#in the end i decided on baby's first attempt at rebellion

[itstimeforstarwars]

How about a doodle of Myles and Derry when they were kids?

Here we are!

Derry had a (first) date, but Throckmorton broke their arm while spaceboarding so now the sibling who was supposed to babysit Myles is taking Throckmorton to the doctor, and Derry has to stay home with Myles.

They'll end up playing Bounty Hunter together and then watching a movie and stealing all the good bangcorn that Throckmorton keeps in their room.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Crush (2)

<- (1)

Summary: In this continuation of Crush, you and Daryl struggle to survive together against both outside threats and interpersonal turmoils.

Warnings: profanity, TWD typical violence, allusions to intended SA, grief/trauma, mean!Daryl, angst, kind of lengthy, lots of action in this one, not proofread, typed on my phone, mild comfort/fluff at the end

A/N: Some canon divergence here! In the show, the Claimers are first seen in an interaction with Rick. For storytelling purposes, the first and only interaction with the Claimers is with you and Daryl. This also didn’t necessarily go in the direction I originally intended 😬

(Masterlist) (Taglist) (Daryl Dixon Fic Challenge)

dividers by @sister-lucifer

By the time the prison fell, you and Daryl had barely spoken a word to each other. You both seemed to decide that the easiest approach was no approach at all. Resolution and closure were far to unattainable to strive toward for either of you.

The day the Governor came back and destroyed your home, you almost perished with it. Had it not been for Daryl being there to drag you by the arm as he fled the scene, you’d have been walker-chow for sure. Your legs seemed to move on their own for a long time. Your mind had long since tapped out and left you running on autopilot. Days passed like this; wide traumatized eyes staring into the distance as you stumbled over crunching leaves, unfazed by protruding branches that scraped past and tore your clothes. You were dirty, hungry, thirsty, empty.

Daryl wasn’t much better off. I’m his desperate attempt at survival, he was violently forcing his trauma and grief down the hatch. He was wound tight as a thread, ready to snap at any moment.

Perhaps, in hindsight, this was the best case scenario for you both. Had either of you been in your right minds — in touch with your human inhibition — then neither of you would have survived the night that the Claimers attacked you.

The fire was the first mistake. It was a dry and cloudy night littered with gusts of chilly wind. With the lack of shelter to shield you from the harsh breeze, neither of you moved to put the fire out before bed. That was your second mistake: sleep. After all this time, you should have known sleep was a privilege you couldn’t afford.

“Well, what do we have here?” Joe mused from above, sadistic grin just barely visible in the dark. Your eyes were wide open in an instant, body scrambling to reach for a weapon before a baby boot impacted your chest, pinning you down in the dirt. You gasped, struggling to breathe under the weight of the man who led the Claimers. “Ah-ah… I’ll take that.” He chuckled as he reached down and unsheathed your knife.

Panicked, your eyes darted around in search of Daryl. He was already kicking and fighting as two other men held him back.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about your friend.” Joe sighed. “Or— Boyfriend? Husband? Uncle? Makes no difference, really.” He shook his head.

“I’m claimin’ the vest.” A scraggly man piped up, snickering through crooked yellow teeth.

“I got the crossbow.” Another one chimed in.

“And, I… claim you.” Joe concluded, leaning down over you, showering you in his rancid breath. You flared your nostrils in disgust as you squirmed under the worn rubber of his shoe. “No use in fightin, darlin’. Hell, if ya make it easy on me, I might even let one of ya walk away from this.”

As Joe straightened himself to listen his jeans, the weight of his foot on your chest lightened just enough for you to shove him off. He found amusement in this act of rebellion, having faith in his men to hold Daryl back and keep you in line for him. With two on Daryl, Joe on you, and one bystander on the lookout, the odds would have appeared to have been in his favor. The only flaw in this plan was the gun you had tucked in the back of your jeans.

As you pushed Joe’s foot away, the only response he afforded was a cocky laugh. Otherwise his attention was still set on the belt he had just unfastened, fingers moving toward his zipper. You took this moment to sit straight, pulling your gun from behind you and aiming it right at Joe’s head. The contented smirk her wore quickly faded as his fingers came to a halt. Slowly, he lifted his hands in the air and frowned at you.

The two men that held Daryl had been watching with hungry eyes up until this point, excited to see what Joe had in store for you. When your gun raised and Joe froze, their expressions dropped to show concern, eyes bouncing between you and their leader with anticipation.

“That was not a good idea.” Joe scolded you lowly, drawing the attention of the man keeping watch who lifted his gun and aimed it down at you. “You kill me, these guys are just gonna kill you.”

“So I finally get some good shut-eye and I get to take at least one of you assholes out with me?” You fired back coolly. Days and days running on autopilot had allowed you the calmness you felt under such immense pressure. The threat these men posed was not lost on you, but neither was the hopelessness of life on the run. You truly had nothing left to lose, except a life that didn’t really meet the criteria of living.

“Huh.” Joe clenched his jaw as he huffed, glaring at the other men as if they were to do something about the situation. Feeling the pressure of his pack-leader’s short fuse, one of the men hanging onto Daryl decided to reach for his knife and hold it up to Daryl’s temple.

“Drop it, or the boyfriend gets it.” The man threatened, lips curled into a proud smile. Daryl’s head hung slightly forward, greasy tufts of hair dangling over his eyes. He kept his sights on the man, ignoring the idiot on his other side who’s grip had listened enough to break free from had Daryl wanted to.

See, your strength may have been rooted in the ability to remove yourself — to shut off all parts of you that didn’t serve your survival — but Daryl’s strength was in his passion for survival. It was all he had known from boyhood to manhood, and he was good at it. He knew how to watch and wait for the time to strike. He had patience, he was resilient, and he was strong. If Daryl knew nothing else, he knew how to live. It was not only a primal instinct but a guiding principle. Devoid of love and connection, he was filled to the brim with determination and brute force. So, he analyzed.

The man who held him at knifepoint had a flimsy hold of his blade, and his grounding was amateurish. His body bounced side to side giddily and his feet held no real bearing on the ground. The other one seemed to have a careless hold on Daryl, not really focused on the fact that he was responsible for preventing Daryl from breaking free. He was too distracted by the stick-up between you, Joe, and their lookout.

Daryl knew he had a fair chance at turning the tables and gaining an upper hand on the band of brutes, he only needed to choose the right time. As he prepared to strike, his breaths quickened in pace, huffing loudly into the tense silence. The lookout turned his attention to Daryl for a moment, sim following his gaze. When the lookout’s eyes and gun made their way back to you, Daryl shoved his shoulder to his right as hard as he could, knocking the man with a knife to his temple off balance.

The man struggled to find his bearings. With the knife no longer an immediate threat, daryl was able to swiftly pull the other guy into a headlock. Now, he had a human shield, and the lookout nor the man with the knife could hurt him without hurting their friend.

Joe was growing impatient, but he had to remain calm. Things were quickly turning upside down, and he couldn’t afford for his men to make any more mistakes.

“Now boys.” He spoke up calmly as the lookout and the man with the knife kept their attention trained on Daryl. “We don’t wanna let things get too out of hand. I’m sure Len wouldn’t appreciate getting hit in the crossfire.”

You figured Len must’ve been the man Daryl was slowly choking to death in a headlock. You kept your gun aimed at Joe, deciding he was the main threat given his status amongst the others. With Daryl broken free and their leader at gun point, you realized you might have had the upper hand.

“The one with the gun.” You said.

“Tony.” Joe nodded.

“Tony.” You repeated. “Toss the gun to my friend.”

Tony hesitated, eyes pleading for guidance from Joe. Joes eyes traced around the camp, taking everything in, weighing his options. With a defeated sigh he nodded to Tony, who did as you demanded and tossed the gun over to Daryl’s feet. Daryl slid it closer to himself with the tip of his boot before dragging Len down with him to retrieve it. Now, you and Daryl both had a gun and a hostage. Daryl kept one arm around Len’s throat while the other pointed the gun and Tony and the guy with the knife. “Toss it.” Daryl ordered. Knife-Guy glanced around at his friends before reluctantly tossing the knife a few feet away.

“Now, lay down flat. Face down. Tony and the other one first.” You instructed. They obeyed. Daryl finally grew tired of Len’s choking sounds. He pushed Len to the ground and stepped on his back to keep him still. You finally looked to Daryl for any clues on what to do next.

Daryl glanced around, seemingly considering your silent request for guidance. He knew these men would have to die. It was the only way it could be.

Joe, though, a resourceful man, took the only chance he could when you looked away from him and at Daryl. He tackled you down and wrestled you for the gun, knowing Daryl wouldn’t have a clear shot to stop him. As Daryl’s attention fell on you and your struggle for the upper hand, Tony pushed himself up and lunged for Daryl. Chaos broke out. Punches and kicks were thrown and desperate curses echoed into the night.

Len wrestled the gun away from Daryl, but he couldn’t get a clear shot while he fought Tony and the one who had the knife. Daryl ended up finding the knife once the other two got the upper hand and kicked him into the ground. He aimlessly slashed the blade, luckily slicing Tony’s Achilles tendon. Blood spurted from the wound as he fell to the ground, crying out in pain, cursing Daryl with any insult he could muster up. Len and Knife-Guy took a step back from Daryl as he climbed back up to his feet. Daryl’s face was bloody and beat up, but somehow it made him more intimidating.

Len held the gun up nervously, gulping as Daryl paced side to side, just as predator waiting to pounce on his prey. “Cmon.” Knife-Guy urged Len impatiently. “Shoot his sorry ass.”

Len couldn’t, though, because he had no bullets left. He hadn’t come across the ammo he needed in weeks, but it had really been an issue up until that moment.

The thing was, Daryl knew the pistol wasn’t loaded when he held it. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as it should have been. So, without hesitation, Daryl stepped forward and slashed the blade once more, just barely missing Len’s arm as he and the other man dodged backward.

Meanwhile, Joe had finally wrestled your gun out of your hands and dragged you to your feet. He pressed the barrel against your cheek harshly and chuckled with triumph.

“Well, ya gave it a damn good shot. I respect that. Life is precious, and whatnot.” He said as he caught his breath. His face was tatted and scratched up from your attempts at self defense.

Daryl stopped his assault on Len and the other man when he noticed you had lost the battle against Joe. Knife-Guy moved to reach for his knife but Daryl was quick to lash out again.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Joe scolded. “See, when you have the upper hand, you get to make those kinds of decisions. Now, I have the upper hand again. You don’t get to make those decisions. See how that works?”

Daryl scoffed and wiped his arm across his bloodied nose.

“This is the part where you give Dan his knife back, so I don’t blow your lady’s brains all over the place.”

“Nah. You won’t. Her gun’s been jammed for weeks.” Daryl bluffed as he paced side to side, fist still clenched around the handle of the blade.

“Oh, now I find that hard to believe. See, you’re tellin’ me she’s been travelin’ with a man who knows his way around a bow, but you couldn’t un-jam a cheaply made Girsan MT14 .38? I’m not buyin’ that for one god-given minute. My minutes are precious. I don’t waste them on bluffs. You shouldn’t either. It makes things simpler.” Joe lectured.

“Okay.” Daryl nodded. “Dan can have his knife back.”

Stupidly, Dan stepped forward to grab his knife when Daryl held it out for him. In the blink of an eye, Daryl had Dan in his grasp, knife pressed to his throat. Joe took in a deep, expressive breath, and let it out slowly to convey his frustrations.

“I gotta be honest, you’re really pissing me off.” Joe warned.

“The feelin’s mutual.” Daryl retorted, earning a chuckle out of Joe.

“Ya know, I — I actually like you. You’re funny!” Joe admitted. “It’s a real shame we had to meet this way.”

“Wouldn’t’ve been no different any other way.” Daryl insisted. “Either way I kill you.”

“Well, that’s just bad sportsmanship. I expected more out of a bowman.” Joe shot back.

“Never claimed to be a good sport.” Daryl rasped.

“No. No, I guess you’re right.” Joe sighed. “So, then. What’s next? Are we gonna stand here all night with our metaphorical dicks in our hands, or are we gonna settle this like men?”

Daryl seemed to actually consider his question for a moment.

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. “Let’s settle it.”

With that, Daryl slit Dan’s throat with ease, blood pouring from the wound as the man gurgled and choked on it. Joe immediately pulled the gun from your cheek and aimed for Daryl, but the shot missed as Daryl pushed Dan into Len and knocked him down. Joe fired again, this time grazing Daryl, but by then Daryl had managed to dive down and tank Len back into him, serving as a new human shield.

“Dick move, asshole!” Joe bellowed, shoving the gun against our head again. You struggled against him, but you couldn’t break free.

“Just evening out the odds.” Daryl said as he dragged Len back to his feet and kept the knife pressed to his neck.

“Well I guess there’s only one way for this to end.” Joe said.

“Your brains soakin’ in the dirt?” Daryl taunted.

“Somebody’s brains for sure, but not mine.” Joe threatened.

With timing running out and desperation overwhelming him, Daryl finally relented.

“Alright.” Daryl said. “Let her go and I’ll let him go. Take it out on me.”

“Drop the knife first.” Joe demanded. Daryl complied, strategically tossing the knife too far away for Len to grab it before he let Len go. Len stumbled forward, having grown dizzy from the chokehold Daryl kept him in. Joe, keeping one hand on the collar if your shirt to hold you still, used the gun to motion Len to the side.

“Move, Len. It’s time to finish this.” He said.

“Nah. Wasn’t the deal.” Daryl argued.

Both men seemed breathless at this point, worn out from the lengthy struggle to maintain power over the other.

“Well, I like to say I’m a man of my word but… You killed two of my men tonight and for that someone must pay.” Joe informed him.

“Yeah, me.” Daryl insisted.

“Precisely, actually. First, you’re gonna watch her die. Then, I’m gonna kill you. Two for two.” Joe said, as a matter of fact.

“That ain’t gon’ work.” Daryl shook his head.

“Well the way I see it ya ain’t got much of a choice.” Joe chuckled in disbelief.

“There’s always a choice.” You finally chimed in, using Daryl’s distraction as your chance to fight. In a swift motion you turned and bit down on Joe’s neck, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could. Eventually your teeth met, slicing through the flesh. You pulled back, ripping a chunk out of Joe’s neck.

In his shock and agony, he squeeze the trigger, firing a round into Len’s shoulder just before Daryl rushed over to you and tackled Joe to the ground. As Joe gasped and reached for the gushing wound in his neck, Daryl gripped either side of his head and twisted. A loud crack sounded and Joe was lifeless.

Len, in one last effort to avenge his friends, charged after you and Daryl. Daryl grabbed a large stone and smashed it into Len’s skull. Len fell back, and Daryl straddled him, bringing the same heavy Rick down repeatedly until Len no longer resembled a human being.

Daryl slumped in top of the dead man, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he caught up with his breaths.

You sat in shock for a time, eyes glued to Daryl. Eventually, his head turned a little, and you could see his eyes peeking back at you through the mop of sweat drenched hair.

Slowly, he lifted himself up to his feet and stumbled away from the carnage, running a hand through his hair as he came to terms with what he’d had to do. What you both had to do. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles, images of beating a man to death repeating in his psyche.

Suddenly, his eyes broiled with rage as he looked back at you.

“This is what ya want? Huh? Is this the kinda man you wanna love?” He spat.

Shakily, you stood up and stared at him with eyes as round as saucers. The taste of blood still coated the inside of your mouth and dropped down your chin. Bits of flesh were noticeably lodged between your teeth. Your lip quivered as you held your hands out and looked down at your red-soaked clothes. Daryl then realized that he wasn’t the only one who had to be a monster. He wasn’t the only one who had to cope with such heinous actions.

If you could do the things he could do in order to survive, maybe those things weren’t as unforgivable as he’d thought. Maybe it could be forgiven, maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. His eyes softened a little as your eyes welled with tears, a shudder washing over you as you gagged.

You were disgusted with what you’d done. Horrified by the violence and gore. As if the events that led you to the Claimers in the first place weren’t bad enough, you were utterly traumatized.

He walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, hoping to ground you as his rage and terror simmered down.

“I — I” You struggled to speak, short quick breaths quickly evolving into a panic attack.

“You had to.” He assured you. You tried to nod, frantic and uncoordinated as the discomfort and sensory overload set in. You could taste blood and flesh, your clothes were sticky, everything smelled like death. Rapidly, you began slapping your hands against your body and attempted to wipe away all the gore. Firmly, yet still ever so gentle, Daryl’s hands wrapped around your wrists to hold you still. “Breathe.” He urged you. “It’s gon’ be alright. We can head back to that pond we passed earlier, get cleaned up.”

“I — I don’t — I don’t — I can’t —“ You began to sob, trembling as you tried to communicate through struggled breaths and hit tears.

“Breathe.” He cooed. “Slow down.”

“I can’t change.” You cried. “I don’t have clothes I can’t change.”

It might have seemed silly, but he understood. You were distressed and covered in the aftermath of something straight out of a horror film. You probably couldn’t think of anything other than getting the disturbing remnants of your attackers off of you.

“We’ll find ya some. Promise.” He assured you. “Let’s just go. I got your bag.”

It took the better half of an hour to calm you down to a point where you could travel. The pond was only a thirty minute hike back the way you came that day. There, you surrendered to the water, sinking into it fully clothed. You sat down and hugged your knees to your chest, distant and out of touch. Daryl couldn’t witness your unraveling for very long before he stepped in.

He kicked off his boots, peeled his dirty socks from his clammy skin, and rolled his jeans up before he waded in the water to meet you. Tenderly, he scooped water in his hands and trickled it over your head, dampening your hair enough to stub the grime away. His hands worked to wipe away the dried blood from your neck and shoulders. When you made no move to pick up where he left off, he went ahead and cleaned your face too.

You were completely catatonic. He pulled you to your feet and wordlessly guided you back to shore. He then removed his shirt and motioned for you to do the same. You finally let your eyes meet his, questioning him with your gaze.

“Your clothes are all wet. Take my shirt.” He insisted. With no energy to argue, you complied. You tossed your shirt to the side and replaced it with his. It hung down just past your butt. “Should cover ya up good. Wanna let your pants dry too? I’ll wash ‘em for ya.”

Grateful for the kindness, you stepped out of your jeans and handed them over.

“Go on an’ get the fire started.” He instructed softly. Thoughtlessly, you did so, while he scrubbed away at your clothes in the pond. When the fire was burning, you settled against a tree and hugged yourself, knees brought to your chest. When Daryl fit your clothes hung up to fry near the fire, he sat beside you and studied you.

Unable to ignore his presence, you looked over at him.

Two broken souls, horrified with the things they’d seen and done, just staring at each other.

Finally, Daryl scooted you forward from the tree trunk and slid in behind you, pulling you back into his bare chest and hugging you tightly. You easily melted into his embrace, allowing the awful pit in your gut to ease up a little.

“Gon’ and get some sleep.” He whispered into your hair. “I’ll watch over ya.”

That was the first night either of you truly let your guard down and allowed each other to care. From then on, there was no need to wonder. He kept you near him as much as he could, and you never strayed too far from him. Small grazes and lingering affectionate gazed slowly evolved into warm embraces and tender touches.

It wasn’t easy after that. Not by a long shot. You were both still learning to love. You were codependent and moody, Daryl was withdrawn and temperamental. The path to happiness for the two of you would be a rougher travel than most. You’d fight, swear you’ll never talk to each other again, and wind up right back by each others side. The cycle would continue for years to come, until you both grew older and calmer and found peace with each other. This would be around the time Daryl finally left his camp in the woods after Rick blew up the bridge. You’d go on to fight every battle with him.

You both would learn how to care for each other, all your little quirks and triggers. You’d be perfect for each other, because you’d both have to evolve in order to make the other happy. You’d finally be able to live and be loved the way you’d always imagined. Daryl would experience true partnership for the first time.

You’d often joke about it. Having to go through so much trauma just to open up to each other. You’d laugh about all the stubborn fights and petty squabbles. None of them would matter in the end, because you’d always have each other.

Might write an alternate version of this one. Unsure. Went in a whole different direction than I planned 😅

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey

[xxrainbowvibezxx]

May we never forgot that Mileena spent the whole of MK11 looking for Tanya, only to find out that she was dead. Then switched her mission to finding her body (presumably for her own reasons, possibly to attempt to resurrect her? I mean, we saw that she has access to the Flesh Pits in her MK11 ending. So, who's to say that she wouldn't have tried?)

On top of that, her actively rewriting history to make Rain the villain that sold her out, despite Tanya selling out Rain in MKX to save herself and unintentionally Mileena, since she led D'Vorah directly to their camp via Cassie. Then deliberately manipulating time to ensure that she gets her happy ending(which involves her and Tanya together raising a baby).

This girl was down so horrendous for another woman that she was willing to actively ignore and overlook her reputation as a traitor. All out of the hope that maybe, just maybe, Tanya could look past her reputation too. Tanya was a monster in her own right, but so is she as well.

(Someone stop her, she's thinking about doomed sapphic couples again.)

I will never forget how badly Mileena wanted to find Tanya in Mk11. Mileena wanted answers, and no one would tell her anything. I still think about the hurt in her voice during some of her intros about Tanya. I think Taleena is doomed in every timeline.

In Mkx, Tanya rescued Mileena from prison and stayed by her side during the rebellion. And then, Mileena dies.

In mk11, Mileena comes back, but Tanya is dead. Mileena ends up bringing Tanya back with the hourglass and has a kid with her. (Technically, all of the endings are canon because of the alternate timeline thing.)

In mk1, They're both alive and well, but their relationship is forbidden, and Mileena has tarkat.

Something I really love about Taleena is that no matter what the circumstances are, Tanya never shied away from Mileena. It's a reoccurring thing that happens in each timeline. Mileena's reputation before mk1 was that she was a horrible, monstrous clone of Kitana, created by Shang Tsung. Nearly everybody hated her for what she was. But Tanya frees her, helps her, and develops a relationship with her. In mk1, Tanya knows and understands how risky it is to be with Mileena (the umgadi rules and tarkat), but still chooses to be with her.

Also, for mkx, Tanya is known for being treacherous. That's her reputation. Mileena isn't stupid. She can be a bit naive sometimes, but she's not stupid. I'm pretty sure she knew the type of person Tanya was and still decided to keep her by her side and even promised her a free Edenia. Tanya had every chance to betray Mileena at any time, but I believe that Tanya really believed that Mileena would kill kotal and rule Outworld. They both overlooked each other's reputations and fell in love.

I think Mileena fell for Tanya first, and Tanya decided to go along with it, but eventually, she falls harder for Mileena. They are always down bad for each other.

[daboyau]

Asking some writers/artists I follow:

Is there anything in your fic/comic that you as the author know about, but won't end up in the actual story?

@friendlyneighborhoodterrapin oohhhh I love this question!! It is so fun. You always have the best asks. 💚💚💚

so I am going to take this time to ramble about both The Rise Hunger Games AU and the Leave AU. I tried to avoid any big spoilers but no guarantees!

RHG au: 

Okay so for a while there I was totally delusional and convinced myself I’d write a full length fic focusing on each individual brother. I had names and a very very brief plot for each. This is 100% not happening, so I’m going to share those names. They were actually supposed to reflect the previous brother who had gone before them. (Which is partially why Donnie, who is after Raph, has the fic title ‘Turning a New Shade of Red’)

Turning a new shade of red(donnie)

Shadows of us are still dancing(leo)

Coming like a storm into your town (mikey)

We don’t burn the way you’d expect (raph)

So this isn’t totally canon so much as just a fun little thing I have in mind when writing, but you might occasionally see brief mentions of a failed uprising/attempted rebellion. This is a reference to the Hunger Games canon books, but like an au where they failed really early on and the rebellion never got off the ground. This won’t have any bearing on the story but it’s just a fun little background thing I think about sometimes and call it the secret timeline. Canon THG characters will continue to never be mentioned or important to the story lol. 

Talk of SA here but.

Okay so you remember how Finnick was getting pimped out in the original Hunger Games? That is definitely happening. Nothing will ever be explicit but you’ll notice little things mentioned offhandedly, like how Yoshi refuses to let Raph come to the Capitol after he turns 18, or how Cassandra’s victor ceremony really put an emphasis on her transition to womanhood, so on and so forth…. And Yoshi’s whole…everything before he returned to District 4. It’s another way to show how the Capitol views their victors as commodities and playthings. A lot of interactions Donnie and his fellow tributes/past victors have with people from the Capitol are meant to make readers feel at least vaguely uncomfortable. (Iiiif I’m doing it right.)

Leave AU: 

Okay so in this AU, despite living with Draxum and getting training, they aren’t doing much with mystics. Why? Because right now Draxum is focusing more on teaching them ways to develop and deepen their mystic reserves as opposed to actually using them. (Think meditation and katas and stuff like that.) This is for a couple reasons. One, because he believes they’re too young to be able to safely handle that sort of power. Two, because it’s a power and control thing. Three, because he needs them to store up as much mystics as possible so they can recover when he extracts the mutagen/empyrean from their blood. This might get mentioned eventually in the fic, but basically they go through these monthly/bi-weekly blood draws because the compound they were created with is naturally occurring within them, so Draxum essentially has an unlimited (if slow to harvest) supply of it on hand to experiment with. (Hope that made sense!)

Fun fact, Draxum actually had a lot of potential to be a really good parent in this AU. It’s mentioned sometimes, how he was strict but kind and gentle with them when they were younger. This is because at first, he really did intend to raise them differently after he realized he’d made a miscalculation in mutating babies instead of ready-to-go older warriors. So he was reading them bedtime stories and tucking them in and allowing them to have toys, even though he did want to start training them as warriors once they reached teenage/adulthood. In this AU, though, the counsel of heads decided to take more of an interest in his work than they do in canon and start applying a lot of pressure on him to produce results. So his long term project had to shift gears and become more focused on results instead of childrearing much sooner than he would have wanted. He’s doing it for the good of all yokaikind, though, so even though he may not like it he is able to be cold and distant with his children experiments and view them mainly as weapons. 

Draxum absolutely has a favorite kid. I have many thoughts and reasons for this that I am resisting the urge to ramble about here. (Luckily @boots-with-the-fur-club lets me ramble to her when I need to get it out of my system!) So in order of most to least favorite, it is:

Four

Two

One

Three

[arolock]

Rick C-137 timeline (+lil piece of theory in the end)

Recently I was thinking about Rick C-137 and Rick Prime's differences and similarities, and tried to tie everything that we know for sure about Rick C-137 into a linear timeline. I decided to pick points that have at least two confirmations to avoid misleads, especially since we can't fully rely on memories being intact and truthful, so that's what I have left:

• Rick C-137 meets Rick Prime (memories from s3ep1 and s5ep10, confirmed by the garage hologram in s6ep1)

• Rick Prime offers Rick C-137 something while holding a portal gun and Rick C-137 refuses the offer (memories from s3ep1 and s5ep10, the event itself was cofirmed by the garage hologram in s6ep1, but the full conversation wasn't)

• C-137 Diane and Beth are killed (memories from s3ep1, s5ep8, s5ep10, the event is confirmed by garage AI in s6ep1 and Rick himself in s6ep1, s5ep8)

• Rick C-137 meets Birdperson and Squanchy, forms a band, starts a rebellion against Federation, offers Birdperson an iterdimensional travel, first time openly expresses his infamous 'nothing matters' mindset and his opinion on dimensions being replaceable, but nonetheless admits that a certain version of a person still matters, gets rejected by Birdperson and leaves (s2ep6, s2ep10, Birdperson memories in s5ep8, Rick's memories in s5ep10)

• All Dianes are killed across infinity, which is confirmed by s7ep5. EXACT TIMING AND POSITION ON THE TIMELINE IS UNKOWN, but Beth Prime was old enough to not be sent to a foster family

• Rick C-137 meets baby Morty (memories in s1ep10, but later confirmed by a photo in s2ep5)

After this we have a time gap until Rick arrives to the Prime dimension, and then we basically follow Rick around, so there is no need to pinpoint everything, I'll just cover the basics

• Rick C-137 comes to Beth's Prime home when she's grown up and has kids (still unknown how long he has been there at the start of the s1ep1, at least a few months 'cause he already made Morty miss an entire semester of school, but not long enough to form any bonds with anyone in the family except Morty)

• Rick C-137 and Prime Morty switch dimensions for the first time, Rick never comes back for the rest of Prime family, Rick expresses his views on multiverse, dimensions hopping and everyone being replaceable (s1ep6)

• Evil Morty hacks Rick C-137 gun, sets him up, captures him and takes his memories (s1ep10) // by the way, I doubt that you can hack one's portal gun from a different dimension, so... But let's leave it at that

• Birdperson is "killed", Earth is invaded, but Rick doesn't immediately switch dimensions (s2ep10)

• Federation and Citadel are destroyed (s3ep1)

• Citadel is restored, Evil Morty gets elected as the President (s3ep7)

• Central Finite Curve is destroyed, all Rick's origin revealed to Morty via memory forcefully extracted by Evil Morty (s5ep10)

• Everybody get sent to their home dimension, Beth gets a confirmation by Summer that Rick C-137 and Morty Prime are not her original father and son, Morty Prime openly disowns Rick Prime, Rick C-137 stops his hunt for Prime to get back to the family with Morty Prime, family reunites and switches dimensions together (s6ep1)

• Rick claims that he starts to hunt for Rick Prime again and during his rant says something quite peculiar: "That's what happens when you let people in and they stop respecting you. They touch your shit, they screw things up, they kill your fucking family" (s6ep10) //uh oh, seems someone put their trust in a wrong Rick

• Prime Hunt ends with his murder and Evil Morty getting his hands on the Omega device (s7ep5).

If you have anything to add or correct, feel free to do so.

Also I'd love to read some theories on any questionable points of this timeline, especially on the timing of Diane's death.

My guess is that after Rick got rejected by BP, he went downhill and eventually ended in Prime dimension around the time Morty was a baby. In attempt to spite Rick Prime or bait him, and maybe trying to fully accept nihilistic views on the concept of multiverse and it's inhabitants that were forced on him, Rick tried to reconnect with Diane Prime, and, eventually, Beth. Rick Prime got pissed that C-137 touched his shit and tried to play home again, so he kidnapped both Rick and Diane, and then used Diane Prime to run the Omega device. Then he probably wiped Beth and Jerry's memories of Rick C-137 ever coming back, just to rub it in.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #75: Rhaegar Wins, but make it Le Morte d'Arthur

Having done two takes on what can roughly be called Lancelot-Guinevere AUs where things end more or less well for our heroes, I thought: why not go all out? why not have the affair be the downfall of the Targaryen Dynasty?

Or: What if Jon Snow, the infamous bastard son of King Rhaegar, had an affair with his aunt, Princess Daenerys?

Aka: The Duncan the Damned Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon until the Battle of the Trident, during which Prince Rhaegar slays Robert Baratheon in single combat, ending the rebellion. He leads his forces and those of the rebels who submit to him against his father in King's Landing - and is forced to kill the Mad King when he calls for the wildfire caches to be lit. Although everyone agrees he did the right thing, he's forever known as Rhaegar the Kinslayer and many whisper his line is cursed.

Ned Stark is severely injured trying to rescue Robert at the Trident and as such is unable to retrieve Lyanna from the Tower of Joy. Rhaegar sends Prince Lewyn instead...

...who returns with his three brothers-in-arms, a baby boy, and the bones of the King's paramour. It's hard to say which of the latter the King is most angry about. In the end he orders a great mausoleum built over the Dragonpit to house Lyanna's bones and leaves the raising of the bastard to his mother.

Dowager Queen Rhaella is thrilled to have another child to raise, regardless of how the babe came about. (She's less thrilled her son is so disinterested in the boy that it falls to her to name the child over half-a-year after his birth; she calls him Duncan, after her favorite uncle.) She raises Dany and Duncan together until Dany is old enough to be brought to court... and Duncan stays in more or less exile with his grandmother in the shadow of Summerhall as builders work to return he castle to its former glory.

Duncan is raised to knighthood by Oswell Whent, Rhaella's protector and lover during her self-imposed exile. While he does the job as well any could hope, he teaches young Duncan that getting the job done is more important than how you do it - in short, that gallantry is all well and good, but it's better to be dishonorable and alive than dead with a song.

And so the bastard prince who visits at the Red Keep for the first time in 298 has more in line with The Rogue Prince than any of his Stark forbearers. He's dashing, daring, and dangerous - the exact opposite of his half-brother Aegon, who is gallant and chivalrous and brave, but decidedly lacking the bad boy aura.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar hasn't given up on his prophesy. Deciding that his sister Daenerys must be the third head of the dragon, he arranges for Aegon to wed both his sister Rhaenys and aunt Daenerys, which causes many a discontent murmur.

Having been spoon-fed prophesy since birth, Aegon goes willingly along with his father's plan, but Rhaenys is less eager to be one of a pair of sister-queens and Dany...

...well, Dany takes one look at her bastard nephew, so different from his brother, and fancies herself in love.

Duncan for his part is more than a little peeved that his goodie-two-shoes half-brother gets all their father's attention and two royal wives. He choses to pursue Dany as much to get one over on the family that ignored him as any lust he may feel.

Dany and Duncan carry on an affair that is as much passion as it is destruction. It is deeply unhealthy for everyone involved and hits every unhealthy relationship milestone, from Duncan flirting with Rhaenys to make Dany jealous to Dany poisoning herself to get Duncan's attention back and blaming her rivals.

This manages to go on for about five years without anyone too important finding out - though Rhaenys suspects and at least one member of the court attempted to blackmail Duncan over it before succumbing to an accident - when several things happen all at once:

Dany and Rhaenys announce they're finally pregnant within several weeks of each other. Rhaenys gives birth first, to a pair of stillborn abominations with wings. Dany gives birth a short time later to a child that has such Stark looks its impossible to deny his parentage.

An argument breaks out between Aegon, Rhaegar, and Duncan which quickly grows heated. At the end of it Rhaegar lies dead, with no one quite sure whether Aegon or Duncan had landed the fatal blow. The brothers point fingers at each other and order the other jailed for kingslaying.

Things very quickly break down into civil war as both brothers vie for the crown. Duncan manages to hold King's Landing, but Aegon has Dragonstone and superiority of numbers. Even so, Duncan is ruthless and cunning enough that he just might be able to pull off a victory-

-or would have, if Dany didn't start working at cross purposes to him, their relationship very quickly falling apart without the danger and excitement to hold them together. Dany ends up betraying King's Landing to Aegon's forces during a siege, fully expecting to be reinstated as Aegon's second queen after the war ends. Duncan is killed in the fighting and Dany is executed for treason and adultery. Their son, Daeron, is kept as a hostage until he's old enough to be sent to the Wall.

Aegon manages to hold onto the throne for the rest of his life, but he's faced with more outbreaks of rebellion as people finally rebel against House Targaryen, their wars, and the taxes they've leveed to pay for those wars. What's more, Rhaenys never manages to give birth to a living child (some claiming poison, others claiming inbreeding), so that his only heir is his bastard nephew - who quite simply vanishes from the record before his tenth birthday. (Many historians believe he was killed, but there is a strong King Under the Mountain mythology that grows up around him.)

House Targaryen eventually collapses - not with a bang, but a whimper - when Aegon dies in his mid-30s after choking on a fishbone. Rhaenys tries to hold the throne in her own right, but years of fruitless childbirths has wreaked her health and she's very quickly captured, imprisoned, and quietly killed. The Seven Kingdoms eventually devolve into seven separate kingdoms, not to be reunited for another five hundred years.

Bonuses include: 1) Something fatalistic running throughout the narrative, with Rhaegar planning his whole life for an apocalypse that doesn't come - and allowing everything his house built to come to ruin; 2) The full gambit of toxic relationships, including but not limited to: Rhaegar treating Aegon from a young age as a hero in waiting who can do no wrong, Rhaegar treating Duncan as irrelevant to the plot for not being born a girl, and Dany and Duncan's deeply unhealthy romance; and 3) There being a moment after Aegon captures King's Landing where it's possible for Duncan to escape with his son and live to fight another day and in that same moment realizing Dany betrayed him... and rather than choosing to escape, is killed trying to get back into the Red Keep to kill the mother of his child.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Black Prince | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Duncan the Damned | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Lord Protector | Maekar the Maester | People's Queen | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Weirwood Queen | Wolf Queen

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[thepersona]

Under the Queen's Umbrella: Thoughts on episodes 9-10 (spoilers!)

Another unwanted post with crappy screen grabs. Spoiler alert! I think I have to separate this post by issue / arc to keep it somewhat organized.

================================================

Queen Hwaryeong & the King vs. the Dowager:

We see the aftermath of the iconic cuckoo pint gift/threat. The Queen shows the King proof that the Dowager was behind the assassination attempt on Grand Prince Seongnam, and the Dowager supposedly poisons herself with the plant the Queen gave her to force a kind of stalemate on the issue. Again, the acting between the two ladies is ridiculously good.

I never expected to like the King, but I started to admire him this week. He believed the Queen right away, and lightly told her off about the plant thing, not because she could have killed his mother but because it delayed bringing the Dowager to face justice even more. Their dynamic is so intriguing I'd love to know more especially since they've given us another flashback of Hwaryeong as Crown Princess.

Let's talk about that flashback and the rumor about Seongnam's parentage. If the rumor is what gives the Dowager whatever power over the Queen then should we think that there must be some truth to it? (Was it just me or did they pay attention to the baby's birthmark?) Or does it have something to do with conceiving during the time of mourning? I need more details!

Here's a theory, though I'm probably wrong. What if the Dowager hired someone to take advantage of the young Crown Princess while her husband was in mourning and inaccessible? And that incident resulted in the conception of Seongnam? After rewatching ep 9, I was so intrigued that the King's first reaction was to stop the rumors to protect his wife rather than interrogate her. So that tells us that he knows the truth. Either Seongnam really is his kid but conceived at the wrong time, or he found out what happened and decided to recognize Seongnam as his own. This would also explain the Queen's motivation to set up the women's shelter by the time she was pregnant with Grand Prince Muan. And my gosh that shelter and that flashback! (I'm not one for slapping scenes but I admit the justice is satisfying)

I still enjoy the chess motif. I love that no matter how brilliant Hwaryeong is, she still makes less than ideal decisions and reveals more than I care for tbh. I love how she finds a way to get her enemies to stab each other in the back (and front lol). She knows that the Hwangs are nowhere near as shrewd as the Dowager, who would never put all of her eggs in the same basket (I love that about the Dowager btw).

I also like her silent teamwork with the King, who's been making subtle but effective moves to keep the contest fair and delay a rebellion at the same time (!) He has to maintain the illusion of being helpless but when he takes a step it always seems to count.

Meanwhile the Queen is steering Minister Yoon to her side. This makes me even more curious about that request that the deposed Queen Yoon will make that Hwaryeong won't be able to refuse. My guess is that it has to do with getting revenge on the Dowager and the King.

The Contest:

We've all known from the get-go that Seongnam, Bogeom, and Uiseong would be the final three so no surprise there. We all knew Uiseong is a murderous a-hole and I enjoyed him being told off by the King. His choice to prioritize the contest over keeping the peace should have been grounds for disqualification, not to mention the assassination attempt against GP Gyeseong.

I like the bond building between Seongnam and Bogeom, especially when the latter refused to use the intel his mother gave him. I swear Consort Tae has much to learn from her son, she's going to get him killed if she keeps this up. I have a feeling that if Bogeom becomes Crown Prince, then he would most likely end up dead. I'm afraid Uiseong might kill him while Seongnam and the Queen (who would have to give up her title) are indisposed. All the more likely if it turns out that Uiseong has no relation to the King or if he goes against the Dowager.

I never cared for the romantic storylines, but I see why they are necessary here. Cheongha comes off a little stalkery and desperate at the moment but I see how she can be an asset to the Queen's cause once they officially meet. She's resourceful and bold, two characteristics the Queen definitely values. As for Muan and Cho-wol, the fated-from-the-womb cliché wasn't my thing but at least it gave us some insight into the women's shelter. I'm not interested in how it will end happily for them, but I did enjoy this scene (Hwaryeong's face lol).

I'm just glad Ilyoung and Hodong are okay, tbh. Let the babies have their food trip and everything will be fine.

Motherhood:

The show has such a nuanced depiction of motherhood. Instead of rose-colored glasses, we get a kaleidoscope. We have Hwaryeong who represents the modern ideal despite all her flaws. But we're also presented with other perspectives that are realistic and relatable. This week shed more light on the relationship between Consort Ko and Prince Simso. His early signs of intelligence fueled her (projected) ambitions, which in turn have led her to push her son to vie for a position that he never wanted and neglect his overall well-being. It's all too real y'all.

Despite her actions and corrosive words towards him, not even the Queen doubts Consort Ko's love for Simso. But it only goes to show that maternal love can manifest in different and potentially harmful ways. It's something that the Queen herself has to control, even if her nagging comes from a place of worry for her children's lives. I love everything about the whole drinking / magic cup scene, which also tells me that Muan and Cho-wol are endgame because the Queen will eventually allow it.

I know we won't be stanning Consort Ko anytime soon but I wouldn't wish death upon someone who knows how to right her wrongs. Woo Jeong-won's acting was amazing this week, btw. She really made the most of her screen time. You know it's good writing when you can sympathize with a character who's done some detestable things. (I've been trying to gif this scene but I don't know the best way to cut it because it says so much with no dialogue!?!)

I get that her helping Gyeseong was thanks to Hwaryeong saving Simso but you gotta admit it felt so good to see Consort Hwang demoted!

TLDR: It's still really good. Can't wait til Saturday to know more about the Prince Seongnam situation.

[lazywriters-blog]

LOVE HOTEL

YANDERE KAMISATO AYATO

Synopsis: Ayato suggests that you two go to a love hotel, for just an experience, he said. [Modern AU]

Warning: May contain triggering content, implied sexual content, slight nudity, non-consensual touching, and a lot of underlying yandereness. Errors might be present, please do not mind them, enjoy!

He insisted it would be a favorable ordeal.

Just two colleagues wanting to experience some friendly intimacy, denial was at the tip of her tongue when he first mentioned it, his persuasive strategy is what had caused her to stand in front of the hotel, just wondering, how she consented and let him paddle the way. Running away didn't seem like a plausible alternative, now that he has her hand in a rigid clasp, gently dragging her inside.

It felt deplorable standing at the counter, with her behind him while he paid the sum in full, requesting a room, smiling at the employee with him still holding onto her wrist.

The pathway to their room was a fragment she'd find hard to forget, the few odd sounds here and there invaded her thoughts, the bright and cheerful place seeming like it was hiding something dark, she spoke in an attempt to get him to let her go.

While he paced ahead without a concern.

"Um... Can we go back, please? This place is making me uncomfortable." She timidly asked, dully aiming to pull her arm back, he didn't approve of her rebellion at the moment, replying with a stern tone.

"We've barely scratched the surface. Why return now after we decided we would do nothing more than view the place and leave." He side-eyed her, a smirk stretching once he connected the dots after seeing her face.

"If you are concerned about those noises, pay them no mind. I assure you, I have nothing of that sort planned." He replied.

"N-no I wasn't thinking about that, this seems like a place we shouldn't be, you know?"

He laughed, unable to mull over her words as they arrived at the room they were given the key to, the deluxe edition, it reads, unlocking the door and stepping in.

She breathed in the soft floral scent of lavender, pleasantly cold and commodious, the king-sized bed had a few towels and a booklet for some of the... More interesting items, she looked away, anxious and hyper to flee, if someone saw them, she wouldn't know how to deal with the rumours that will inevitably spread.

"Ahh!" Ayato mouthed, she jumped, glancing toward the male surveying the elegant ropes, muttering, "interesting..."

"Can we leave? We saw what it looks like, isn't that enough?" She pressured, nervously gazing at the many bounds he took out, he stared at her, saying, "most certainly not, there's much to explore, my dear friend."

She widened her eyes, advancing back, he appeared like he was enjoying her enactment, chuckling at her nonplused expression. She shortly asked, "what if someone saw us?" Worried by the amount of snooping questions she'll get if it ends up being the outcome.

"Please, I'm certain they will leave us alone. Besides, if that does happen, it will be... Interesting." He mused, curiously darting towards the closet and studying provided items, she stood, dumbfounded by his comeback but it wasn't unpredictable.

"For a top student, you sure do like to get into trouble. Whatever it is, leave me out of this." She said, hoping that it would yield her freedom, however, he promptly got up while holding a soft piece of fabric. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Would you like to try this on?" He sang with a devilish smirk, she swallowed, glancing at the beautiful mirror to the right, the bra seemed pretty expensive and new, baby blue in hue and petite design.

"No, that's too... Revealing." She sheepishly finished. She shouldn't have eluded his gaze at the last moment.

"That's true. How about this night grown?" He said, showing a silky white short dress, with thin straps, she involuntarily shivered, shaking her head and saying, "we are not going to stay the night." She surmised, he grinned along tossing the lingerie onto the puffy mattress.

"Give me the keys, I'm leaving." She firmly stated, he shushed her, smiling at her amusing expressions, "please calm yourself, we are merely here to try these things out, you wouldn't waste the money I've spent, now would you?" He replied, thinking guilt-tripping her would suffice.

"I don't want to but I'm not comfortable. Would you please give me the keys?"

"Okay, I will, when you try this out?" He playfully taunted, moving the fabric closer to her, she stepped back, beginning her futile experiment at making him take back his words.

"I said no, can we leave?" She answered.

"Come on now, don't be that way. I promise I'll let you go after you've tried this on." He gently pressured her, and she waived, taking the textile and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Oh! And, please do show them to me before you leave." He announced as she lowered her bra straps.

"I will not!!" She retorted.

"Do remember I have the keys."

She groaned, looking herself in the mirror, entertaining the idea of sitting in the bathroom so she could pass time and thwart her friend, upon making herself feel safe by the wall, he seems to have conjectured her course of avoidance, as he loudly knocked on the door.

"You can't stay in there forever you know. The faster you come, the sooner we can go home."

She gulped, pursuing her lips and moving forward, repenting her indigent decision.

She opened the door.

Bending her head, glancing anywhere but his observing eyes, despite shunning the odd sensation it increased, his gaze was glued on her frame.

He smiled.

"You look beautiful." He confessed, emerging from his seat and drawing near her before she can gather her thoughts and step away.

"Although, you haven't quite tied the straps right, are you shy? We've been friends for so long, I thought we were long past that stage." He mumbled, close to her face, just an inch more and they could kiss.

"Are you perhaps denying the facts?" He whispered, slowly snaking his arms against her waist, getting her adjusted to his hold, pressing his fingers into her warm flesh, securing her in his grasp.

"We both have feelings for each other, it's undeniable. We care for one another more than we let on."

"Isn't that right?" He tenderly kissed her cheek.

He eventually relaxed his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in and out, caressing her sides, and then he grumbled, "you like suppressing a lot of things."

She froze.

"Would you mind indulging me in those?"

He griped, unclipping her bra.

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[banrionceallach]

Because I cannot watch sad canon without immediately producing a fix-it in my brain, please imagine the following scenario. Ben Kenobi is so close to getting little Leia home, but things have gone wrong and they’re surrounded by inquisitors. Darth Vader is on the way and it really does look like this situation is the fail cherry on the shit cake of Ben’s life.

Then. Sudden crackle in the air, the force does the equivalent of a massive dry heave and spits out Jedi Master Luke, New Republic Senator Leia and General/Captain Han Solo. (I forget his rebel rank in ROTJ) They are maybe five years after the successful defeat of the empire and they are very confused at suddenly being here.

The result is them sizing up the situation in a microsecond and the trio absolutely going to town on the inquisitors while Ben watches and tries to cover baby Leia’s eyes. 

Third Sister is the only survivor. She cuts her losses because fuck it she didn’t sign up for this kind of nonsense and just barely escapes with her life.

They all end up on the ship Ben had been going to use to get baby Leia home and try to work out what the frack is going on. The trio make only the most cursory attempt to hide their identities before giving up and explaining who they are. Ben can tell they are who they say they are because Force Stuff. Little Leia discovers she has a twin brother and wants to go see him now! Ben just barely manages not to cave immediately to her demands.

Also:

bb!Leia: so . . . my birth dad was a jedi. And you trained him?

Ben, solemnly, heavy with guilt: Yes.

bb!Leia, in a tone of excited discovery: so you really are my grandfather! *cue hug tackle*

Ben: *pats her awkwardly on the head, then gives that up and hugs back. Tries & fails not to silently cry*

bb!Leia, vibrating: Can we go to tatooine now?! I want to meet my brother and his family!

Adult luke, awkwardly: hmm yes we probably should go and see them, we’ve got to prevent them getting murdered by storm troopers-

Ben, hyperventilating and experiencing yet another Skywalker induced heart attack, because bb!Luke was supposed to be safe on tatooine right now: Wait what?!

Adult luke, hurriedly: - in nine years! In nine years!

After this Ben decides he’s just gonna . . . lie here on the floor for a bit, okay everybody? 

bb!Leia helps by dropping a blanket directly onto his face. There’s a muffled thank you from beneath it. Ben does not change position.

Side note: Han did not recognise Ben as Luke’s Old Ben at first. He flirted. Obi-Wan reflexively flirted back. There is a shared moment of horror between the twins who are confused but did recognise Ben immediately. Neither of them wants to be the one to tell Han.

Han, upon the realisation sinking in: shit the old man used to be hot!

Ben, nonplussed, still on the floor, face still under bb!Leia’s blanket: what.

(Senator Leia to Ben slightly later, paraphrased: Get in loser, we’re speed-running the rebellion.

Eighteen months later, Palpatine is dead, Anakin has a comfy jail cell, extensive reconstructive surgery, painkillers and a lot of therapy. Adult Luke visits him a lot. After a while Obi-Wan does too.) 

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[tiesthatbind-tf]

I accidentally deleted 2000 words of story for poor Soundwave last night and had to rewrite everything but tbh, they’re absolutely worthit.  Their armor definitely makes me want to experiment with Celtic motifs for Hot Rod!

Full story below.

Suraya Widodo was born to parents Wijaya and Ni Made Saraswati on the island of Madura, Indonesia. They noticed that something didn’t quite seem right with their baby, who was fussier than most, threw fits when brought into crowded spaces and seemed mostly lost in their own thoughts, though this did little to dampen their love.

The name ‘Widodo’ (healthy) was given to Suraya (despite the masculine nature of it, which does lend to Suraya’s nonchalance about their gender in later years) in hopes that they would grow up alright despite their quirks.

Wijaya, a fisherman who wanted to give his family a better life in the more industrialized town of Bangkalan west of the island, pushed himself hard at his work, hoping to earn enough to allow them to settle down there comfortably.

He began to risk venturing out into ocean areas which were occasionally used as smuggling routes where more lucrative catches laid, careful to fish there during specific times to the day to avoid crossing paths with pirates and smugglers.

However, his luck ran out one day when a smuggling vessel came across him in broad daylight and silenced him from alerting the coast guards to their existence with five shots.

Suraya was five.

Saraswati, desperate to find a way to care for her child as the new breadwinner thought she had gotten lucky when a job scouter for a factory in Bangkalan came to the village. They were looking to offer work to single mothers as part of their corporate responsibility programme and extended the offer of employment to her and promised a hostel and training so she wasn’t out of her depth in the assembly line.

Seeing it as the best option, she left Suraya with her husband’s family while she worked and lived in a worker’s hostel on weekdays and returned to see Suraya every weekend.

She would give money to the family to care for Suraya in her absence, which was crucial since they weren’t fond of Saraswati (they had not agreed to Wijaya’s marriage) and found Suraya’s odd behavior off-putting and claims of ‘hearing voices’ potentially a sign of mental illness (which was fodder for them to demand even more money from Saraswati with the excuse that Suraya was a handful).

This routine continued until Saraswati was suddenly killed in a factory accident.

Suraya was nine.

The compensation for Saraswati’s death was enough for the family for only a few months and after it dried up, the neglect and abuse began. Though at times it was odd because Suraya seemed to know when they were in a bad mood and when they were looking for an outlet for their anger, and  the child would somehow almost always magically disappear during those times.

Then an agent claiming to be from the government came to see them.

He claimed he had heard about Suraya via their mother and wanted to inspect the child to see if they would qualify for a place in a ‘special school’ for ‘different’ children, and this had sounded tame enough to the family, who allowed him to see the shy, withdrawn little waif.

However Suraya immediately could tell what his true intentions were—-to have them locked up in a testing facility to figure out their ‘mutation’—-and attempted to run, only to be caught by his fellow officers outside the home.

The family was paid compensation for officially relinquishing Suraya’s care to the state, and did so without question, only relieved to be rid of their ‘burden’.

Suraya was taken to facility after facility in the state for the first few years to have a battery of tests, many painful, run on them to figure out their ‘special ability’ as an Outlier and to see if it could be replicated.

When they were in their early teens, they were transported overseas to a different facility as a bargaining chip for intel, tech and the like, coming into the ‘care’ of people who intended to use them as a government asset.

They never saw daylight except during transportation and they began to plan their escape as they studied the facility’s layout.

Their first attempt at escape didn’t go well however; they were caught, dragged back and had their eyes burned and blinded as punishment (at this point they had shown their handlers that their highly-enhanced hearing made them capable of navigating the world in total darkness, so said handlers didn’t not see this as ‘damaging the goods’).

If the handlers thought that the punishment would deter them however, it didn’t; Suraya just became more careful and subtle with the planning of their next attempt.

The second attempt came during a transport session where there were less guards and less access to tech to subdue them, though it came with a problem they did not plan for.

In their first attempt, they had tried escaping into the countryside. In this one, they hurled themselves out completely unprepared into a world louder than any world they had ever known; downtown London on a weekend.

The cacophony completely overwhelmed their senses and they barely managed to crawl-stumble into an alley as bounty hunters were enlisted to track them down.

It was here that they ran into one Ramiro Vasquez (Ravage) who was immediately concerned about their situation and once figuring out the nature of their distress, gave them his headphones to drown out the noise and kept them safe and hidden until the bounty hunters had left.

He then took Suraya back to the rented apartment he shared with Lara Soelberg (Laserbeak) and both agreed to let the waif stay with them for as long as they needed to be alright, and the three formed a little familial unit as Suraya grew deeply fond of the two Beast Men whom they saw as two of the most compassionate people in a horrible world.

Ramiro however understood that Suraya needed tutelage to properly harness and deal with their Outlier ability; having heard whispers of a secret Outlier school run Senator Sharifuddin Waseem (Shockwave) and knowing Sharifuddin as one of the few good men in the Senate, he decided to take the risk and confronted the Senator about the matter, promising to keep the secret a secret in return for helping out Suraya.

As it turned out the threats were not necessary, as Sharifuddin was genuinely  concerned for them and came to see them personally at the apartment. Initially,  Suraya was apprehensive about meeting someone else about their abilities, remembering full well how the first such meeting ended, but to their pleasant surprise, they detected no malice in Sharifuddin’s intentions; only the desire to help.

They agreed to enroll in Sharifuddin’s Outlier institute, coming back home to see Ramiro and Lara every weekend.

They excelled in their classes and soon mastered their ability and knew how to deal with the overstimulation that came from it, to the point where they could walk the streets with no problem.

In the wake of murders of Senators Nikomedes Momus and Gayathri Sharma, Suraya offered to become a spy for Sharifuddin, who was determined to solve the deaths, and Sharifuddin began bringing them to Senate meetings under the guise of them being his new aide.

They caught the eye of Senator Radbourne (RatBat) who seemed to pick up the fact that they were an Outlier, but rather than bring up the matter, requested that they work with him as well on.... matters regarding his constituents with disabilities.

Sharifuddin has his reservations about Radbourne and Suraya knew they were up to no good and both agreed to the arrangement so Suraya could dig up more information about them.

As it turned out, Radbourne was dirty as dirty as politicians came, but he had nothing to do with the murders. Rather, he was mostly preoccupied with an individual named Morgan Trayton (Megatron), the same individual whom Omar Parvez (Orion Pax)  a friend of Sharifuddin’s, had mentioned as a great writer.

Radbourne asked Suraya to track down Morgan with an offer the man hopefully wouldn’t refuse and Suraya, intrigued about this man with what they’d heard about him from Omar, agreed to do so.

They found Morgan in a vast underground fighting ring in Moscow, and after voicing some skepticism about him walking his written talk, he allowed them to peek into his mind to see how genuine and committed he was to his cause, and it took them aback for a bit to meet someone who despite being mired in tragedy, had Sharifuddin’s desire to make a better world and the iron will to back it up.

They pledged themself to be among the first members of Morgan’s rising revolution (which was aided by Omar spreading his writings through an underground press) and told them about Radbourne’s offer to supply weapons and augmentations to increase profits from the pitfighting racket.

Morgan agreed if only to use these exact items against the Senate once he’d acquired an army.

It was during this time with Morgan that they also met Ramsey (Rumble) and Friedel (Frenzy), a pair of dwarf miners who the man had been friends with for years, and almost immediately got along with their boisterous, gregarious natures. 

They continued to be Radbourne’s liaison with Megatron until the start of the Clampdown when they watched Morgan kill the owner of the Pit, free those who wanted their freedom and take those who were loyal to him to meet with Sharifuddin to formally establish a rebellion.

It was about this time that Suraya found out that Radbourne had been conducting illegal experiments on Beast Men, something they took grave offense to, and they kept mining Radbourne for more information about where the experiments were taking place.

Upon finding out, they personally hunted down Radbourne as Stefan Scavarro (Starscream) initiated the Senate massacre to Radbourne’s labs, where he tried to fight them off only to finally find out the true extent of their abilities.

Badly-injured, his attempt at stopping them from freeing the captive Beast Men—-his “property” as he would yell at them—-ended up with him hurled into a genetic splicing pod (commissioned from a ‘Mesothulas’) which he accidentally activated.

The process twisted him into a Rat-Bat-human hybrid, and rather than kill him, Suraya decided to leave the option to the Beast Men he tortured for profit in what they saw as poetic justice.

After those who wanted vengeance were done with Radbourne, Suraya gave the  Beast Men the option of leaving free or coming with them to be a part of Morgan’s revolution which would ensure that they were never mistreated and ostracized by the larger world again.

Two of the Beast Men took up the offer; Bastien Saville (Buzzsaw) and Gan Go-eun (Glit).

When Morgan, confident in Suraya’s abilities asked them  to establish their own division focussed on spying and intel gathering, Suraya chose Ramiro, Lara, Ramsey, Friedel and Bastien to work alongside them.

While Suraya occasionally questions Morgan’s actions, two things they have never questioned are his dedication to his cause and the compassion he shows to those they care for, and it’s enough for them to consider themself a true Decepticon till the day his objectives are achieved.

[allforafro]

Is One For All is evil?

Ok, read to the end before you write in your comment; but how is it after all ofa wants to beat afo. It is afo that is bad. Read to the end and then you will decide if it makes sense in your opinion. This will be one of the crazier theories that @ikamigami and I have come up with.

Don't take this theory for granted. I'm not sure if any of this is true.

Warning very very very long post:

My doubts about the whole ofa/afo thing started when I read chapter 193. In chapter 193, previous ofa users showed Deku a vision of the past through a dream. A fragment of ofa's origin story. The first thing that didn't sit well with me was the perspective of the history being shown. It makes the most sense to explain that Yoichi is showing his perspective but it would show that he was an eyewitness to various afo activities. But why?

Maybe Yoichi wasn't against his brother's actions from the beginning. Maybe he even helped him in his own way. In the beginning, afo might give the impression that he wanted to help others get through this difficult time. But at some point Yoichi saw through his brother's selfish motives.

The next thing that caught my attention the most was when Yoichi didn't want the two people there to accept help from afo.

I didn't understand it at first. Over time as we began to learn more about afo and the workings of his Quirk these events began to make sense. All clues point to the fact that afo's quirk works on a similar principle as the hive-mind. By giving a quirk to a person, afo attaches a part of his DNA to it so he can control the person. He can communicate with them through thoughts and in this way he can give them orders.

But wait, wait wouldn't that mean Yoichi knows how quirk afo works. He knows exactly how it works or he partially knows. He don't want afo to give quirks to others so he can't control them. He doesn't want to accept a quirk so his brother can't control it.

Additional note: In the bunker, Yoichi refuses to eat, defying his brother's attempt to control him. This expression of rebellion is meant to counter the possessive-controlling nature of All for One's love.

At the end of chapter 193, we see the moment of the creation of one for all. To understand the rest of the explanation of why ofa is suspicious, I will explain a few things in relation to Yoichi and the rise of quirks.

The Quirks were created through experimentation. I suppose the first subjects to be experimented on were actually Afo and Yoichi. That's why their quirks are so different from other people's quirks.

I believe that Afo and Yoichi are twins. From the visible elements of Yoichi's and Afo's faces, we can see that their faces are similar. However, how similar they are will only become clear when Afo's entire face is revealed.  The bond that binds them would match that of the twins. Despite the passage of time and almost losing the feeling of emotion, it is clear that All for one still cares deeply for his brother. Even if getting ofa is his middle goal.

As we know Yoichi was weak and sickly. I believe that his illness was due to the fact that Yoichi had a parasite inside him. The parasite was taking away Yoichi's vitality. I mentioned above that experiments were conducted on the Shigaraki brothers. The older of the Shigaraki brothers obtained quirk, and the younger seemed to be quirkless. However, I believe that Yoichi's hidden quirk was really possessed by the parasite within it.

When Afo gave his brother  power stockpiling quirk his DNA fragment contained in that quirk fused with Yoichi's parasite creating new life.

Growing up life in nine users like a nine month pregnant baby is partly inspired by the meta @pikahlua. The evolving quirk has passed the point of singularity. That's why All for One is so anxious to get it back.

Back to the main thread

Possessing a quirk from afo now, Yoichi attempts to resist his brother's control. All for one's will and desire is usually stronger than the will of the person the afo gave the quirk to. However, I think Yoichi succumbed to afo by having the parasite take away his strength and begin to create something like the form of Yoichi we know from the remnants in ofa. I don't think he succumbed to his brother on his own.

We don't know how long the time elapsed between getting ofa and the arrival of the second and third users. However, we do know that the two of them worked for afo. I believe that the two of them got their quirk from afo. Which the latest chapter could confirm in the case of the second one. He could have gotten a quirk that didn't fit him like Aoyama did, so once past the  singularity point he could have become difficult to control and dangerous.

Ok, the part about freeing Yoichi, I haven't really thought about it yet. But somehow that situation came about. The second and third decide to free Yoichi. All for one was probably in a rage after all his brother was all he cared about. So much so that he was willing to share his vision of his world with him, which is why he didn't get rid of him, but instead strenuously searched for a quirk that wouldn't harm his health and afo allow him to control his brother.

The first three ofa users probably didn't live very long. However, I don't think it was afo that killed his brother. I suspect it was a parasite inside him that caused his death. Admittedly, I don't know how the early users got the idea that ofa could be moved. The answer by chance seems most likely. Maybe Yoichi, almost dying in the other's arms, was thinking about how he wanted them to do what he couldn't - stop his brother. Or the parasite was running away like a rat from a sinking ship, moving to the nearest safe place. It could have been the same for the second and third user.

Then we have the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and finally the eighth user who disrupted the previous order. Confirmation that afo didn't care about getting ofa is the situation with the fourth user, who was hiding in the forest and had no confrontation with afo. Seriously afo wouldn't find out that some guy with a quirk important to him is hiding in the forest. Or All Might fled to the US to hide from afo. Arc from SnS showed us that afo has influence in other countries. But yet All for one didn't pursue them, just let things run their own course. This would confirm that afo is waiting for ofa to climax.

Before we get to Midoriya and the 300+ chapters I would first like to talk a little bit about afo's hatred for All Might.

As we know All Might severely damage afo so that afo had to modify his plan. However, I don't think afo's hatred of All Might is related to the fact that All for one allegedly lost the ground of power from under his feet when AM damaged his face. If that was the reason then afo saying that AM took everything from him would be an exaggerated statement. (I know afo is a shawman but that is more because of his hubris). He should feel more uninterrupted hatred towards the other user, after all this one took his precious brother away from him. (Although we cannot be sure that this is not the case). However, I think it's about All Might's willpower that prevented afo from further corrupting ofa. I think this may have been partly contributed to by the fact that All Might was quirkless. By saying this I don't mean that the other users ofa were no good. I mean that becoming a symbol of peace filled the hearts of others with hope and peace, so that afo could not affect them by preying on their negative emotions or fear. The case of Midoriya is different. Despite having a heroic spirit, it was easier for afo to influence him because of his complexes.

The ninth and final user ofa is Midoriya Izuku. I won't go into his story for long, but will go straight to one of the important situations for this theory. It's about a sports festival and how ofa users helped him break free from Shinso's brainwashing influence.

After the festival, Midoriya tells All Might about the incident. He mentions that he saw them but they never interacted with him.

It is puzzling why it is Midoriya who is so much more special than his predecessors that he not only has access to the quirks of his predecessors but can also talk to them. I think it has to do with the development of the ofa quirk itself. The more developed the quirk the greater its manifestation, its desire to take control. And the answer to why Deku and not All Might might be that All Might does not have a quirk. I am not saying that Deku has quirk but I think that he has inactive quirk gene. And not as in the case of All Might who is simply quirkless.

In the arc joint training Midoriya uses one of her predecessors' quirks for the first time. In my opinion, it is significant that it activated when Deku was angry. And then there's Banjo's strange words that anger is necessary to use this quirk. This text lights up red lights, very associated with afo talking about negative emotions. As we know thanks to them it is easier for him to control the person.

I'll skip the moment of struggle for willpower and emotional goodness in the vestige world. I'll just say that the vestige world is not some magical meeting place for dead people whose fragments of consciousness remain in quirks.

Let me now turn to the moment that led to this theory, or at least was the driving force behind its realization. The moment when Midoriya was in a coma.

As we remember in chapters 304/5, Midoriya talked to the previous ofa users in his head. We then learn that Midoriya is the last user because any subsequent users could no longer handle the power of this quirk. I suspect, however, that in this statement it means that the ninth person is the last because the quirk will evolve into an independent entity. Most likely by taking over Deku's body. Sounds familiar. No wonder, after all, a similar thing happened in the case of Shigaraki and Afo.

By analyzing these chapters in terms of their texts being a little suspicious I don't mean that they are all weird. I think that Nana's emotions about her grandson are genuine and not the result of a tricky manipulation game. As I mentioned above I think the most suspicious are the first three users and not all of them. The strange texts coming from the mouth of vestige are due to the fact that this quirk is infected with afo (I don't know how much it is influenced by the parasite). Not everyone, or maybe everyone (I'm not 100% sure about this) is aware of this though.

Before I get to the second and third user I would like to mention the spiritual All Might. The reason why his vestige is not fully manifested is not only because AM is still alive but also because he did not have a quirk. In the world of vestige only his strength manifests, which was taken away from him by ofa hence his skinny form.

Another interesting moment is that the second and third users hesitate to give their support to Midoriya. However, this is not due to the fact that they do not consider him worthy enough, hero-wise. Ok, I'm not sure though how much of this is due to a difference of opinion, views and how much is influenced by afo/parasite.

What further made me find the afo suspicious is that because of them, Midoriya decided to distance himself from the others. He was more focused on finding afo and stopping him at all costs. But why did he think he could handle him alone if he can't control the quirk one hundred percent (and as we know from Horikoshi's narration heroes can't fight alone). Well, I understand that he wanted to find Shigaraki quickly to help him but how to say it... I'm sorry Deku but you can't help him.

It was a bit incomprehensible to me that Midoriya thought that by moving away from his friends he would keep them safe. After all, every 2A student wants to get a hero, every one of them knew that it's not an easy job, that they put their lives at risk. And explaining their decision to leave AU with the fact that Afo might do something to them is naive. Afo could still do something to them if he wanted to, after all he had his minions on AU territory. And then there's the fact that he distanced himself from All Might, pushing him away. All Might not counting Gran Torino is the only person who knows anything about afo not that he knows much but he knows him more than Deku. It was also apparent that Midoriya was doing everything afo planned for him. You could also see that Deku almost broke down emotionally which would only make it easier for afo to incorporate the part of the plan he had in case he caught the ninth user (I honestly have no idea what he wanted to do to him if he caught him).

We also know that Midoriya didn't tell the heroes or at least All Might about the fact that the ShigaAfo connection goes deeper than just communicating through electromagnetic waves.

There is still the fact that the second's quirk  is unknown. I know I invoking @pikahlua again but her theory about it possibly being a switch thing is a good one. On the one hand a difficult enough quirk to control and on the other hand not so necessary afo that , "ofa as an indirect target" is a meaningless statement.

That would be it, if there is any new information or I have forgotten something I will update this theory if possible.

Thanks if you made it to the end.

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Shoulder Ashachu AU

(Title is a play on the phrase, "angel on your shoulder") 

An Ash-is-a-Pikachu AU where he gets caught by the main rival of each Region (Gary, Paul, Trip, and so on...)

Bottom line, Ash is a special Pikachu with Aura abilities. He uses his Aura to "see" people who need his help. And when they're a long term projects? He catches himself. And his Trainers learn early on that trying to keep him in a Pokeball is futile; he pops out instantly, no matter what they try.

Ash is still as much of a childish goofball as in show, but in this AU he also lives by Nanny McPhee's motto, "When you need me, but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me, but no longer need me, then I have to go." So each Region ends bittersweet as they realize that their paths are now diverting and so Ash is released to continue on his own journey.

Ash's current "Trainer" likely takes his role in whatever group Show-Ash traveled with, (like Gary, Brock, and Misty for Kanto for example).

Also? Every crazy shenanigan he gets into in the show? Ash drags his current Trainer head first into into those adventures too. Though he's still the big hero more often than not (no better way for jerks to realize they've unwilling developed a soft spot for a certain rat than their crazy Pikachu risking life and limb right in front of them).

After a bit, every Regional Professor becomes at least familiar with the story of the strange Pikachu that trains Trainers and so are more or less able to recognize and pass on Ash's name to his current Trainer if they don't know already. However, more often than not his current Trainer learns about Ash's history from Team Rocket's latest attempt catch him.

If Pikachu is in this, it would be as the older, more responsible Pokemon who's taken it upon himself to keep this baby alive despite his ability to attract and dive right into trouble. He also frequently makes sure whatever pet project Ash is cuddling into being a better Trainer doesn't make him cry or anything (hard to be angry at anything when you have a Thunderbolt zapping you). 

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

Gary

Professor Oak is studying a unique Pikachu and comparing it to a normal one when Ash gets loose and latches onto Gary.

"Ash" as his grandfather "code-named" him (anyone who knows he's encountered a Celebi will call him a liar), is an annoying little brat, but he's been zapped too many times by that other Pikachu to really get rid of him. 

Squabbles with Ash so much that he might as well understand everything the strange Pokemon is yelling at him. It is not a one-sided argument even if only half the conversation can be understood.

Chasing him down time wasting detours are the worst because he can't afford to lose his Grandfather's research subject since he promised to record Ash's growth and uniqueness that can only come out in field observations.

Despite himself.... he starts to look forward to whatever new discovery Ash will lead him to next. (Maybe Gramps had a point about Pokemon Research...)

Paul

Just minding his own business catching Starly when an injured Pikachu with a crazy mat of fur on it's head comes out of the woodwork, takes one look at him and bypasses Elekid to catch himself in one of his empty Pokeballs. Despite his confusion, he decides Ash is a DEFINITE keeper when he scans him with his Pokedex.

Although he'll frequently have to ask himself if the little fuzz-bit's strength is worth it with how often he disobeys and incites his other Pokemon into rebellion (Aka, playing). 

And the "pranks" (Aka, Ash's attempts to get Paul to play too) that have been pulled on him are just as frustrating!

....Though he's forced to admit Ash seems to be doing wonders for unlocking Chimchar's full power. 

(He's also ended up in more than one glaring contest with the bigger, older, but just as powerful Pikachu)

Despite himself... he starts to care about Ash who's taught him about different kinds of strength. (....Maybe it's about time he started listening, really listening, to both his Pokemon, and his brother).

Trip

Didn't know what to expect when the Professor Oak decided to visit Professor Juniper's Lab the very same day he was starting his journey, but it sure wasn't that the smaller of the two Pikachu traveling with him (named Ash apparently) would catch himself in one of his new Pokeballs as soon as Professor Juniper handed them to him.

Any wonder he may have had about the whole thing soon evaporates under frustration because Ash only does the silliest things. He's supposed to be this super Pokemon trained by Professor Oak himself! (That's what HE thinks...)

Ash spends more time goofing off like this is a vacation than training to become to strongest.

And when he tries to ignore Ash, leaving him to go off on his own? Leads to the craziest and unconventional situations!

"HOW DID-?!?!" is a frequent question whenever Ash's... irregularity makes itself apparent.

Despite himself... he starts to understand that Ash can teach him a lot of things if he's willing to learn. (Maybe... a Pokemon Journey is about learning beyond the basics rather than becoming the strongest).

Gladion

Didn't know what to make of the Pikachu that just popped into his life one day. And won't leave no matter how many times he released him, Ash would just catch himself in another Pokeball.

Keeps on dragging him to Professor Kukui's house.

Keeps on guiding him to training spots that "coincidentally" lets him run into Professor Kukui's class and his sister.

Keeps on BEFRIENDING Ultra Beasts! (And adopting one!!)

At least he and Pikachu can agree they shouldn't let his Mom anywhere near Ash.

Though he would like to know why Tapu Koko keeps on challenging Ash to a battle!

Despite himself... he can't help but be inspired by the Pokemon that seems to embody the Alola Spirit. (Maybe... maybe it's time he stopped shouldering his burdens alone and accept the support of his loved ones instead of... shoving them away).

[yanderart]

   Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

-------

Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo). 

-------

   You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset. 

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut. 

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold. 

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them. 

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

   But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight. 

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most  ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves. 

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night. 

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year. 

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.  

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality. 

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

   In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder. 

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment. 

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough. 

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted. 

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand. 

 A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk. 

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

   Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking,  chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead. 

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web. 

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.  

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas. 

   How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps. 

   Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.  

   Government lies and why they matter. 

   Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl). 

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum. 

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

   Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter. 

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

   I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question. 

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior. 

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen. 

   I just think it's amazingThe things you know

   How you share them with everyone

   The way you see through the lies

   I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation. 

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping. 

   I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too. 

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded. 

   I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros. 

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself. 

   I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out. 

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

   That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything? 

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

   Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either. 

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing. 

   So you really are a n00b then. 

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever. 

   And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game. 

Be more like you, you left unsaid. 

   So am I your senpai then? 

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback. 

   You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

   I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now. 

   Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind... 

   I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views. 

A welcomed change in topics. 

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

   Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you. 

   Well, yah. You make compelling arguments. 

   Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before. 

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins. 

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving. 

   I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath. 

   I can help you with that. 

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit. 

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point. 

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you. 

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

   Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust. 

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second. 

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well. 

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him. 

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises. 

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap. 

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path. 

。。。。。

    Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.   

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand. 

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least. 

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner. 

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place. 

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness. 

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside. 

   Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you  received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you. 

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever. 

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

   And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well. 

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant. 

   I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up. 

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

   ...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together. 

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy. 

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there. 

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was. 

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance. 

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor. 

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" 

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back. 

。。。。。                                                      

   The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.  

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame. 

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest. 

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently. 

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.  

   Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time. 

   This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

   Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.  

   i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch. 

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated. 

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

   Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent. 

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with. 

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed. 

   and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement. 

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in. 

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.  

   Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against. 

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves. 

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

   how the fck did u get that

   I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats 

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

   You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as. 

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

   fucking delete that right now, man.

   this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT. 

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle. 

And he was doing it all in your name.

   Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to. 

   y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing. 

   They're a friend. 

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone. 

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments. 

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way. 

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

   Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.  

   Anything for you, [Y/N]. 

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture. 

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips. 

You truly looked angelic like that. 

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after. 

。。。。。                                                   

    But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present. 

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

   Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently. 

   Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

   Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods. 

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start. 

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you. 

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you. 

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived. 

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

 。。。。。

    Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago. 

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into. 

   Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

   You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face. 

   Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto. 

   Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I? 

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation. 

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating. 

。。。。。

   On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier. 

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive. 

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest. 

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit. 

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony. 

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

   In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements. 

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was. 

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable. 

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves). 

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline. 

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend. 

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements. 

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live. 

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self. 

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle. 

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com. 

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring. 

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by. 

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth. 

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions. 

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building. 

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

   Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe. 

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic. 

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors. 

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that. 

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.  

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief. 

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure. 

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space. 

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet. 

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second. 

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place. 

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours. 

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action. 

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. 

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages. 

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing. 

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind. 

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle. 

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it. 

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you. 

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite. 

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.    

。。。。。

   Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass. 

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled. 

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.  

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper. 

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit. 

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you. 

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued. 

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to. 

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your  judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt. 

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time. 

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept. 

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation. 

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him. 

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans. 

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along. 

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways. 

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin. 

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not. 

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt. 

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them. 

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips. 

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting. 

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer. 

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills. 

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning. 

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you. 

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down. 

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

   He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___; 

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni​, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight  😠 👑

[theparanormalperiodical]

What The Hell Is Satanism? The Backstory, The Beliefs, And The A-To-Z On Devil Worshippers

4 days ago, Nike decided to sue a small indie art collective based in New York.

This isn’t news. This isn’t the first time a profit-mongering fashion-giant has targeted businesses trying to make a name for themselves. And it won’t be the last.

But this time, there’s probably something else influencing the executives reclining on their plush leather seats: they said it was because MSCHF stamped on the Nike Swoosh. But we all know what the real problem was:

These kicks were soaked with Satanic imagery - oh, and a single drop of human blood.

"MSCHF and its unauthorised Satan Shoes are likely to cause confusion and dilution and create an erroneous association between MSCHF's products and Nike”

Translation: no, we don’t want to be associated with devil worshippers.

Satan and his followers have once again hit the press following Lil Nas X’s latest viral YouTube hit and release of his custom footwear. And he does the belief system - and the LGBTQA+ community - justice.

But Satanism goes much deeper than pole dancing your way to hell.

It goes deeper than the fears of your evangelical aunt, it goes deeper than the rumours of a sacrificial ritual that happened in the woods outside of town, and it goes deeper than QAnon conspiracy theories.

Today we explore what Satanism really is. And what it really isn’t.

*twerks towards hell*

What Is Satanism?

Satanism is a group of modern religions that are centred around Satan, an entity in Abrahamic religions (e.g. Christianity and Judaism) that rebelled against God, has power over Hell and demons, and seduces humans into sin. Satan features in a vast number of major religions: he started off in Zoroastrianism, then making his way to Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. But the modern followers of Satanism are inspired by the Christian fallen angel and ruler of hell.

A large proportion of Satanists follow atheistic Satanism - they don’t necessarily believe in an entity but follow a philosophy that focuses on individualism and satisfying the ego, or rebel specifically against the dominance of Christianity in Western society.

Although Satan is typically considered the embodiment of evil, most strands of Satanism are not. However, there are some groups that fit this mould like the Order of the Nine Angles: they’re neo-Nazis.

The actual worship of Satanism only began just over 50 years ago, in 1966. But the use of the term ‘Satanist’ stretches back centuries further. Calling someone a ‘Satanist’ (or something to that effect) was an insult reserved for those that disagreed with a Christian group’s beliefs.

A Not-very-brief-but-look-I-tried-ok History Of Satanism

Here’s the thing about Satanism: at one point in history, every religious group was deemed Satanist. 

You see, that’s how it all started.

Even the term ‘Satan’ originally meant ‘adversary’. It didn’t necessarily refer to a horned, evil ex-angel once scorned by the Almighty. It meant ‘other’; it was just an insult. It wasn’t created by groups of men draped in blood red robes preparing to slaughter a virgin to their ungodly master - Satanism was actually created by Christians.

The word ‘Satanism’ was first recorded in French and English literature back in the 16th century. Against the backdrop of the Reformation (when the Western Christian Church split off into Protestantism, Catholicism, and other more niche shards) rival religious groups would label each other with such terms frequently in various tracts and texts.

It was not to say that Protestants, for example, were actively worshipping Satan but were instead deviating from what Catholics thought was true Christianity. By ‘incorrectly’ serving God, they were supporting Satan’s claim to ruin the world with sin and evil.

*Disney villain laugh*

In the 19th century it broadened to encompass anyone that lived an immoral lifestyle and was thus serving Satan’s will. But in this same century it evolved yet again.

Yep, it’s time to introduce the actual Satanists: texts began to emerge that mention people that revered and worshipped Satan. It took a long 300 years for Satanists to reclaim their title. But the story doesn’t end here: this is a really important theme that runs like blood through the history of Satanism. Or, rather, the history of religious prejudice and persecution.

Throughout, well, all of human history, we have been swept up unto the belief that there is a dark, evil force lurking within our communities. The most recent example claims Joe Biden and his Democrat friends are Satan-worshipping baby-eating America-hating pedophiles. The fears of a discrete force that can hide at will fits the descriptors of the Judeo-Christian devil. And so, it had been applied to persecuted groups for centuries.

The Witch Trials and the Spanish Inquisition are the most famous examples of this. Satanism evolved in the Medieval era to scapegoat certain groups or to reinforce social norms by emphasising the apparently very real fight between good and evil.

Narratives of the French Revolution at the time were contorted with rumours of revolutionaries being part of a secret Satanic conspiracy. This revolution struck a blow to the power of the Catholic church, and some fingers pointed towards the dark lord of hell himself. Some even believed these revolutionaries had amassed supernatural powers to curse people and shape-shift into various creature ‘n’ critters like cats or fleas!

In the 20th century, another historical shift took place. And this time it (supposedly) happened from within the secret societies themselves: non-fiction authors and tabloids began to recount the allegations of people who once claimed to have been part of Satanic groups before converting to Christianity.

Doreen Irvine claimed she was given the ability to levitate amongst other witchy-powers. But Irvine’s claims sent shockwaves across the pond in the US. Much more horrific allegations were about to take centre stage. In the 1980s this would reach its climax with the Satanic Panic:

Also known as the Satanism Scare, the book Michelle Remembers (1980) detailed the alleged repressed memories of a psychiatrist’s patient which claimed they had been abused as a child for Satanic rituals. In these rituals, babies would be sacrificed and Satan would appear.

Reports of sexual child abuse for these rituals - known as Satanic Ritual Abuse - proliferated until the 1983 case made against the McMartin family. The McMartins owned a preschool in California and were allegedly sexually abusing the children in their care for ritualistic purposes. A lengthy trial ensued and the McMartins were eventually cleared of all charges.

But it was too late.

An evangelical anti-Satanism movement emerged claiming no children would lie about such claims and therefore all accused must be guilty. A conspiracy theory similar to those before emerged claiming SRA was rampant across the US, but it lost momentum by the turn of the 90s. Various investigations by the FBI and British government looked into SRA but found no evidence of Satanism or rituals in any cases of child abuse. Some lone cases of pedophiles did involve rituals, but these were isolated events that never involved Satanist groups.

The 7 Types Of Satanism

Satanism is an umbrella term to describe a vast array of religious groups. There’s a swirling sea of beliefs from the philosophical Satanists that don’t actually believe in Satan to the minority groups that are willing to sacrifice humans in the name of worshipping their god.

However, this ocean does share a common focus on individualism, self-perception, and non-conformity - traditional traits associated with the devil.

There are 3 forms of Satanism: reactive (attempts to invert Christianity and celebrates rebellion), rationalist (atheist and materialistic beliefs), and esoteric (actually worships Satan and draws upon religions like Paganism and western Esotericism).

The Church of Satan kick-started modern Satanism. Erected in 1966, Anton LaVey promoted an atheistic philosophy that focused on indulgence and an ‘eye for an eye’ ethical code that celebrated mankind as animals in an amoral world. Hate and aggression were not wrong but were advantageous for one’s survival. Yes, the seven deadly sins were actually beneficial for the individual.

The First Satanic Church was founded on Halloween night in 1999 by the daughter of Anton LaVey after his church was taken over by a new administration that Karla deemed against her father’s work.

The Satanic Temple is an atheist-activist group that stages political ‘pranks’ that rebel against the political and social dominance of Christianity. They aim to showcase religious hypocrisy in stunts such as performing a ‘Pink Mass’ over the grave of a Westboro Baptist Church goer (known for their explicit and offensive signs). They use Satan as a metaphor to rebel against a society that restricts personal autonomy and curiosity.

Luciferianism is a belief system that pivots around the characteristics associated with Lucifer. Followers believe Lucifer is the illuminated aspect of Satan, thus considering themselves Satanists. But some believe he is a more positive force than Satan. They follow the ancient myths of Egypt, Rome, and western Occultism. They consider him the true god - a destroyer but also a ‘light-bringer’ to the world.

The Temple of Set does not necessarily revere Satan by instead a being they call Set. Satan was the corrupted name of set, an entity that is the one true god. It gave humanity intellectual abilities to separate it from animals and they believe in a Setian philosophy with self-deification as the aim of all humanity.

The Order of the Nine Angles was inspired by ancient Pagan groups resident in Shropshire in the late 60s. But the founder of the group, Anton Long, is considered the pseudonym of neo-Nazi David Myatt. They encourage human sacrifice as a part of rituals and several members have joined the police and the military to do this without getting caught. The ONA is linked to several rapes, murders, cases of child abuse, and right-wing terrorism. They are also connected to several neo-nazi terror organisations.

The Joy Of Satan - contrary to its name - ain’t joyful. It’s an Occultist group that combines Satanism, Paganism, and UFO conspiracy theories. Just like the ONA, they’re Nazis. They believe Satan is one of many demonic deities which are powerful humanoid extraterrestrial beings which are equated with ancient gods. They believe Satan created humanity and brought us knowledge.

Reactivism isn’t a form of Satanism that is followed by an organised group but rather practiced on a personal, isolated level. It is considered an anti-social means of rebelling in a society dominated by Christianity. Most reactive Satanists are adolescents, mentally-disturbed, and have taken part in criminal activity associated with Satanic rituals they discovered through personal learning.

For example, in the 1970s two groups of teenagers in LA and Big Sur killed 3 people and ate parts of their corpses as a part of rituals devoted to Satan. Plotted murder and cannibalism are common traits of reactive Satanist crimes.

The A-To-Z Of Devil Worship

Baphomet

A deity that the Knights Templar allegedly worshipped. It is associated with the Sabbatic Goat which represents the equilibrium of opposites (half-man and half-goat, male and female, good and evil).

Black Mass

It is traditionally known as a requiem mass (funeral mass) in the Roman Catholic church from which the celebrants wear black clothes. However, it has been appropriated by Satanic cults. It often involves a naked woman as an altar and is the site of various Satanic magical rituals.

Cutter vs Wilkinson

A Supreme Court case which claimed federal funds cannot deny prisoners accommodations that are needed to engage in religious practices. Five residents of an Ohio prison including a member of a white supremacist Christian church, a Wiccan, and a Satanist filed the suit, claiming the officials failed to accommodate their ‘nonmainstream’ religions.

Devil

The personification of evil which shows up in many different religions. It is Satan in Abrahamic texts.

Demon

A supernatural entity often associated with evil. The original Greek word - daimon - did not have negative connotations.

Demonology

The study of demons.

Demonolatry

The worship of demons.

Goats

Satanism is always associated with goats. But why? There are several reasons: Baphomet is half-man, half-goat; the ‘infernal goat’ is depicted in many witches’ sabbats; Pagan traditions involved horned gods Christian forces deemed devilish; and the tarot card depicting the devil is a goat. In 1966, the church of Satan adopted baphomet as the sigil.

Lucifer

The name of mythological and religious figures associated with Venus. It is associated in the Christian tradition with Satan as he supposedly fell from heaven. Often called ‘the morning star’ or described as ‘light bringing’.  

Stanislaw Przybyszewski

The first guy to promote a Satanic philosophy.

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