 

The offensive smell of the blunt dug him further away from reality. Dabi was content with his own company. 

It would always be just him, forever and always. Because after everyone leaves, you’re left with yourself– your only support. 

The more he delved into his loneliness, the louder he heard his skin breathe, it was deafening. And so the silence on his graft became even louder. 

For a man who was considered dead all his life, Dabi wasn’t used to his living body. Senses upon senses, he was bombarded with the constant reminder that he was still alive. Even his dead, unresponsive skin felt alive. Because it was the absence of feeling that felt different. 

-

Many people would describe euphoria as extreme feelings of bliss and joy. It was this boxed definition that led Dabi to believe that he could never feel euphoria. But in this moment, whilst Dabi sunk deeper into his conscience– his doubts finally quiet, time finally stopped. 

And his body finally let go. 

The familiar bud of the joint met his mouth again, and he inhaled the noxious fumes until he smoked his fears away into the midst of the neverending clouds in the night sky. The full moon gleamed down on his pale skin, bathing his grafts in a lunar embrace. 

Unlike the sun, which beat its scorching rays on his sensitive skin, the moon shyly kissed it, leaving trails of beautiful markings that soothed his aches. 

Dabi’s heart was working overtime. Blood rushed to his scalp, and his body completely shut down. There was one name that his heart called for. 

A name that belonged to the past. The moon shyly casted a glow on that face too, but it averted its lunar eyes when Dabi defiled his past, leaving trails of burns that caused her aches. 

He was wrong. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, had no family.  

But Dabi? 

Dabi had a family. 

-

Dabi woke up to blue skies and a gentle sun peeking behind the stained curtains. His body was sprawled on the tiny bed, his limbs spilling out the sides, here and there. He blindly groped for his phone in the midst of thin sheets, switching it on to check the time. 

09:23 AM. 

He groaned and threw a dark shirt on top of his eyes, blocking the obnoxious sun as he squirmed to find his sleep. 

Moments passed and all he could focus on was the neverending tick of the clock in the corridor. 

“Fuck it.”

Dabi slipped on some shirt, and put on some shoes, and slammed the door when he left. 

09:36 AM. 

No wonder he could hear the tick, the corridor was ghost-quiet. 

Routinely, Dabi heaved himself over to the bar, scanning the counter for a quick shot.

09:41 AM. 

Toga walked inside the lair, her hands hidden inside the cuffs of her cardigan. Dabi nodded at her as he let out a yawn. 

“Everyone die or summin’?”

Toga stared at him, her eyes glazed. 

Dabi immediately straightened up. 

“Wait, did they actua-”

“She’s gone.”

09:49 AM.

Dabi’s jaw tensed up, gripping the shot glass tighter. 

“Who’s gon-”

His body was jolted back into the counter, the loud glass shrieking as it fell from his hands. 

“Don’t you dare Dabi. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes were red. Her fist was clenched around the loose cloth that hung on him. 

Dabi averted his eyes from Toga, releasing a shallow breath. 

Toga’s chest hiccuped underneath her cardigan, and she hid her face into his chest, staining it with stale tears. 

“She’s gone,” she repeated, a broken record.  

Dabi clasped his arms around her, his hands patting her head. 

09:59 AM. 

“She left.” 

-

Dabi reached for the flask hidden in his inner pockets. Bony fingers struggled to open it, fine tremors running through his bones. 

‘Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…’ 

Door number eighteen. A few strides away. But the growing feeling of heaviness in Dabi’s feet warned him: it was going to be a marathon. 

Countless strangers pointed at the lone man in a tattered, thick jacket. Dabi grasped at the wire fence that separated the long stretches of the park and pavement, muttering something underneath his breath.

The sight of free cars strolling past him caught him off guard every single time. He had no sense of time, no sense of direction. 

He was far, far away from Musutafu. 

Here, the air felt fresher. 

It wouldn’t be long before it was infested either. 

But he had to owe All For One some credit. 

His reign of terror gave the PLF members a huge leverage when it came to accessing government files. 

Dabi flipped through piles of kojin bangō, particularly scanning through documents of 27 year-old mothers, registered births and quirk-hybrids, and a certain family name. 

He found everyone’s name, everyone’s identity; no one was safe. 

Yet the name his eyes yearned for was nowhere in sight. 

Countless days and nights were spent silently begging for a lead. On day 18, Dabi finally left the building, clutching onto a piece of paper close to his heart. 

Saira Uchiyama. 

Names didn’t match, but it was the only name that he could trace her back to. 

Dabi took the final steps up the road, feeling lighter than he had in days. 

It was on his right. There was but a sliver of road that separated Dabi and door number eighteen. 

His fingers started picking at the ripping cuticles on his nail bed, and the grown man started to track his breaths. 

He took a step. 

A car honked at him. 

“Watch where you’re going!”

Dabi didn’t draw back. 

He took another step, and another, and another. One more, maybe two. 

He could feel the gravel underneath his boots. Dabi lifted his broken face and a perfect house stared down at him. Pristine brick walls stood proud; the bright toned paint complimented the thriving flora in the yard. It fit in so well with the lines of houses, strong and shielded. 

This was someone’s home. Bonsai trees armed the right side of the yard, some trimmed, others growing wild. 

There were two floors and a garage; more than enough for a perfect family. 

Dabi was stopped by the fence gates that guarded the perimeters. He struggled to get past. 

Encrusted in metal, his eyes laid upon the name beside the door. 

Engraved in gold letters, it read Uchiyama.

He was a step away from Saira Uchiyama’s front door. 

Dabi’s hand reached towards the door handle, but he stopped when he felt the unwelcoming chill of it. 

He eyed the doorbell instead. He fisted his hand that was itching to press it. 

The drowning noises of children’s laughter bled through his skull from the park that was behind him. The drones of parents buying ice cream, and husbands holding their wives’ hands. This was the type of neighbourhood he was in. 

And someone told him. Since when did Dabi develop the need to preserve this? 

He was a lone man, half dead. He was disgusting. He couldn’t find her name. Now he was outside some poor woman’s house. Saira Uchiyama. How would she feel seeing a decaying man waiting outside her front door? How would her husband feel if some uninvited scarred freak asked to meet his wife, hands empty? 

He felt a thick substance roll past his cheek and drip onto the clean welcome mat. 

Dabi pushed his raven locks out of his eyes, biting onto his knuckles as he struggled to maintain a steady breath

His nails moved to pick at the staples underneath his eyes. 

He couldn’t do this. 

‘I can’t fucking do this.’

Through his bloodied waterline, he looked at the doorbell one more time before turning around. 

He couldn’t fucking do this. Dabi didn’t belong here. 

He tried to move forwards but his legs were shackled to the pebbly footpath. His rhythmic heart couldn’t let go. His twisted mind forced him to go. 

His desperate eyes latched onto the bed of perfect flowers on his right. 

Like an open flame, the flowers stole all his attention. Dabi stilled. 

Their indigo petals mirrored the deep colour of his dead skin. He was entranced by the bold opening, the beautiful colour bleeding out and reflecting the glimmering hope that built up in his cerulean eyes. 

-

“What’s your favourite flower Dabi?” Toga asked as she played with her blunt knife, running her thumb across the blade. 

“Typ’a fucking qustion’s that?” 

“God Dabi, don’t you know how to have a civilised conversation with someone. I’m just trying to get to know you better!”

“And asking my favourite flower’s gonna do that?”

“It’s called small talk, Dabi.”

He scoffed, pushing past the young girl to rummage through the cabinets. 

From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on her amber eyes intently pressing him for an answer. 

“For fucks sake. Fine. I’ll do your little small talk”, he gave in, evoking a small squeal from the blonde. 

Dabi considered her question for a minute, pressing his tongue against his cheeks. 

“I saw these flowers once,” he gulped. “They were blue, kinda like flames. My flames. I saw ‘em in one’a those gated areas. I guess they were pretty nice.” 

Toga pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side as she tried to paint a picture in her head. 

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“The fuck would I know? Probably one of those fancy rich flowers grown by fancy rich people,”, he shrugged. 

“I’ll ask the newbie, she’ll know what they are.”

“Have fun talkin’ to lil’ miss know-it-all,” he scoffed, happy as Toga skipped away, leaving him alone. Finally. 

A week later, Dabi found out what they were called as he was sharing a cigarette on the roof. 

“By the way, they’re called Rindou flowers.” 

Dabi quirked up an eyebrow, his lips curled in a sneer. 

“Those flowers you like, they’re called Rindou.”

Dabi’s ears perked up at the small giggle that followed. 

“I guess I could say being ‘miss know-it-all’ isn’t the worst thing, huh?” 

-

Dabi’s chest heaved as he turned around, his pace fast as his hands inched closer to the doorbell. 

Ring. 

The wind stilled. 

He could hear footsteps run down the stairs. 

Click. 

The handle moved. 

The door creaked open. 

It was 09:59 AM. 

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 3, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

[jeanbie]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU #5 ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: royal guard au | warnings: mature language, fantasy worlds, violence, blood, character death, battle violence, decapitation, game of thrones inspired violence | wc: 3.4k

note: one of my fave works ever :')

⏤ Imagine the way they say I love you. Imagine the words shouted at top volume, in the middle of an argument, never meant to come out that way.

Growing up, Levi had rarely thought of anybody other than himself. He was selfish, arrogant, cold and standoffish to his friends and family, brooding in his chambers and isolated from children his age. And so, really, he can’t complain about the fact that his father got fed up by his antics and sent him to a facility outside of his village, grooming boys into men, men into Gods who would later serve Lords and Ladies. Levi had never expected to go up in the world, but he did; quite possibly, Levi had the biggest task on hand after his graduation- like every great Kingdom, there was a monarchy. And, as it so happened, their princess was in need of a protector.

He’d been doing that since he was nineteen, standing like a shadow behind the young princess and watching without judgement as she cried, as she obeyed, as she writhed under the stares of suitors and yells from the monarchy behind closed doors. Levi was still selfish, despising the King and Queen and at the same time, needing every moment of his life to be by your side, making sure nobody hurt you or even thought of touching you. Princess Y/N, the only daughter and heir to this Kingdom; his Princess and his life, who he’d do anything for.

Should the city fall, Levi had a conditioned procedure and a network of exits to take, including a well-known passage out of the city towards the Sacred Temple of the Anders, where he had trained meticulously for eight years of his life. Naturally, Levi had never felt the need to practise this with you- this Kingdom was safe and secure, and would never fall under siege. 

Of course, now, he curses himself; outside the window, Levi can see turrets of thick grey smoke rising to the sky and glimpses of flames inside shop windows, the screams of the people- by extension, his people- as they fled on foot, on horse, on all fours, escaping the flames and the gunshots and the arrows that were being shot from trees and dugouts, men on horseback.

“Your Grace, it is of paramount importance that we leave right this instant.”

Behind him, Levi can hear the grand maester shouting at you from the door to your keep, his chains clinking nervously as a thud sends bricks from a nearby avenue crashing through the castle walls. He gasps with horror and has the nerve to grab at your arm, as Levi sees when he turns around. Before he can intervene, you yank yourself out of his grasp with a scowl.

“I will leave when I please, and I will leave when Levi says so. If you have anything against my judgement, I would enjoy hearing it at a trial for your head. Now, if you don’t mind,” you huff, finally looking at Levi and as you turn, your expression falls. 

There’s no word from the King or Queen, or any other royal council member for that matter. As the world comes crumbling down, there’s only you and him, and the withering old maester who eventually loses nerve, treasonously scoffing in your direction before finally fleeing down the swirling staircase towards, presumably, the next best exit.

Levi follows his body as he leaves before looking back at you, feeling his heart wrench at your fallen expression, eyes filling with tears and skin glassy. He takes several steps forward, because Levi is the only person authorised to be within inches of you without asking beforehand, and takes your forearms in his hands gently.

“Princess, I believe it is time to go,” he says.

“My parents- the King, the Queen-”

“Should have already left, your Grace,” Levi finishes. Your bottom lip quivers with the threat of a cry, and Levi without thinking cups your face with his hands, his thumb smoothing a fallen tear away. “It’s okay. I’ve got you and I’m not going to let a single thing happen to you, okay?”

You nod around a sniffle, gently stepping away and placing your crown down onto the bed, on a pillow where you hope it will remain. If not, somebody else can wear it with pleasure; if there’s a chance your family are alive, they might even look for you once this is all over. Otherwise…

You look back at Levi, whilst he’s busy taking another glance out of the window as if analysing the outside damage. Levi was undeniably one of the strongest, bravest and most selfless people you thought you had ever met. He put you before anything, even if it meant danger for himself, and absolutely anybody in the world would be lucky to have him in their service. While he stares away, you catch your breath and slip your hand into his, wanting the safety of his touch, his presence, to physically feel him there with you.

When your hand slots into his, Levi snaps his head away from the damage and stares at them, intertwined. He sniffs and inhales the smell of dust and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and finally looking at you with a scared, yet composed breath of air: “Okay. Stay as close to me as you can, okay?”

“Yes,” you reply quietly, immediately doing as he says and gluing yourself to his body. He welcomes it, embracing it, as he hurriedly begins a descent down the staircase and onwards with his pre-planned escape route. 

It’s simple, and easy to navigate, made up of stairways and corridors that only he knows about, lefts and rights down walkways that hadn’t been dusted in years. With every grumble of damage above your head, you whimper, following Levi further down the castle before finally reaching the dungeon doors. It could be easy for Levi, if he were the type, to kill you in here, or hand you over to the invaders as a welcome present, but he doesn’t; he pushes the door open and pulls you inside, setting off towards the back entrance that just occurs to you is open and untouched, revealing out towards the back of the castle near the creek, and the open passage you both used on evenings to explore the city and the fields, catch frogs in the spring in the pools, watch fireflies and lanterns on summer evenings.

Levi has you halfway down the corridor when suddenly he pushes you into an alcove, the sound of spraying bullets echoing in the corridor. A torn cry of horror leaves your throat as Levi pushes his weight onto you and against the wall in a crouch. A series of voices in a foreign dialect laugh from further by the exit, footsteps slowly moving forward. They think they’ve got a hit.

“Are you hit? Are you hurt?” Levi asks hurriedly, his hands searching for injuries he won’t forgive himself for.

“No, no. Are you?” you reply and he shakes his head quickly, sighing with premature relief. “Levi-”

“I am going to go out there and I’m going to clear the way for us,” he explains, and the plan sounds diabolical and you shake your head as he speaks, “and when I say so, you will run down that corridor and outside. If I’m not behind you, then you must go without me. Go as far as you can, past the forest like we used to, towards the windmill and the lonely tree.”

“Levi-”

“There will be someone there for you,” Levi continues breathlessly, “and they will take you someplace safe, okay? Promise me, please. Promise me you will do as I say.”

You gape at him as he tries to hand you something in his fist. “What? No, absolutely not, I will not leave you behind! Who do you think I am?”

“You are the Princess and your safety is my number one concern.”

“Yes, I am the Princess, and I command you to stay by my side,” you stress indignantly. “I am not leaving here without you.”

Levi’s face darkens with frustration, the item in his hand now forced into yours. You realise that it is a necklace- his necklace, with his family ring attached like a pendant, the chain slightly dirty and skinny. As tears pool in your eyes, you glare at him.

“Don’t be so stupid,” Levi snaps. “Don’t you dare put my life before yours.”

“But you can put mine before yours?”

“That is my job!” Levi replies. The footsteps are approaching closer, hurried and searching. “Just do as I say!”

“No, I can’t-I can’t leave you, Levi.”

“You hold no obligation to save my life,” Levi points out. “So, why?”

“Because,” you cry out. “Because I love you, Levi! That’s why!”

The words come out without you wanting them to, and you can’t undo it; Levi hears it over the crashes of explosions above you and he’s rendered speechless, his eyes looking at every feature of your face with an unreadable expression. He looks pained, heartbroken, his head tilting up with a forced, “fuck,” and he blinks rapidly, to stop his eyes from filling up.

“Why,” he says quietly, looking back at you; his eyebrows are pinched, his face in agony, “why now? Why would you say that now?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’ll get to say it again,” you admit, and after you say them, Levi looks like he’s actually about to cry when he pulls your face towards his, capturing your lips in a firm and deep kiss. It’s short, because it has to be, and he holds your face for a little longer before sighing shakily and pulling away. “Levi- please-”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, nodding as he speaks. He reaches for his sword- he knows how to use it around the hunting rifles, because they’re slow to reload, and heavy, and he’s not. “You know what to do. Okay? Hm? Yeah, okay?”

You force yourself to nod: “Okay.”

Levi doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that above anything else he wants in the world, he wants you to be able to live, and rest at the end of the day. Granting himself another few seconds to look at you and memorise your face, he smiles around his pain and turns into the hallway. Immediately as he steps out, hellfire; you clench your eyes closed and cover your ears with your hands, struggling to breathe around heavy sobs. From your mouth leaves frantic cries to God, asking him that if he’s there and if he loves you, will he save the one you need to keep living?

A few moments pass, and as you bury your head between your knees, a cold hand on your head makes you shoot up with alarm. Spotting Levi’s face in the blur of your tears makes you cry more, not at first recognising the wound in his leg, the blood pouring down his skin and his trousers torn around the knees. Levi says something- you can see his lips moving but nothing is coming out; he forces you up off the floor and holds you close to him as he limps back out into the corridor. As he hurries you down, you trip over the extended hands of bodies Levi has slain, their faces forever remembered as the ones who tried to take him away from you.

The sunshine of the creek is what you can see, and it occurs to you that Levi has smuggled you out. As expected, by the apple tree by the fountain is the white horse Levi raised from a foal, his mane matted and slightly bloody. He whinnies as Levi clambers forward, and before he raises himself up onto his back, he helps you up, a hand on your legs as he lifts you with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t have much time- the sound of battle cries back towards the castle indicates that more rebels have seen the slaughter, and they know you’ve escaped. 

Levi untangles his horse’s reins from the tree branch and heaves himself up; you're sitting in his lap, essentially, unsafely with your body facing his and legs swung around his waist. He does this for his own selfish needs to keep you safe, his arms around you to cage you in so you don’t fall. Wasting no time, Levi rattles the reigns and the horse gallops towards the entry.

For a few minutes, he thinks he’s safe.

Your head is on his shoulder, your ragged gasps of air in his ear and blowing on his neck. Levi just wants to cry- he wants to cry so badly and loudly, and lift you up in his arms and tell you that he loves you and that he’d do anything for you. Those three words are on his tongue ready to be spilled when the crack of a whip sends a shudder down his spine. Over his shoulder, you squeak with fear as a herd of rebels emerges from down the street, blobs that slowly gain shape as they hurry towards you with haste.

The scenery is a green and brown blur, the smoke from your kingdom clustering in the sky and filling the air with a choking and overwhelming smell of ash and fire. That same fire catches to the trees, flames spreading like water spilling and the wildlife protected by your family name scurry away to safety, deer on the road next to you, a squirrel catching a ride on the back of a wild wolf that pays no mind to Levi and his horse. It’s a game of life or death.

Further down the narrow path, Levi sees them; he sees the group of Anders boys standing around the lonely tree on top of the passing hill, where the end of the kingdom stands. He can make out three, on horseback and he doesn’t let himself get too excited- instead he sends his horse rushing towards them. Behind the three, there was more, he could see heads bobbing like fishing boats as the horse settled on the grass. Anders could help them- Anders could get rid of the rebels behind you.

Around his waist, Levi feels you shuffle, your hands creeping up his back between his shoulder blades as you sit back to look at his face. He trusts his horse and looks at you with faith.

“We’re almost there,” he promises, his eyes looking deep into yours as they flicker to the rebels and back to them: “Don’t look at them, baby, look at me, okay? Look at me, Y/N.”

You do, focusing in on his gaze.

“I love you so much,” Levi says, his composure slipping. “I love you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. His horse gallops faster, nearing the hill. The grass is right ahead, “I know. I love you too-”

A horrified scream leaves Levi’s throat as the rebels send out their arrows; one flies through the back leg of his horse and the other shoots straight through your skull, a circle of red around the middle of your eyes as the arrow hits your brain and kills you instantly. As his horse falls, so do you; everything goes tumbling to the twigs and gravel in a matter of seconds and Levi cannot breathe.

Anders move from the hill downwards but he’s not even looking. Levi feels his whole body shaking and his heart hammering in his chest, bile in his throat; your head is split open with crimson, the blood shining in the sun and Levi cries out loud, shouting to the skies as he frantically holds your head with his hands, feeling his body go rigid with tremors as he inhales the smell of your skull, his hands covered with it. This was his fault- he had told you not to look; if you’d have looked, you could have seen them raising their arrows, he could have taken cover - he could have saved you.

Levi is not the only person paralysed; the shooter freezes on his horse. He wasn’t supposed to hit you. He was aiming for Levi, but his horse had jolted and he let go too soon; without you, there was no chance the other kingdoms would accept their King on the throne. He pulls his horse back, trying to flee, but Mike from Anders slices the leg of his horse off, watching the stallion move to the floor with pain and Mike ends its suffering before it can truly suffer, thrusting his sword into the chest of the shooter without a word.

Levi sits. 

Even when Erwin, another man from Anders, comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders, trying to force him back, he doesn’t budge. He can barely hear Erwin screaming at him to move, everything feels like he’s underwater. When Erwin removes his hand quickly and Levi feels the floor vibrating beneath his knees, Levi looks up. Anders have tucked their tails and left, Mike now on his horse and retreating back to the tree. The rebels can’t touch them there- they’re on sacred ground.

In his head, flashing images of your smile replay, the static in his ears. This was his fault. This was all his fault.

Quietly, Levi whispers I’m sorry, his lips on your hands as he gently sets you down on the floor. Mike rides up to him, stopping for one moment and looking at him silently. Nothing is said but he knows what to do, he knows what Levi wants. 

In less than three seconds, Mike jumps off his horse and gathers you in his arms, mounting the horse once more and riding towards the plains. If Levi’s lucky, they might get his body too.

Rising to his feet, Levi feels a wave of anger washing over him; his body vibrates with hostility and his face is darkened with pain and sorrow and guilt. As the rebels surge towards him, singing battle cries, Levi unsheathes his sword and stands his ground, feeling the energy from the earth ride through his body. All he can think about is you- his Y/N, his Princess, his meaning and will to live.

And they’ve taken that away from him.

Levi fights for your honour until he feels the clean blade of a sword on his neck. When the blade cuts and slices Levi’s head off his neck and shoulders, Mike’s horse bristles and he turns away unexpectedly, bringing you closer to his chest and retreating down the plain and back towards the Temple of Anders.

If Erwin wanted, he and his men could shoot those rebels, who laugh and cheer tauntingly as they drag Levi’s body up and pull it towards one of their horses. On the side, in a sack on one of the stallions, Erwin spots the tufts of fur from a wolf from the sacred forests, blood dripping from the sawn-off head like a tap. The foreign rebels are famous for what they’ll do next, and what they’ll show to celebrate the death of the monarchy- the irony of a sacred creature sewn onto a sacred guard to the sacred monarchy.

Erwin turns away. What’s done is done, and the only thing he can do now, is save himself.

[imekitty]

When you and your bes fren share an interest…

[aaapril0987]

I NEED OCTONAUTS HEADCANON PLSSSSS. ESPECIALLY CAPTAIN BARNACLES (ANGST) HEADCANONS🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[larz-barz]

Shock

——————————————————————————

Warning(s)/info: Gore, angst, character death, Zankoku is a psychopath so be ready for that, TanjMilo angst

Tagging: Uhm.. no one cause I don’t want to be mean this time..

——————————————————————————

Milo fought tirelessly for hours on end against Zankoku.

He had used his claws to slice her stomach open around an hour ago so she’s been doing her best to use her breathing to stop the bleeding.

“This has been very fun, but I’m feeling very bored now~ Ciao~!”

Tanjiro had been trying to get to Milo for so long at this point.

Just as he was finally getting to his angel so he could help her..

SNAP!

Milo’s body hit the ground and Zankoku’s malicious laughter filled the air as Tanjiro stared at Milo’s lifeless body in disbelief.

No….

Milo can’t be gone!!

This has to be a dream!!

C’mon Tanjiro… wake up!!!

Tanjiro snapped out of his thoughts as he scrambled to Milo’s side.

“A-Angel p-please!!! N-no!!!!” He cried out loudly as he gently hugged Milo’s corpse.

Zankoku laughs more than kicks Tanjiro away from Milo’s body.

Suddenly Zankoku’s head fell to the ground and he looks up in horror at the 17 year old boy who did this.

Michio just.. looks shocked as he walks to Milo’s body and drops to his knees..

“Milo…..” Michio’s voice breaks as tears begin to rapidly fall down his cheeks.

Tanjiro slowly approaches Milo and Michio.

Suddenly the crows begin to fly around to announce..

Yet another death in this war..

Along with announcing the demon slayers won…

Tanjiro and Michio just…

They can’t be happy about the victory at all…

Could this really be considered a victory with so many special lives lost…?

Tanjiro holds Milo close.

“I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, angel…..”

~the end~

[honestlyobsessed]

Here is a MURDER DRONES EDIT while we wait for Episode 7:

(Turn on sound)

OC music

[betzabobababi]

Through the Pain

Hey Hey! Before yall complain! You guys asked for this. You asked for Anakin x reader and flangst but I connected to this a bit more so this is what you get. I do not disappoint. I only ever disappoint my mum, NEVER my audience lmao. So I have exams this week and next week as well. I'm already dying but since I'm most likely going to be exhausted in all forms I doubt I'd be able to write after my exams. So I wrote this to help you guys hold out a bit more. This story is dark and angsty.  

The point of this story is sort of to show how abusers and victims feel while abusing or being abused. Reader is being abused by Anakin (read the warnings) When a victim of abuse tries to break free most of the time they are brutally punished. Anakin (abuser) manipulates his victim (reader) into thinking and believing that if she ever tries to leave him she’ll slowly die. If you or someone you know are being abused please reach out! Speak to someone (more information at the end)

Pairings: Anakin x  Fem!Reader

 Type: Dark angst

READ THE WARNINGS!

WARNINGS: Abuse - mentions Mental Physical verbal and emotional abuse- choking-mentions of being pregnant.

Summary: Real life can easily get confused with a fantasy. Especially when that fantasy almost always comes true. When anakin almost goes too far, you say something to stop his rage.

.

.

.

.

.

This was all a dream. Soon, you’d wake up and you would be back in his arms laying on your bed. Wrapped in his warm welcoming embrace. You could practically feel his hands around you…..

Waking up from your fantasy you realize his hands are in fact around. That heat you felt, isnt coming from him, it's radiating from the floor below you. Snapping your eyes wide open, your brain becomes fuzzy, the lack of oxygen now forcing your body to fight against your opponent. 

Throwing your hands on his you dig your nails into his calloused hands. Lowly he says “Stop. Fighting.”  Your eyes begging to be let free. Mouth agape, trying it’s hardest to get air into your now burning lungs. With little to no air your speech was constricted. Trying your best to get a few convincing words out you open your mouth wider. “A-Ani…thi- this isn’t…this isn’t you.” You finally croak out, using most of the remaining air you had.  Eyesight speckled you could barely see him. But you could hear him. He growled lowly. “YOU LIED TO ME! You said you’d always love me, you'd stay by me. You TOLD ME- you told me I had your trust.”  His hands on your throat getting impossibly tighter he brings you over to the edge of the rock. Lifting your body up into the air as if you were something useless and weightless. He began to shake you over the lava. As if he was violently trying to show you that he would do it, he’d drop you. 

Eyes now completely screwed shut, you whimper, begging for air. Begging for a chance to redeem yourself. Your brain scrambling to find a way to convince him to put you down, you scream, “Anakin! I’m with child!” Suddenly the shaking stops. You’re brought onto the flat ground and your neck is released. You fight your body to try and adjust and breathe deep gulps of air. Somehow you survived Anakin's grueling punishment. His punishment was to show you that even though he loved you, his authority (thanks to the dark side) should Never be challenged. He was stronger, smarter, and more hot-tempered than you ever could and would be. 

Sure your relationship with Anakin was a little (more like a lot) toxic, with his constant threats to harm you if you ever tried something. His mental, emotional, verbal, and physical abuse was now something you were used to. But you would never leave. You were forced to accept him into your life and now if you were to be without him you’d cease to exist (meaning if Anakin didn’t kill you the pain of being without him would) He was burned into your mind, your heart, your life. So no matter how painful his punishments were you would never leave him. 

“You’re - We’re going to be parents?” He corrected himself. As he asks his face is expressionless and his voice is emotionless. Slowly you nod, not being able to read the meaning of his reaction. Your husband’s hands quickly go down to your belly. Now realizing he had been violently shaking the soon to be mother, putting both her and his future child at risk, he wraps his arms around you. Murmuring soft “I'm sorry's”. Once he had enveloped you into a hug you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Slowly he brings his hand to your chin and he raises it so you’re looking into his deep yellow eyes. Voice barely higher than a whispers he says, “I love you”

Acting as if his punishments never happened was the best and probably the only way to bring his rage down. So that's exactly what you’d do. This time was no different. Quickly recomposing yourself you let out an airy sigh, wincing as your throat begins to swell. “I love you too.” You respond sincerely. Returning your head back to the position on his neck, Anakin picks you up bridal style and carries you towards his ship. Setting you down in the passenger's seat you slowly doze off. Once you wake up you find yourself resting on your bed, covered in Anakin's warm embrace. You close your eyes once again leaving yourself in your ever growing fantasy.

National Domestic Violence Hotline 800-799-7233 or text START to 88788

National Sexual Assault Hotline 1-800-656-4673

Stop it Now! 1-888-PREVENT

United States Elder Abuse Hotline 1-866-363-4276

National Child Abuse Hotline 1-800-4-A-CHILD (422-4453)

Child Abuse Hotline / Dept of Social Services 1-800-342-3720

Child Abuse National Hotline 1-800-25ABUSE

Children in immediate danger 1-800-THE-LOST

Exploitation of Children 1-800-843-5678

Missing Children Help Center 1-800-872-5437

Family Violence Prevention Center 1-800-313-131

Suicide Hotline 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433)

1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-827-7571

[rose-riot-johnson]

There was a single universe in the Multiverse where Spider-Man had an idyllic, perfect life, even as a Superhero.

He had a wife, kids, and his life was genuinely happy.

Note that I said "was".

There were a lot of Spider-Men that were jealous of this particular Parker's life, and therefore, collectively decided to end him.

I will definitely see what I could do with writing the requested fanfic, anon😃👍You're actually the 1st anon who actually mentioned anything in the ask, especially a request😃👍Anyways I will definitely see how this requested fanfic turns out🕷️😃👍

🕷️☠️A Spider-Man's Death Caused By The Spider Verse☠️🕷️

Genres: Dark Angst (Warning +18 ⚠️: Murder, Mentions of murder, and how the murder happened depending the reader's imagination)

There was a Spider Man in the Spiderverse who was had a very happy life, regardless if it's his personal life or fighting crime (as a superhero). This (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker, had a loving wife and kids who look up to him. He just never dreamt of a life he had, while he was more than thrilled to have the life he had.

Unfortunately one (day or night), most of the other Spider-Men who have been watching him frequently, and it's not just about the hate they had for him... They were so very jealous, where all the envious Spider-Men gathered up, as the one of the Spider-Men (who appears to be the mastermind) said, "For all of the Spider-Men who came here (today or tonight), we have this problem where this (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination), had this "so-called" perfect life where his life with his wife and kids are "so-perfect" and his crime fighting was such as breeze to him! Is this how our lives should be?! But no... Our lives as Spider-Men in the other parts of the Spiderverse has to be so miserable and we couldn't have such "perfect lives" life he did! If none of us can have a good life, neither should he! If he's going to have such a "perfect life", we need to end his life... But we need to have a plan to ambush him...". The mastermind Spider-Man and the other healing Spider-Men discussed and carefully planned together, as they then, came up with the plan every jealous Spider-Men can agree with.

When the time of executing the plan came, they had to makesure a villain was commiting a crime first, before they make any moves. When a villain finally commits a crime, this (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker was there to defeat the villain. Once his crime fighting was done, one of the other Spider-Men convinced him to follow him into an ally as he lied, "We need to go to an ally, because Venom is holding your wife and kids hostage. (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker then followed the lying Spider-Man into the ally to only see neither Venom, nor his wife, nor his kids, as he then asked the lying Spider-Man, "I don't see any of them, so where are they?", before the rest of the Spider-Men walked inside the ally, then (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker tried to walk up to the other Spider-Men, as he began to realize it was all a trap. He is very clueless on why they're setting him up for something.

"Why did you all set up a trap for me? I'm one of the good guys... I haven't done anything wrong to anyone...", (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) said, as he's wondering if they got the wrong guy. The mastermind Spider-Man then very angrily replied, "The only thing you did wrong was have your life "so perfect", while all the other Spider-Men can't have a decent one! If we can't have a decent life, then why should you have the life you have! You deserve to die for having such a perfect life, when none of us can have a decent one! Time to meet your end (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker! You will die by all of our hands!". (Up to reader's imagination on how all of the jealous Spider-Men (including the master mind Spider-Man) murders (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker).

Unfortunately for (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker, his wife, and kids, the next morning, a civilian who knew his family called his wife and told her that her husband (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker was murdered last night and the civilian even discovered his dead body. The wife was worser than traumatized and couldn't even tell her (which is his too) about his death, as she lied that, "Your father had to be part of the CIA and couldn't come home.", as she felt she had to, because of the fact her children would take it much worse. The life of (Peter or other first name up to reader's imagination) Parker's family's lives has been nothing, but miserable eversince then.

☠️🕷️The End🕷️☠️

I hope you enjoyed this fanfic my Tumblr Peeps🕷️I know this is 1 of the fanfics with a bad ending, however with the request why not have the ending that's I think a dark ending, however still ☠️🕷️As for you anon, I hope I did well with the request and with the Parker last name and how he was killed, I figured it'd be more fun for the reader to use their imagination, just incase if the reader wants to imagine a gory murder, at the same time also just incase if the reader wants to imagine a bit so gory way, etc... So, hopefully you did enjoy the fanfic☠️🕷️😃👍

[spookyxsam]

I need Peña fics, like now. Spam me with ALL the recommendations. I have a child/husband/assignment free night so I’m thinking about getting fancy with some popcorn, chocolate and Mountain Dew…maybe light a candle and lose myself to tumble for an ungodly amount of hours.

[heartbreakattheclub]

vanitas no carte ˏ ˏ

crystal clear ,,

[kxylynnii]

to make an angel cry.

carbon by dasu, you should listen to it…or not—your pick. | oh tia the things I think of when I see drawings like this…

The following oneshot is centered around Simeon from Obey Me, there is no reader ,,

please acknowledge that the following writing with pertain the following;

dark angst, threats of devouring someone alive, monsters thrive in the dark, graphic depiction of death, and demeaning speech. *not beta read

may i add that this is my own twist on how it must've been when Simeon was demoted, but a lot more sinister? yes, i've been wanting to write this way for a while i just needed some time to warm up to it.

dead dove: do not eat ,, suitable for a mature audience

It was far too quiet for Simeon’s taste. He couldn’t rest while just the candle by his bed was lit. Not when he felt like he was being watched. He knew his eyes were open, as when he reached a finger to his eye, he flinched. Perhaps it may have just been involuntary movement…but still. All until the insatiable urge to rub furiously at his eyeball occurred did he see something move above him.

What on earth did he just see…?

No. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. It all was just because he had rubbed his eyeball with a little pressure. The small light source was able to make out some of the popcorn ceiling’s texture, but still this couldn’t distract him well enough. Not after the sudden thump he heard in the faint distance.

Wait,

thump?

He turned on his side, tucking himself into the blanket. “There’s nothing to worry yourself about, your an angel…you have power. If there’s a ghost playing tricks you simply ought to teach them a lesson.” He told himself, hoping this would calm his nerves. It did. But it didn’t last for long, as several minutes later the sound of humming became apparent.

He couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, so out of fear he spoke out.

“Who’s there?”

He hoped not to hear something reply, or someone that is.

“Oh Simeon…you know me well.”

His heart stopped for a moment. Something replied. Something was in the room with him. Something was somehow able to communicate with him if they weren’t. He had gotten used to the tricks ghosts and spirits would play since the very first day down in the Devildom. So why is he now fearful?

“I can tell you why, it’s cause you’ve got nyctophobia.” What a friendly voice, for something that was rather imposingly eerie. And he couldn’t even see it or them…kudos to whatever prank Solomon was playing on him—but he ought to stop now.

Simeon kept himself hidden beneath the blankets, too afraid to peek his head out. He doesn't know what's gotten into him...he's never been afraid of the dark. It's just that now his conscious is urging him to stay hidden.

"Stop hiding, I won't bite~ oh...I see your toes peeping out~" Something swiped against the tip of his unsheltered toe, chills going up his spine as he felt it. Immediately he shrank back, falling into a fetus position. There was something in that room...he was convinced. It felt too real to be a trick his mind was playing, he could tell there was a sudden presence in his room also, not through magic—but an instinct he couldn't identify.

"Hmph. If you weren't so...you...I'd already have pounced you. I'm surprised no other has tried to come here and relieve you."

What did it mean by "pounce" and...relieve? Is it planning on doing that to him? This truly must be some sort of ghost, those things have all kinds of personalities, and quite frankly he thought he saw all of the different kinds...now there are ones like this.

"Whatever do you mean by pounce and relieve? Are you—"

"What! Nono, you disgusting angel, I'd never touch another in such a way. Repulsive, even for me. All I wish is to help, like an ointment to a cut." Simeon's shoulders relaxed at the stranger's voice, now getting used to its very suave and smooth tone.

"How are you...to help me?"

"Heaven called for me, they begged, they plead with me to find you. I, being so close to the land of demons, responded to them and said I will as long as I may get something out of the request also."

"To that they said, "Yes, yes! Do whatever, please make him holy once more!" So I went on in persuit of you."

In the middle of their explanation, Simeon spoke saying, "Whatever could I have done? I'm as holy as can be...I...when did this happen...when did it start?" He still was hiding underneath the blanket, he wouldn't dare unsheath himself without knowing the true intentions of this creature. For all he knows it could be some sort of denizen able to control him if he shared eye contact.

"You looked at the forbidden fruit, the sheep—with eyes of want. Deep down you knew this would send you plummeting, falling to a path you know was wrong. But that small voice in your mind, that kept telling you to stop...it was muted. The impure thoughts of your human puppet played tricks on you. He wanted you to be selfish, leave your brothers and sisters behind for that...that sheep."

"And so you turned and went on the impurity's side, you disregarded the pureness in you. You could have lived on—seen what that goat they call a sheep was destined to do with all that power it possesses." Simeon hadn't moved at all during that time, because he couldn't.

He was immobile because of an unknown force, most likely from the stranger. Their voice became louder as they mentioned the sheep more and more. It took Simeon a while to conclude who the sheep was, but it all made sense after sometime had passed—Ares.

Whatever could Ares do?

"Excuse me. Pardon me. Did you just ask...what that bastard of a human can do?" Anger was washing over the stranger now. Simeon now heard footsteps nearing him, the sound of heels clicking forward. With no time to react, the covers were pulled off of him. All around it was painfully cold, the type of cold where your bones would start to ache in fear of it becoming stiff.

What greeted his eyes shocked him.

"YOU DARE ASK?!" It...was her. The very being he was in love with before the exchange program. Before he was given the option to choose.

"How could you...how could you be so upright with them, but whenever you and I were out you felt as though you couldn't be so...so passionate? What does that goat have that I don't?" Tears swelled up around those deep mint eyes he used to always compare to topaz gemstones. A faint blush crept onto the creamy skin of the woman he'd always call his dove. Her supple lips were scrunched, the sheen coming off of the bottom lip now bleeding as she had been biting her lip.

"Jophiel...if I knew Ares were to effect me like this I never would have—"

In an instant, a hand covered his mouth, fingers contorting to now pinch at his lips keeping them shut. His eyes looked into the green ones before him, the ones filled with dissapointment.

"If you knew? Your an idiot. How could you have known that this would happen?" Her hold on him now loosened, allowing him to draw himself from her hand.

Unlucky for Simeon, Jophiel realized this and without a moment to relax his already heavy beating heart did she grab onto his throat.

"I should eat you right now, maybe then I'll be able to understand that sand filled brain of yours." For a moment the look in her eyes looked as if she may do just that, Simeon struggling against her hold because of it. That is until her hold on his trachea became too much.

"You truly are an idiot, you deny yourself the opportunity to easily overpower me...what a fool you are!" Her nails soon began to dig into his flesh, an unreal feeling washed over Simeon...something he never felt.

All around he soon came to understand what was truly within this forest of never ending darkness. Things looking like deformed deer and cattle lurked in the very room with him, beady saggy looking eyes that were detached from their place stared at him. Some other figures stood tall and very inhumanly thin or tall were staring emptily at Simeon whether or not they had eyes it didn't matter...for he knew what this visit was about now.

"It's...it's come to this?"

"You took my life away from me Simeon...if it hadn't been that way I would have certainly let you free...but because of this—because of Ares...it can't be this way."

Oh how those words hurt him. He shouldn't have been so shocked when he noticed Jophiel reaching into her robe's pocket to pull out a dainty gem that dimly lit a dulled sapphire like hue. Slowly it began to shine and the gem became bright even in pitch blackness. His body felt elevated—he was forcefully being shifted into his angelic state—and the airy feeling while like this was soon to be taken from him as Jophiel brandished a pocket knife that had a skull on the handle.

The Dagger of Relinquishment.

An ancient relic he'd seen while in the Celestial Realm one day with Lucifer. When he asked him of it, Lucifer hesitated for a moment, but finally spoke up and simply said this: "It's a tool used for punishment when an angel does the unthinkable."

Never once did Simeon as an angel suspect that very tool would be used more for than just a simple cut or stab wound...but a weapon used to kill an angel. He didn't know it all would end like this. Never would he have guessed he'd be subjected to such treatment...if he weren't so foolish to have fallen into the hands of the Devildom's snares he wouldn't have had to been stripped of his wings.

Stripped of his halo, his angelic heart and soul...

Which were now just food for some lowly scum of the Devildom. Never would it be given back to him. He had fallen, truly, for a sheep. His halo now was dripping, oozing black liquid as a poisonous bog had fell over him, not effecting Jophiel as she stood there with the hood draped over her entire face.

His wings felt like they were burning, and so did his heart made of purity feel as if it was bathing in the fluid of acid. Tears of sinner blood flowed from the cracks of his eyes and out, out onto his holy garments that now also were giving out and leaving him bare.

If the younger version of him was there he would have slapped him across the face. If Lucifer was stable enough he would have killed Ares when he had the chance—how dare that human do this to him.

As the blade was raised in the air, he managed to squeak out something. "Jophiel, when an angel is killed...does he get a second chance?"

She paused, having hid her face underneath the hood of the robe, she pulled it up to showcase her stoic expression. She's been demoted also...having to deal with the deaths of angels. Never did she suspect she'd be dealing with a trade Raphael was better at. She couldn't have dreamed to want to kill the very man she first fell eyes on.

The one and only man she has loved, stood between her and a sharpened dagger. She was ordered to kill him. She had to do it...it was her duty, God would know if she didn't follow through. Afterall this was the very task she was to fulfill to be anointed back into heaven.

"...No. He does not. Goodbye, Simeon, I—I'll miss you."

As the dagger struck into his chest, stabbed through his heart, more sinner blood flowed. Too much so to the point his entire body was melting into the repugnant goo that stank like a thousand decaying corpses laying in the hot sun. Slowly but surely did he soon melt into a puddle on the ground. Once he was all but a face surrounded by black murkiness, he spoke his final words.

"You didn't have to lie to me, traitor."

Soon all that was left was a singular fragment of the body he once had. Jophiel bent over to pick it up, embracing the piece as she now allowed herself to cry freely. It made the mood even worse as heavenly rays filtered through the window of the dormitory, slowly making her ascend. It didn't feel right to have done this, she shouldn't have...she was a traitor.

...Maybe she should have told him the truth, otherwise he wouldn't have left just a feather of his majestic wings behind.

do expect a second part to this, and yes it will be a bit more uplifting than this - kxylynni © 2022

[jomamaofficial]

An Empty Vessel pt.3 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: As promised, I have come with Part 3. I can’t lie, I did not expect to have so many parts to this series (me personally, I thought it would be a oneshot), but guys, seeing all the love y’alls are giving to this series is just AHHH. It fills my heart with joy <3. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because this series as a whole is just dark. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Substance abuse (alcohol, smoking), small mention of mass murder and a reunion with abusive lover. CW: swearing. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag @porusuniverse @iluvoaldmen @genshinsimpforlif @shadowmoonlight0604 @simpsimpson2023 @crybab7 @kaeyastittysucker @jennieyeager @an-ever-angry-bi @gyarukitti Masterlist Word Count: 2207. Summary: Saira Uchiyama. His past had caught up to him in the form of a family– Touya Todoroki had no family but Dabi could not deny the existence of his. The existence of a family that had driven him to search for a name he had never even heard of. Dabi's fragile world unravelled; every single thread forced him to confront the consequences of his actions. Was it even her? The one he had beat and shut out of his life? Dabi’s mind hurt, because it finally intertwined with the realisation of the irreparable damage he had caused.

——————————————————————————————————

Dabi has had his overcoat for a long time. 

It was the first thing that was ever made for him, and only him. 

He never had to share it. 

The material was light; he could move quickly without the weight dragging him down. 

The material was heat-resistant, so he didn’t have to worry about incinerating his clothes during a fight. 

His clothes allowed him to let go. Dabi could explore the forbidden fruits of his full potential because the material allowed heat to escape– because of the fabric’s ‘enhanced breathability’ or something. He never paid attention. But it worked, so he always had it on. 

Dabi made his way up to the roof, ignoring the small cries of his name from the distance. It wasn’t on purpose though– he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His mind had to work hard to think about nothing. Because if his conscience took over, his chest would collapse. 

There wasn’t anything left inside of him anymore. That’s what he had recited every waking day of his life as Dabi. But God, he needed a cigarette– to fill that hollow feeling inside of him. 

A few long puffs always did the trick. Although it felt best when he was on the roof, legs hanging off the ledge. 

One of his favourite hobbies was to look at the city under the glistering stars. 

Yokohama never slept. The little toy cars had small people that were always going somewhere. Their blinking red lights mirrored the sea of stars on the bumpy road. At such a distance, where cars disappeared from one end to the other, that journey seemed so mindless. Yet still, everything felt like… like it was still in place. As if everything about this world was truly intentional. 

Dabi dragged a longer puff, throwing his head back, succumbing to the gentle breeze and his thoughts. 

But in the end, you couldn’t make out any face, let alone their identity. Everything became insignificant. All that mattered was the action. 

Dabi could distinguish between a walking figure and a jogging figure. Whether they were alone or with others. 

But in the end, everything else was insignificant when he was above them all. 

So far up, that if he fell– right now– he wouldn’t come back. 

Anyone could push him off.  

“There you are!” 

Dabi grimaced. His soothing bubble had been forcefully broken, and he was dragged back to reality. He had his suspicions on who it was. 

“I thought we could use a drink or two.”

His eyes glowered at the approaching figure. He could never be left alone. But when the bottle of scotch was handed to him, the interruption wasn’t too bad after all. Dabi jerked his head towards the empty space beside him. 

He could hear careful steps approaching, then cautious shuffling beside him. 

Had he stolen a glance in his peripheral vision, he could watch the gentle breeze tease her hair, sweeping it left and right. 

He felt a chaste glance on his face. 

There was a thin, yet strong wall between them. It was thin enough to talk through– although it left no room for subtlety. It was thin enough for them to warm each other. But if they tried to cross it, they’d have to break it down, and crush the other under the weight of the wall. 

There was a lingering sense of emptiness that filled the night sky. 

Empty smiles, empty vessels. 

She drew in a breath, but no words followed, as though she had forgotten how to speak.

“Today was…” she started, only to falter off into silence, her hands rubbing at her arms. 

Dabi had his overcoat for a very long time. 

It was the first thing that was ever made for him. And only him. 

He never had to share it. 

But it felt way too heavy today. And despite the gale tightening its frosty clutch, Dabi could feel his body heating up. 

“The plan was successful”, Dabi replied flatly, “that’s all we need to care about”. 

He pushed his discarded jacket towards her. She slipped it around her shoulders.

The League’s attack on downtown Esuha was broadcasted globally, and they had finally reached the headlines of every news article. 

‘Bloodshed Strikes Downtown Esuha as Villains Unleashed Devastating Attacks’

After years of failed plans, the League of Villains had finally succeeded. 

No man, no woman, no child was left. But it was all worth it. 

Wasn’t it? 

Their plan was the highlight of every media discussion.

Dabi took a larger sip of his drink, bathing under the serene wave which washed over his inhibitions. 

And the wall between them felt thinner and weaker. 

“D’ya think your mom would ever sacrifice herself for you?” 

The vivid images of fresh blood and visceral screams haunted their mind.  

“What did that woman say again?” Dabi asked, his voice cracking, “‘take me, but please, leave my baby alone’... That’s what she said right?” 

Both of their eyes lowered. The alcohol and the little food he had consumed was kicking against his stomach lining, irritating his abdominal grafts. 

“‘She has a long life ahead of her. Please, please, don’t kill her please’”, Dabi heard a sniffle. “That’s what she said before we…”  

He felt sick. 

“That’s what we do, doll.”

He met the pain in her eyes. They were a mirror. 

Dabi clenched his jaw before looking away. 

She did too.

Dabi began biting his fingernails, and her hands fidgeted with the glass. 

And then they looked at each other again, somehow closer than they were in the beginning. 

“I don’t know if my mom would ever do that for me… But, I-hm…”

A dry chuckle followed in a feeble attempt to humour the situation. 

But Dabi finished her unspoken sentence. 

“But you would, right? For your child,” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows and squinted, trying to make out some of the writing on the tall buildings afar. 

“Any mom would do that for her child.” 

“Didn’t you just say th-”

“Any good mom would”. 

No one spoke. But they shared a knowing look, before averting them back to the vastness of Yokohama. 

“But to be honest…” She took another sip of her drink. “If I had a baby, I’d never live in Musutafu.” 

Dabi let out a snort, thus earning a playful shove in return. 

“Oh yeah? Then where would you live, fucking Minato City?”

It was her turn to snort. 

“You think I’d live in a rich neighbourhood to avoid being a target of criminals and villains?” She scoffed, slurring out her words. “I know I’m the newbie but you have to give me some credit, Dabi.”

He rolled his eyes, yet they still urged her to continue. 

She thought for a moment, her gaze wandering off into the distance, before she continued again. 

“There’s this place, just outside of here. It’s called Yosai. It’s this remote residential area. And, um. It takes around 30 minutes minimum, to find any markets, or- or any offices or clubs, and you know, all that stuff. I think, for most people, it’s like- really boring. And that’s why it’s so isolated. No one even thinks of going there because there’s literally nothing. There’s a park, and a local school– I think, but there’s no one. Nothing. There’s these houses- a lot of them! A bunch of houses with no one to live in them”. 

It was weird, to be talking, uninterrupted, for this long. 

“I guess”, she shrugged a bit, blinking a few times. “Recently, people have started building roads and stuff for cars now. So they can actually do something. But yeah. Zero reported crimes and it’s been there for a few decades. So yeah, if I had a family, I’d go there”. 

She looked intently at Dabi, who didn’t say anything. 

But he moved closer, leaning forward, sitting upright. He scanned her jittering hands before searching in his pant pocket. He raised his eyebrows at the cigarette in his hands. She nodded. So he lit it, pressed the ends to his lips and inhaled before giving it to her. 

He watched her lips touch the cigarette. Where his lips were. 

“There’s actually this property under her maiden name- my mom’s. There’s still some legal stuff I need to sort out before it actually becomes mine. It’s like this, it’s so stupid, because it’s like obviously none of us use that maiden name anymore. But because of that they can’t give it to us. I don’t even know… But I guess it’s nothing too difficult”. 

“Ah”. That was all he could say. But when he peered into her expectant eyes, there was a sudden need to elaborate. Anything better than ‘ah’ at least.

Dabi felt dizzy. 

“Umm… What's your mom’s maiden name?” 

“It’s Uchiyama.” 

When his delayed voice finally caught up to him, Dabi winced.

“Fuck”, he muttered. It was a stupid question, but he wanted to make sure that she knew he was listening. 

They were closer, breaths intertwining with each other under the watchful eye of the moon. 

-

There weren’t any buses that travelled from Musutafu to Yosai. Dabi made his journey by foot. 

Thus, during this four day journey, Dabi became well acquainted with people.

And he noticed that a lot of people in Japan had blue eyes. After the emergence of quirks, blue became a common colour for many. The truly rare ones were pink, or purple now.  

But Dabi’s eyes… they were different. 

His eyes. 

They were handpicked from the colours in the cerulean depths of the stormy sea. Whispers of secrets remained untold– that’s why no one could have the eyes that he had. 

Never. 

They were gleaming– echoing the beauty of the lights in the North. Depending on how you looked at them, they were teal, or sapphire. One thing was indisputable– the arctic chill they’d give when he’d pierce into your soul was breathtaking. 

His eyes. 

They were simply breath-taking. 

So when he towered over a small frame, gaze lowered, he could not explain the way his heart forgot to beat when he stared into a perfect replica of his eyes. 

With each beat, lost time unfolded in front of him. 

And he noticed the slight difference in the silent expanse that he had gazed into. 

There was an innocent reflection of the North Star twinkling in their genuine, rolling waves. Dabi’s eyes were an abandoned lighthouse. 

But, what alarmed him the most, was when those flawless replications turned frozen. Dark. 

Petrified. 

Dabi's heart ached as those eyes formed fog and mist, obstructing him from reaching the truth that was hidden beyond the plane of sight. 

His knees surrendered under the accumulating guilt of his past. And so his tears fell, trying to escape the grief and strain his weak body had repressed for so long. 

“Honey, are you okay? Who’s at the door?”

Icy tendrils spiked through him, and his breath was captured without a fight. In the wake of realisation, his body signalled all the alarms they could, telling him– no, begging him to run, but, his blood had turned to ice, and he succumbed in the paralysing grip of his inevitable fate. 

“Sana, are you okay…” 

He heard the voice taper away, followed by a sharp clink of a metal spoon. His laden head fixed itself downwards in shame, guilt, fear…  

“Dabi…?” Those words drifted out in a hushed tone. As if they were trying to protect the young girl, who now hid behind her mother. 

He braced himself for the hardest task he would ever have to face.

And in that split second, his breath had returned, and he let out a short exhale when he finally saw that face materialise from his past. 

Y/N. 

It was you. Saira Uchiyama. 

After 6 years, 8 months, and 19 days of navigating through the circular journey of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, Dabi finally had the chance to reach the beacon of acceptance. 

His shoulders slumped, as short breaths hiccuped through the dark caverns of his chest. 

He had finally found you. 

And he had finally found the end to his coveted quench, which yearned for a solace, only to be found in your longing embrace. 

Softly, a bewildered whisper escaped his lips, barely denting the silence around them.

“Doll…?” 

Dabi watched as the maturer skin scrunched together, deep lines frowned at him. As the tenderness in your heart had to be locked away inside an untouchable crevice in your body. 

“Sweetie, I need you to go upstairs okay”, you ordered sternly. 

You pushed your daughter behind you, blocking Dabi’s protesting hands before they touched her.

“Mommy, he’s scaring m-” 

“Sana. You need to go upstairs. Lock the door and close your windows.” 

Sana.  

Her name was a painful reminder of the blank pages he had failed to fill as her father. How could he have written anything? 

He didn’t even know what the title was. 

“Never fucking come near my family again”. 

Those blank pages began to rip. 

“You disgusting freak”. 

The blank pages had burned to ashes, and Dabi was left outside on the suburban patio of a perfect neighbourhood. 

Maybe, if he found a place to wash his face, he could blend in with the garbage. 

[kitten-phlegm]

I drew this meme I saw on tiktok and got carried away and hurt my own feelings lol

I just love him so much, enjoy!

Based on lilo and stitch

[imekitty]

PLEASE I need Rekt. You got me on the fucked up Danny/Spectra train with Wicked Games, you can't blueball me like this 😭

Part of me really does want to publish it but I'm scared of being judged. :')

Because ummmm

You know, there was an ask I got a while ago asking what I would consider to be going "too far" in terms of fucked-up dark content and I said that I was hesitant to include sexual torture in the Dis series even though I make parallels to rape frequently. But I truly was only talking about the Dis series because in Rekt, I do write rape/noncon, like I'm not against writing it completely, just not with Danny/Maddie for obvious reasons.

But Danny/Spectra, I mean...that's a whole different thing, especially since Danny is a full-grown adult who has graduated from college in Rekt. And just like I was afraid to post Disparaged at first, I'm even more terrified to post Rekt. But maybe if I were to start posting it, I'd feel emboldened to continue. I mean, I do think I'm good at keeping this sort of dark content classy to at least some extent.

[becomingvecna]

(x)