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#idk man writing is hard
hailsatanacab · 2 years
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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Danny Fenton Characters: Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Gun Violence, Blood and Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Mugging, Medical Torture, Vivisection Summary:
“If you ever find yourself in danger, go to Bruce Wayne. He will help you.”
His mother had loved him, in her own way. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have helped him escape. If she hadn’t, she would have dragged him back to the League of Assassins, to Grandfather. If she hadn’t, he’d be dead.
She loved him, but she loved the League more.
Jack and Maddie Fenton loved him too, they did, but they loved their work more.
They loved their work more.
--
After his parents react poorly to his reveal, Danny escapes to the only person he thinks can help him - Bruce Wayne. He doesn't know what to expect when he gets there, but it has to be better than where he is, surely? He certainly doesn't expect to be reunited with his long lost twin brother Damian. It's funny how things work out that way.
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Chapter 3!! Chapter 3!! Chapter 3!!
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maybenexttime · 1 year
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Thinking about reediting my Military Wives British Airways AU into a single fic. I wrote it in bits because I didn't really have a plan and was ultimately kind of unsatisfied with the way it turned out. Thoughts?
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hyunievie · 2 months
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[ 7.25pm ] hyunjin is a man who absolutely worships you during sex. his hands trail down your body ever so lightly, treating you as if you were made of the most fragile glass. his plush lips press feather light kisses down your front, starting at the bottom of your jaw. his fingers toy with your nipples as he kisses along your soft breasts, pulling and pinching at the sensitive nubs as he watches you whine and squirm, your brows furrowed ever so cutely as you beg him to stop teasing you. he continues his journey downwards, narrowed eyes looking up at your face as he kisses down your cute tummy, the skin rising and falling with uneven, quick breaths of arousal. his hands slide around the upper parts of your thighs, raising an eyebrow at you as you try to close them shut, hiding your soaked panties from his view. "open, baby." he murmured softly, rubbing light circles on to the skin of your thighs, his gentle touches feeling like honey pooling over your figure. your thighs would open hesitantly, slowly, and his tongue would dart out to lick his lips, immediately pressing his face against your panties. a shaky whimper would fall from your rosy lips as he inhaled deeply, his tongue pressing flat against the wet patch of the fabric. "h-hyun, please." you stuttered shyly, your voice small and timid as you looked at him with flitted eyes, your face flushed while your hands gripped the bedsheets beneath you. "please what, sweetheart?" hyunjin replied, a teasing lilt to his voice as he grinned, causing your heart to grow heavy with adoration. "want ... want you- want you inside, inside of ... me." you mumbled shakily, bottom lip quivering as your eyelashes grew wet with tears, causing the male's cock to twitch with interest.
"hm, baby doesn't even know how to say please?"
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naffeclipse · 4 days
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I'm sorry if this question has been asked in some form or another but... How would Eclipse, should he have ever moved away from the Arctic in search of a new home, react if he encountered a pair of orphaned Orca Siren Calves (Sun and Moon) being raised by a reclusive writer human Y/N? Like either their sibling got the Siren Transformation and the whole pod is just now... gone due to some unfortunate events... Or the Y/N just found the two orphans in the shallows near their very secluded home and the parents never came back?
Point is human Y/N is trying their best, but that means things aren't going all that great. Both kids can read and are cared for. Moon is a master of the door dash app when using the tablet kept on land near the water for them. But there's love... Lots of love.
How would he react to this?
Oh, I love this
You wanted to be left alone, unfortunately, the two... babies, didn't get the memo. They're so small. You have no idea what to do with the mythical creature children. Sirens. Sure, you've heard of them. So why aren't they taking care of their young? Why are they wailing at the edge of the icy land you've made your home on? It doesn't take long for you to take pity on the small things and feed them some chewed fish (but only this once).
Somehow, you end up with a small ice shelter where you've carved two breathing holes under the ice to let the seawater and the babies swim for a day, keeping a careful watch on them while jotting down a few ideas you've had for your writing (perhaps inspired by sirens). Then, at the night's end, you lovingly pick up both toddler-sized sirens, tucking one into each arm to carry them to your home where your bathtub has become a makeshift crib of seawater and half-chewed rubber duckies.
You believe they're twins despite their different appearances, one touched with cream-colored orca markings and soft yellow frills framing his face. The other brother is black and white and has a slippery dark blue tendril behind his head, trailing into a luminous bulb. They have mismatched eyes but share one blue iris.
So much for only feeding them once. The tiny fish got you wrapped around their little claws.
They growl and chuff and softly whine whenever you're not within sight, and each of them demands time alone to snuggle against your chest before you set down your bedding on the bathroom floor and urge them to sleep through the night. You're right here if they need you. Somehow, one or both end up on you, dripping wet, and you can only groan and softly hold the babies through the night despite their constant wiggles and slick, sheeny bodies.
This goes on for a few years before you start to worry that your bathtub is too cramped for the children. Sun and Moon (oh gosh, you gave them names; now you're really attached) are so smart and excel at reading and writing, making use of markers and whiteboards, and remembering to let their hands dry before grabbing the paper from the floor of the ice shelter to draw doodles of the icy waves.
There were learning curves, such as when you had to scold Moon for biting you so hard his sharp teeth drew blood, but he cried, so you stopped being angry and showed him how to help you bandage your hand. See? All better. But no biting. Another time was Sun growing impatient with your slow pace as you gathered your writing materials before joining them in the ice shelter, and he grabbed your leg and halfway pulled you into the frigid water, shocking your system with the sheer cold before you scrambled out and had to retreat to your home to undress and get warm. Sun hid away from you, unwilling to come out despite your coaxing once night fell. You had to lay down a new rule: they cannot pull you into the water. You are not built like them. He clung to you and apologized, and you forgave him with a kiss on the forehead.
You wanted to be left alone with your children. (Yours. Your babies.) Unfortunately, they're not the only sirens around. You sense another presence just at dusk when you're preparing to take Sun out of the breathing hole (you can only carry one at a time now, and even then, it takes all your strength to lift with your legs—when did they get so big?) and pause with your hands under Sun's arms, his hands still opening and closing for you. Through the slight opening in the flap of the ice shelter, out into the shallows of the icy sea, you see two pairs of eyes, yellow and red, and piercing.
A siren.
You react with adrenaline and fear, fueled by the intention to protect your children no matter the cost, and pull Sun and Moon out of the breathing holes in a second. Placing them in the far corner, you shield them with your body. The strange siren pokes his head through the breathing hole not a moment later. Eyes wide, breathing harshly, you stare each other down, siren against human. His gaze slips past you, and he grins upon finding Sun's and Moon's big eyes peeking around you as they cling to your shoulders, confused and frightened. Their flukes flip anxiously.
The siren grinned at you, and for the better half of the night, you conversed with the siren about how you came upon your children. His intentions remain sinister and masked until he at last tells you how perfect he finds you and the boys. You stare, standoffish, but he assures you, he will be the father that they need, and the mate you deserve. You don't believe him. You don't trust him with your babies, but when he grabs your leg and rips you away from your children, much to their protests and small cries, you're caught under him and his caressing claws before you realize that his hunger is more.
It starts to make sense. Of course, Eclipse can teach them far more than you can about how to navigate their marine existant and how to properly hunt and not only take food from your hands. He teaches them how to sing, how to watch prey, how to use their strength and teeth to conquer. And you... you watch, realizing that you miss those bathtub days, but your boys are happy. They love Eclipse and Eclipse, well, when he's not tending to the children, he's spending time with you, laying his crossed arms on your lap to gaze up at you, insisting you accept a dead seal from him.
Maybe he has a bit of charm. And maybe you begrudgingly let you sing you to sleep when you're left fretting about Sun and Moon swimming late into the night on their own, but they're growing big. They don't fit in your arms anymore. You start to feel a little forgotten before you find all three sirens acting very suspiciously, your boys whispering before telling you that Dad—Eclipse wants to give you something. He softly presses a beautiful black pearl into your palm. You've never been much for anything that isn't practical, but it's beautiful, so you take it. Eclipse is pleased and so are the Sun and Moon. He steals a kiss from you. You don't mind.
You wanted to be left alone, but you find yourself in the siren's arms as you both watch a burning orange sunset and your sons playfully fighting in the small waves.
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ganondoodle · 5 months
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so, inspired by the warm welcome the captain received with that rough doodle i posted, i made an updated design for Ki'ita as well (basic and with clothes)
i removed the piercings she had bc considering that they spend the majority of their time in arctic waters i think having metal directly in your skin is a bad idea, no matter how thick your blubber is; i also gave her typical white markings a green hue bc ... i liked how it looked and makes them stand out a little more
(i will not repeat what i wrote on the post about the captain but wanted to add a bit of more info about Ki'ita herself)
(i dont have ALL of their backstory done yet but) the captain and Ki'ita worked together in another organization, one in which the father of the captains child also worked at, before being betrayed and barely managing to escape, after which the both of them founded their pirate crew (possible name is the Solar Pirates bc of their solar powered boat stuff); since the captain had her daughter shortly afterwards Ki'ita managed most of the organisational matters at first, including the construction of their base on an abandoned island they had initially fled to
over the years they invented the solar powered ships that allowed them to gain control over a large part of an important trade route, leaving normal ships (mostly) alone but attacking those of hunters and similar, rescuing demons and mutants, even some humans from them, most of which also join the crew and it quickly lead to them becoming their own little community
Ki'ita does not like to spend alot of time among large groups of people, no matter how much she cares about them, and her originally being from norther lands gave her the idea to explore, and if viable, do underground missions in those norther areas to disrupt the infrastructure the hunters had built in recent years and overall keep the crew informed about things that may otherwise stay hidden; with each of their travels her time absent from the base increased but the patience of the captain is wearing thin so its likely a serious talk is underway on Ki'itas third solo mission she nearly died due to entanglement in abandoned nets made by hunters from an unknown material that she could not break, the massive scars on her tail especially come from that, only surviving bc the date they were supposed to return to the crew had passed and the captain grew to worried about her and made the entire crew rush into an emergency search, including the captain herself and her toddler, who were not suited for the cold climate just like the rest of crew, taking a huge risk that Ki'ita still feels ashamed of for causing; they stayed within the base for a whole year afterwards, not just to recover but also as a silent apology, taking time preparing herself to ensure theyd not get into a situation like that again
(before departing on their next mission the captain gifted her a sword with the blade made from the material of the net, a wooden handle, bc of the cold, and a blue wrap around it reminiscent of the captains striking blue teeth; a reminder of what had happened, a means to defend herself when their strength and teeth are not enough, and also a promise to always return again)
the oldest members of the crew know Ki'ita well and treat her like an old friend, among the newer members she has more of a .. cryptic status, the mysteriously absent vice-captain who only appears every few months or so out of thin air, throws a big party, sleeps for a few days and then vanishes again, the only hint to when they will return soon again being the captain getting noticably grumpier
(OC art, Ki'ita, she/they)
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wasyago · 8 months
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uhh umm uhm random stuff
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brekitten · 12 days
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Bruce doesn't dream.
He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.
And yet.
The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.
The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.
(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)
This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.
He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.
Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.
Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.
He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.
He can't help but think of his own children.
Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.
Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -
Bruce wakes.
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rodolfoparras · 10 months
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Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex
One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.
Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.
He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.
However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.
As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.
He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”
“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.
His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”
You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”
“Next week. Cut it for me?”
The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.
He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.
You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.
You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.
“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.
“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.
“Yes, please”
“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.
“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.
“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.
He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.
You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.
“Sorry�� you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”
You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.
As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.
You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace
“Good?”
He nods with a giggle “tickles”
You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.
Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.
Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.
However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.
“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.
Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.
At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.
He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.
From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.
Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.
“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.
“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.
Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.
“It looks great,”
Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.
Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.
“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.
You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.
“Thank you again, love”
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oakbuggy · 6 months
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okay so im a perfectionist
imma go lie down now, goodnight
pseudo-sequel to this post ???
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duckiemimi · 2 months
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gojo “my one and only” satoru / gojo “welcome home” satoru / gojo “as long as you come back to me” satoru / gojo “as long as you come back home” satoru / gojo “i’m always soft for you” satoru / gojo “a decade and forever” satoru
how many ways can a man (because he is just a man) say “i love you?”
(on geto’s part, at least, it’s in one name. satoru. satoru, satoru, satoru.)
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moonflwer-gutz · 8 months
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God's Face
"Who told you?"
"God."
And God wasn't a winged Angel.
It wasn't the thing that echoed in his mind telling him to come home, join the flock, YOU'RE ONE OF US, ADAM.
Nor was it the thing in the television; the man who stole the child from his crib, cradling him in his arms, crooning, "My sweet boy…"
God was a static face. One of shock. One of terror. One of knowledge.
And It told him everything.
What he would become. What he would do. Who he would lose. Who he would gain.
His life. His purpose. His answers.
He learned it all that night. From that face, that shocked face. That sunken eyed, elongated jawed, black, white, and dread-inducing face.
God's face.
Ever the fool, he didn't listen. Too arrogant and caught up in his meaningless struggles to even understand.
He didn't understand.
But God knew this would happen.
This happened every time. No matter how hard It tried.
And so, the cycle would repeat. The Catalyst would awaken, the fate of the Jester would unfold, and God would come from that.
And God would try again.
For, God's face was his own, and his face was God's.
"Who told you?"
"God."
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willowser · 4 months
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oh 😭 my 😭 god 😭 right person wrong time with early 20s bkg 😭😭😭😭 i think about this all the time and ur recent is shaking in my head. and with how katsuki is just such a one person guy. like he sees you and he KNOWS you’re it for him but he just can’t. still thinks about you, looks out for you. and he tells you to find someone else with the emotional capacity that he doesn’t have, but you’re always in the back of his mind and he never really leaves yours either.
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oh my god. yes. that's exactly it. he's such a one person kind of guy. he knows that you are everything he could ever want—and he just can't do it. there's a part of him that wants it soooo bad, but he knows he'll ruin it if he gives it a shot. he knows he can't treat you the way you deserve, can't give you the time he wants, can't open up the way you can. ooohhhhh my god it eats him up but HE DOESN'T STOP YOU from finding other people. quietly sits back and watches it and—he wants you to be happy, he does. he wants someone to treat you the way you should be treated. he wants to see you smile.
but he is always sitting back and watching from afar with his heart in his stomach.
(but—i do think that's the sweetest conclusion, you know ?? 🥺 you go off and you find love and it doesn't work out for whatever reason, doesn't have to be all terrible and heart breaking—it just doesn't happen—and you come back and few years later and katsuki stands a little taller and his skin has a new glow to it and he finds out you're single again and—he's ready, this time 🥺 to give it his all 🥺 can't help but smile to himself because he knew you were the only one for him 🥺)
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chrollohearttags · 2 months
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fuck man, i thought my mind was made up but I’m sitting here crying 😭 makeup running and everything. Y’all need to cut it out!!
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szollibisz · 2 months
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i think the reason writing saf comic scripts with curtwen turns 3 pages into 20 is because i have a vague idea for a small comic but as i write it down i have to backtrack and go "owen would manipulate curt here" "curt would not tell owen how he feels" "they would not communicate that clearly" "neither of them would want to bring this up because they both know, deep-down that it would lead to the discovery that their relationship is just not meant to work" so instead of a little page comic where they banter over something it turns into a fucking odyssey of lying, attempted murder, regret and repeat
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angelicxdisaster · 1 month
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alrighty, this is a new account, so I don't expect like anybody to care about it, but I'm going to say it anyway.
I have 2 wips rn:
royalty au!wolfstar and lesbian queenxknight!jegulus with angst and crack and fluff and all the shit
bsd with dazai's sister!OC also with crack and angst and not a lot of fluff bc its bsd
i'm thinking of posting the wolfstar one here as little oneshots b4 i put it on ao3. (if anybody cares I'll put my ao3 in my intro post)
idk how to split the bsd one up into oneshots, it's complicated, and I haven't written a lot of it yet lol.
BUT
for every note this post gets, I'll write a sentence for each of them
and if this gets to, uh, idk, 40 notes, I'll post a bit of it and see if anybody likes it.
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numberonefaguette · 11 months
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I’ve seen a couple of posts about people being hesitant and not really wanting new players joining the qsmp soon + more languages being added, and I understand, but the posts mostly seem to be made by English speaking people and I don’t think they understand how big of a deal this is for some people. The internet is really focused on anglophone creators to the point that if you’re bicultural and living in the US, you will never get recommended a channel that doesn’t speak English, despite English speaking channels getting recommended everywhere else. The trending tab is only filled with English speaking creators. You have never had a problem finding content that’s in your language. That’s not something you have to do. The fact that there might be French creators added to the qsmp is so exciting for me because I will finally have a starting point to discover French creators, I will finally be able to watch content that is in my language. The qsmp is bringing non English speaking creators into the orbit of English viewers and that is so cool. People have started watching the Spanish streamer despite not understanding most of what is being said, they’ve started learning Spanish because they want to be able to interact with the Spanish community. If people are trying to learn French/Portuguese/German they’re going to have access to creators who speak that language!!! I have faith in Quackity that he won’t make the introduction of new players overwhelming, this is going to be so sick.
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