#they get corrupted somehow. and just start destroying things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

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First of all your writing is amazing 🤩🤩!!!

You give so much life to your writings.

So I've been seeing a lot of snippets that have Danny claiming Dani as his child and also somehow carrying the cores to her clone siblings. And I was wondering how you would depict that. Maybe with a Dan maybe not. He could be living with Vlad or maybe he had to flee Amity and gets found on the streets by one of the bats if he's in Gotham or Alfred is the one who brings home the stray. Maybe he's Bruce's kid maybe not. He doesn't even need to be in Gotham. Maybe it lines up with Lian and he somehow saves her (I forget what happens to her).

Danny had only been in the new dimension for about thirty minutes when a terrorist attacked. He had originally traveled there with them since Clockwork promised if he relocated in a timeline so far away from Dan. He would allow Dani- de-age to five though her mental state stayed the same- and the cluster of her clone siblings' cores to live.

Clockwork claimed that Dani and the clones were destined to be corrupted, causing more devastation and death than Dan. They would expand their mercenaries' attack across dimensions and timelines, wiping out millions and millions, and so the clock ghost had enlisted Danny to destroy them.

He had gone under the condition that they would leave Dani alone, but when Danny saw the clones' cores, something in him had not been able to kill them off. Seven of them rested in a nest-like ectoplasm cave, and even though they were locked within their cores, Danny could hear their little heartbeats.

Could sense the being within, resting like a child in a mother's stomach.

It sounded a lot like an ultrasound, but he quickly found out only he could hear them, for Tucker, Sam, Jazz, and Dani had only seen glowing egg-shaped targets. He had thrown himself over them, begging them to not harm the children.

Danny didn't know where the connection came from, but there was no denying that there was one. He had bonded with the cores, and he wanted nothing more than to care for and nurture the children that were forming within.

Clockwork's deal hung heavily over his head, but after speaking to his friends and family, he decided to move far away for the children. He would be a single father to Dani and her seven siblings, worlds away from everything he knew and loved.

It is Difficult, but other parents have left their home countries to try and give their kids a better future before. He could do it, too.

Danny would even share his natural ectoplasm with the cores to help them grow like a ghost incubator. Yes, it would weaken him, but no more than any other person who was pregnant, and he would not have to deal with mood swings or food cravings!

He bid his family fair well, taking with him funds from Sam and Vlad, and had hopped over. Dani held his hand, and his core children were safely tucked into his backpack in warm towels. They had five suitcases with them, taking their essentials - such as government documents Clockwork swore would be what that world used, clothes, food, and the few techs they could carry- and had stepped through the spinning portal.

He had stopped between the two worlds, turning back only once to wave goodbye and ignore the tears rolling down his face.

His mother had called out, "Don't look back, sweetie. If you do, you'll never be able to see your children in front of you!"

Danny had turned and not looked back again. He and Dani were dropped in what looked like a large city. The first thing he wanted to do for them was find shelter, so he wiped away his tears, helped a sobbing Dani clean her face, and then marched them away, hoping to find an apparent complex with a vacant room that would be open.

They had just been passing by a sweet of houses when the bombs went off. Dani screamed, throwing herself against Dani's leg as houses started to crumble around them.

For one heart-stopping moment, he imagined the cores shattered like eggs, shimmering against the red of Dano's squished body. Danny had dropped their bags, gathering Dani in his arms and flying to the closest shelter.

He invaded a house, pressing his daughter and her siblings against his chest as more and more bombs went around the city. With a cry, he threw the strongest shield he could muster around them, encasing his ectoplasm in ice, but still, the blasts rocked the house and tore apart the building. Trust Clockwork to throw them into a war zone!

"Danny!" Dani screamed as large bits of the ceiling fell onto the shield. It caused cracks on his shield, and the ghost boy gritted his teeth to strengthen them. He had just feed a lot of his power to the core not even twenty minutes ago. He's basically tapped out. "Danny, I think there is someone in the house!"

I don't care, Danny thinks ruthlessly. You and your siblings come first.

"Danny! I think it's a kid!"

Danny's tunnel vision of keeping his kids safe suddenly shatters as he registers the screaming. It's high pitch and frightened, someone young. It's coming from upstairs, just slightly above the rocking and booms of the city.

"Danny! I can't go ghost; you need to help them!"

But his kids-

"Danny, please!" Dani screams, looking up at him with her tiny five-year-old face and the burning protective core in her eyes.

He can't say no to that. With a flick of his wrists, Danny freezes the inside of the shield, encasing it a second time until only a small hole is left. He throws the backpack carrying his other children into his eldest's arms with a command: "Protect your brothers and sisters!"

He had to force himself and reach deep within to grab hold of what little Ectoplasim he had left, but twin rings of lights formed around him, shifting him from human to ghost. He could tell that the transformation wouldn't last. His limit is likely fifty seconds, but that's all the time he needs.

He flies through the hole, going intangible to the rumble and blaze, flying through the crumbling building until he spots a little girl humbled up and crying as the ground breaks underneath her. It feels as if everything slows down as she starts to fall, descending into the flames that burst around her- a bomb had been flung to the house, and it detonated upon impact- and Danny knew that if she hit the ground, she would die.

Danny knew what he had to do.

He would be cutting his transformation time, but it was a sacrifice well made. Phantom pushed everything he had into flying as fast as he could, reaching her just before her feet hit the flames. He curled his arms around her, pressing her to his chest and encasing her small body as best he could with his ice like a hastily made baby carrier. Then, he flung himself backward towards the first floor, where his children were waiting.

His vision started going blurry, and his flying was uneven. Intangibility failed him as rocks and fire slammed into his back. The little girl he rescued was protected from most hits, but he still curved around her, ensuring that if anything went to her, it would need to go through Danny.

They slammed into the shield, his ice retreating long enough for them to phase before the entire building collapsed. Danny hit the ground hard on his side, absorbing most of the impact as best he could for the girl, who was covered in inguires.

"Danny!"

Dani's horrified scream was the last thing he heard when the world faded to black.

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No. No. No. No. no

Roy ran as fast as he could through the destroyed city, racing towards where his safe house and his daughter once stood. When the reports of Prometheus first arrived, he had known that Star City was among the target places, but when they showed him the map of the areas, his heart fell through his body.

He hadn't stayed for the briefing, had ignored the outraged cries of the heroes, and he knows he just hurt his chances of being in Justice League, but none of that mattered.

Lian needed him!

He heard Dick and Jason not far behind him, likely noticing the same thing on the map, but he could barely think as he leaped over destroyed buildings and rescue crews. He almost had no idea where he was; nothing looked the same, and dust and devastation were everywhere.

Only when he spotted a lump of crumbling wood and rocks he realize this was supposed to be his street. The broken building before him was his house, and it had been wiped from the face of the earth.

"Lian!" The scream that was ripped from him was inhuman, grief-stricken even as he crumbled to his knees, trying to push the wood out of the way to reach his daughter. "Lian! Daddy's coming. Danny's here! Hold on!"

He threw everything out of his way, desperately clawing at the heavier bits, but even as he spoke, his sight was blurry from his tears. Dick and Jason quickly helped him, letting pieces and moving stones with steady but sadness clouded their faces.

He's seen those particular expressions on the Bats before. It was during their search and recovery missions.

They were looking for a corpse.

No. no. no. no. no Please not my little girl

"What is that?!" Jason called out, pointing to a large caved-in roof with a faint green glow. Roy looked up, half numb from everything, to watch Dick and Jason push the roofing off with a grunt of effort.

A dome of glowing ice appeared, and he could make out the three figures inside it. The ice cracked, shattering as Roy stumbled towards it, eyes unfocused.

Then his gaze sharpened when his daughter's tear-covered face turned to him. She held out her hands with a sob, " Daddy!"

"Lian!"

He raced towards her, stumbling over a few steps, but he had his daughter in his arms, warm and safe and, most importantly, alive.

"Daddy, the alien saved me!" Lian said, "He's hurt!"

Roy can bring himself to leave his head from his daughter's hair, but he hears Dick take control, racing over to the alien that was crumbling on the ground.

"Stay away!" a young voice said- which- was the alien a child? He peaked one of his eyes up, only glazing at the sight of a body and a little girl hunched over them in a defensive posture.

"Hey, we mean you no harm. We just want to check on your friend there," Dick tells it.

"He isn't my friend, He' s my dad!"

"That's great. Does he need medical attention?" Jason said, stepping closer only to back away as the girl bared her sharp teeth. "We just want to help."

"You promise you won't hurt him?"

"We promised. He saved someone really important to us."

"You won't hurt my siblings either?"

"If we find them, we won't-

"They're right here with Dad. They just aren't born yet." The girl cuts him off, patting her father's back and the little bag.

Shit. The alien was pregnant? And he risked not only his own health but his unborn children for Lian? Roy doesn't care which side this alien is on, how they got to Earth, or what they planned to do.

He would protect them with their lives.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Cluster of Cores Au #Danny is Dani's Dad #Also he will have seven other kids on the way #Like snake eggs #dimension travel #Danny is nineteen #He saved Lian by accident #Now the arrows love him #Part 1

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onelittlespiral · 5 months

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FML: Overbaked

I’m playing around with the format on these a little bit. This story has two endings, one of which is here and the other of which can be found here: FML: Underbaked

Consider this the more corruptive ending.

I’ll say up front that this one is on me. My boyfriend and I had been going steady for a while now. He was cute and smart, but after a few years he just wasn’t the kind of guy I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. Things had just gotten… bland. We hardly ever went on dates, spent most weekends apart doing our own hobbies, and sex was a bit like going through the motions. I wanted a change. So, I ordered one. A new “white noise” machine. But it did a bit more than that. You just adjusted the settings and in a few nights it could grow, shrink, age, add hair, add muscle. I think I even saw a setting for a gender flip. It cost a pretty penny but I figured it would be worth it. I ran it for a while with no settings, just so he would get used to it. But, when I had a business trip that was going to take me out of town for the weekend, I figured it was a perfect time to see what it could do.

Before I left I opened the hidden panel and decided to start pretty simple. I would just program it to make him bigger. More buff, more masculine, maybe a bit more dominant. Could be a nice change to get taken care of when I got back. I dialed in the knobs, said my goodbyes, and flew off for the weekend. Meanwhile, back at home, my sweet boyfriend dozed and grew, none the wiser to his changes. And there were some changes. By the time I flew in Sunday night, a whole new man was there to greet me.

“Hey babe, you miss me?” In just a few days he had ballooned in size. His biceps were thick, easily picking me up into an embrace. His pecs were strong and juicy as I held onto them while gazing in his eyes. His kiss was strong and assertive, as he slipped his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like fresh cut sandalwood. And his cock was girthy, as I felt it slowly swell and press up against me. I gave in as he pushed me down to the bed and unbuttoned his jeans. My pants were on the floor in a moment as I laid back in just my jockstrap, ready to receive him.

He pulled me down to the end of the bed, and slowly massaged my puckering hole. I don’t know if the machine somehow taught him how to handle me but as he worked is fingers inside it was so easy to relax and let him stretch me out. He replaced his fingers. I felt his cock, firm and throbbing, as it slid into me. I squeezed as I adjusted to his new size. I felt so full, but it just kept sliding in. As he began to hit my prostate a surprising moan escaped my lips.

“That’s right babe, open up for me.” He leaned in and gave me a kiss. His beard was soft, his lips pillowy. I felt every motion of his body, every little adjustment sent a throbbing through my body. “You’re so cute like this. You ready for daddy’s cock?”

I could only let out an anticipatory whimper as he slowly began thrusting. With one hand he caressed my torso, the other he held my shoulders in place. I was anchored down as he picked up steam. Soon both hands were on my shoulders as he put his weight behind the thrusts. I tried to tell him to slow down, but something about how assertive and confident he was kept the words from my lips. And then it hardly mattered, as he found my prostate and my mind dissolved. He was destroying my ass as all I could do was try not to drool all over myself. All thought was consumed by pleasure as his balls slapped heavy against my ass.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy. Your ass is so tight. Fuck it feels amazing.”

“Huuuhnuh…ahhh…uhhhhhh…fuck…meeeeee”

I could feel it coming. I tried to ride the waves of ecstasy but he was not letting up. Suddenly he inhaled sharply.

“God, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” he cried. He made no signs of slowing down.

“Cum…cum in-me.” I was about to burst.

He let out a deep growl as with a final thrust he plunged into me and the floodgates opened. At the same time I saw stream after stream hit his chest. We came at the same time. Panting he ran his finger down his chest and popped a thick glob in his mouth

“Yeah, you even taste delicious.”

This time I pulled him to me, kissing his beautiful face as he slowly pulled himself out of me with a wet pop.

And that should have been it. It should have stayed that way. It was supposed to be amazing. But, somehow, life always gets complicated.

It started with work. Maybe it was a side effect. With how he carried himself, he couldn’t help but turn heads when he entered a room. He would talk about how well respected he was, how all of a sudden people gave a shit when he said something. I guess it came with the territory. But that respect turned into a promotion, and that promotion had him working later and later hours. Plus, with his new body, he had to maintain it. He spent at least two hours at the gym, lifting and running and stretching. He would come home smelling musky, and I would basically be waiting in the bedroom to suck on his sweaty cock. Those nights were some of the best. But then he made friends, gym bros to hang out with, and he would get home well into the night, too tired to do much but watch TV before passing out. Then, my work project turned south at the end of the year. Our client was furious and I had to fly out almost every other weekend to some meeting to plead for time or try to get the project back on track. It felt like we just kept missing each other.

“I know it’s been hard to manage time but can we please have this weekend,” he begged one Thursday night, “I miss you. I miss us.”

I sighed, “I can’t. We just have to make it to the spring when we launch and it should be good. But until then I have to keep up with these clients.”

“I know, I know but can’t they send someone else?” He came in close and began to stroke my hair, “I need my good little boy here.”

I flushed and turned away, “You know I’ve been working for years to close this project out. I can’t just leave it when we are this close to the finish line.”

He looked hurt, “So instead you’re just leaving me behind?”

I snapped my head back to his, “You’re one to talk. I feel like I haven’t seen you in months. One promotion and suddenly you want to lecture me on my career? Plus all the time you spend with your gym buds. Enjoying the sauna together?” The moment I said it I knew I crossed the line

“…I’m going to bed.” He slammed the bedroom door behind him.

“BABE! No, that’s not what I meant. Please-” I jiggled the locked handle. No response. Dejected, I turned towards the couch, collecting what throw pillows and little blankets I could.

I tossed and turned all night, yet when I woke up he had already slipped out without a word. I wandered back to the bedroom and tried to find solace in the shower. Warm water ran down my back as mulled over the prior evening. When did things get so tough? It felt like just yesterday we were just some freshly graduated kids, now we hardly saw our friends or each other, just crunched all day at the office. Things back then were so… simple. That’s it! I shut off the water and quickly dried off. In the bedroom sat the machine. We had kept using it just for the white noise. Worked like a charm, who knew? It may have been what caused all this, but maybe it held a solution. There was the knob I was looking for: simple. I took it and cranked it up. I needed change and I really needed it quick. Two nights would perfect. If it was anything like last time, by the time I am back Sunday night this could all be solved. I threw a bag together for my trip and went off to the airport. Today I would give him space, and by tomorrow I had a hunch the problem would practically solve itself…

I woke up the next day, groggy from the flight and meetings yesterday. I was not looking forward to another full day today. Just then, my phone buzzed next to me. A text came through from my boyfriend:

got a long day ahead babe. miss u 😘

He looked so… care free. There wasn’t a bag under his eyes. And he never just texted to say he missed me. He never seemed to have time. Seeing him with his arm frown back and that stupid little smirk got me going more than I expected it to. I texted back:

I miss you too. I hope you aren’t too bogged down with meetings today. Love ❤️

He responded: no meeting’s, boss had a safety talk last week. just work

Safety talk? Whatever, I’m sure he would be fine. Probably one of those cyber security talks from the 2000’s. Either way, I couldn’t dwell on it too long. Had to get ready for this team meeting.

The weekend was a blur. Meeting, crunch, eat repeat for two days straight. I hardly had time for myself, much less checking in on my boyfriend’s progress. But he seemed to be coming along nicely, and I could surmise a bit. His stressful job in engineering had been replaced with construction site manager, then just a regular blue-collar worker. His texts had become more casual, and when I talked with him for a few minutes Sunday morning he was kicking back with some friends having a beer. He even took a nap Sunday afternoon, speeding him along maybe a little further than I would have liked. He sent me this text when he woke up as I was on my way to the airport:

Mmm, I miss u, gonna need ass when ur back

The next text was just a picture of his rigid cock. I chuckled a bit. I definitely had gone a bit too far but we could adjust that later.

I miss you too babe. You should probably get up. I’ll be home in a few hours and you can have me then 😉

Little did I know.

I hopped out of my cab and began working through airport security. I made it to my gate with plenty of time to spare. While I had made it to the gate, the plane, evidently had not. Winds and snow out of the northwest had delayed it. It was supposed to be an hour delay. But as one became two, the storm system had moved south.

Passengers of flight AM267, we regret to inform you that your flight has been delayed. With the current storm system, we are not projecting to be able to leave till tomorrow at 8:47am. On behalf-

I tuned out as my mind began to race. Tomorrow? That would throw off my whole work week! And the product launch would have to be delayed even further if I’m not there…

I began crunching the numbers on how far back this would set us as I hopped on a shuttle to the nearest hotel. With the sudden influx, it took a few hours before I was checked into my economy room next to the elevator. I had made the necessary calls to my team letting them know about the situation and… oh shit. I didn’t even call my boyfriend! He’s probably still waiting up for me. Quickly I fired off a text letting him know what was up. The day had been exhausting, I wouldn’t be up for much tonight anyways. I didn’t even change out of my jeans as I passed out on my bed.

The next morning the storm had passed, so it was back to the airport to catch my flight. We were luckier than most, I figured it would take them at last 2 days to be fully back on schedule. Still, everything had been thrown out of sync with the delay. It was almost 2:30 by the time I was sliding my key into the front door. I walked upstairs to throw my luggage in the bedroom when I stopped outside the door. Inside, I could hear a faint crackle, like the fray of a radio. Just the sound gave me a headache, and I felt an itch in my teeth. And then it clicked, and my stomach dropped. I threw open the door and immediately turned off the machine that had been running all day. A faint breathing was behind me. I turned and my eyes went wide.

There he was, still laid back on the bed, hat on his head, wide awake. The thousand yard stare said it all. He had been listening all night and all day.

I tried to shake him awake to no avail. He was lost in whatever fog had dulled his brain.

“Need… ass… need fuck…” he mumbled. Drool started to drip out his mouth.

I turned back the machine and pried off the back panel. I began urgently analyzing switches and knobs, trying to determine which would reverse the changes. Even just a way to turn the damn thing off. It just kept buzzing and buzzing and buzzing… I felt a tight grip around my waist.

“Come babe, you want cock?”

My boyfriend had come out of his stupor, but not much. His cross-eyed stare had set itself on my body. His paws were rested firmly on my hips as he drug me closer to him.

“Let me go, I need to figure this out”

“No,” he slurred, “I need you.” He leaned in for a sloppy kiss. He tasted salty and sour. His beard was far more unkept and rough. He smelled virile this close, musky and horny. “You like simple,” he said. No, not said. Commanded. All that daddy energy he brought before was somehow put behind those words, and for a moment I felt submissive to him. And he only needed that moment. “Come.” He lifted his arm and stared into my eyes. A wave of stench rolled down and hit my senses with a crash.

His gaze, the smell, and the buzzing in my ears. It was all too much as I was drawn towards his pit. I resisted for a moment, giving a hesitant whiff under his gaze. He made no movement. He didn’t have to. I was soon buried in his pit as I huffed his stupefying scent. In the back of my mind I knew this wasn’t right, that I was supposed to be fighting back. But a different whisper entered my mind:

Didn’t I want this? Wasn’t this my choice? Who was it that wanted it to all be so simple?

He pulled me out for a moment to slip my shirt off before I dove back in. At this point I was practically drooling, and I began cleaning him with my tongue. He stroked my chest and back, squeezing my pecs. They felt soft beneath his firm grasp. He soon switched me to the other side and muttered to me:

“Good boy. So horny.”

I was. I was so horny. The more I licked the more my crotch throbbed. My cock was rigid at attention as he pulled me out of his pits.

He’s so hot. Need him. Need cock.

No, no my brain tried to scream, but it sounded distant. A thick fog was between me and my thoughts. Maybe it should stay that way…

My boyfriend stood up and I fell to the floor. Slowly, he began pulling off his jeans.

I instinctively turned over to receive his cock. My ass was already slick, wet in expectation. Even having sex was so simple. As he pressed his cock against my hole it slid in like a key in a lock. It just felt right. And as he gripped my shoulders and began to fuck me, each thrust felt like a thought was popped in my head. He growled a deep, primal growl as the last thoughts I ever had washed away in the waves of pleasure radiating through my body. My brain felt like the static from the machine. The only thing I had left was instinct. And instinct was telling me to ride the man behind me.

“Fu-uck- m-me- up- da-ah-ddy”

He only grunted as he increased the pace. It felt like hours as the ebbs and flows of our libidos managed to keep us both on edge, so close but never finishing. Till finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I could only manage a moan as I came all over the bedsheets.

“Fuck that’s so hot.” he said, and with one final thrust filled my guts with his dumb cum. Hehe. Cum. As he slid out I couldn’t handle any more. I passed out face down ass up on the bed.

The next morning I was horny again. And then by lunch. And then by bed time. Days blended together as we fucked, ate, worked out, and slept together. The machine next to our bed never got turned off. Wasn’t there something I was supposed to do with it? Eh, it was too complex. Best to leave it alone as I had my brain fucked out for the third time today. I don’t know how we got by. We never moved out of our house. We always got food with no problems. Anyone who came by would just do whatever we asked. The few times anyone came inside they quickly learned that it was a lot easier to simply give in. If they resisted, babe would simply take them back to the bedroom until they changed their minds. They would come out all smiles, agreeable to whatever we needed. It was as simple as that.

#male transformation #musk #transformation #fml #jockification #reality change #himboification #bro

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pink-key · 6 months

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How would Toby be with a romantic partner if he ever entered a relationship (like would he be toxic/romantic/etc??)

This will be long, buckle up, as I want to tackle multiple questions.

This is an x y/n headcanons visual thing.

Warning: Terrible writing. Might be slightly dark. Very very long

Firstly, all depends on the closeness you have with Toby.

🍨 Plaything

🍰 Congratulations, you got him interested in you. Maybe it's your overly humorous reaction to him running after you, while he was chaotically swinging his hatchets. Maybe you had a drastically different reaction to his previous victims.

🍰 Either way, he loves tormenting you; his morals are either absent or corrupt. He likes to scare you, looking into your window to your room at night, laughing and rambling nonsense once you notice him (doesn't matter which floor you live on; he can climb). He can inflict some minor or not so pain on you, especially during his episodes, from randomly swinging his weapons in anger or excitement to pushing you around. There is no particular aim in that; he just feels like it, or his mind is fogged by voices and emotions.

🍰 Contrary to popular belief, he isn't shy, he isn't easily embarrassed. He is loud, obnoxious; he will make his opinions known to you; he will comment on anything you do or any of your clothes, personal belongings, even your family. He is here to have fun, not to worry about your feelings. As long as you entertain him, he will keep you alive, driving you to madness.

🍰 He can and will find you anywhere, will make you look like an insane person to other people. He is good at hiding and is skilled at hurting physically and emotionally from a distance (throwing a rock in the head, displacing objects in the room to make one paranoid, etc.). A 2-meter-tall stalker running around with two axes after you? You're hilarious, y/n!

Coincidentally, his boss doesn't order him to kill you; maybe you don't disturb his work much, after all, he doesn't visit you all the time (his life doesn't revolve around you). Just the least when you expect him.

🍰Telling him he is disgusting or commenting his mental issues will result in an instant end, unless he would want to play a chasing game in the forest with you before that.

🍰 If you have an S/O, he will mock you for choosing such a pitiful person as a partner. Just hope he won't involve your S/O in your little games. He doesn't care about your personal life, but he sure knows how dear this relationship is to you.

🍨 "We are buddies, r-right?"

🍰 You somehow managed to survive his attacks, random outbursts, mood swings, threats and, for some reason, decided to befriend him.

Honestly, being his friend is the healthiest you can get and keep bits of your private space at the same time.

🍰 He, despite being insane, brainwashed, and amnesiac, starts to see you more than just an amusement park attraction as a cute little pet, not really an equal. Your relationship is a bit more than him having a blast using physical or mental torture on you. Your presence and personality are also fun, who knew?!

🍰 Maybe, would EVEN feel a slight parody of pity for you. Especially if you tell him your sad stories of your life. He is terrible at comforting, but if the stars align right, he can play his favorite cassettes to you with cheery songs or try to make jokes, but don't expect that to happen every time. Maybe a pat on the head would happen, usually, he would tell you to stop being sad as there are worse things to cry about.

🍰 He teases you and pranks you a lot. Doesn't matter what state you are in.

🍰 His idea of friendship is a bit twisted. You won't mind that he will destroy your belongings if he finds them annoying, right? You are friends! Friends don't hold grudges against each other! Or if he would hurt your family members or friends because they said or did something that triggered his aggression, right? Friends forgive each other! You don't mind sharing everything with him, from food to information, because friends don't keep secrets from each other!

🍰 There is a good part to this relationship. He is kinder to you. Perhaps, would bring you a cute little trinket or object stained in blood. Friends make gifts for each other! He would appreciate it if you would give him something. Be careful what you give him, as he interprets your gifts in his own way. New hoodie? Are you implying his tastes are bad? Are you mocking him?

🍰 This is also where you can shape your friendship into a seemingly normal one. Food is a safe option. Learn what he likes to convey to him that you care about him. The man needs kindness deep inside. It will confuse him; he might get angry at you, at the world without understanding why, but the long-term result is worth the risk.

🍰 If you are in danger, he might save you. Although you will bear the guilt of some hooligans being either deadly hurt or dead.

🍰 He is also more open to you. You can hold small conversations with him, discussing music, for example. However, if he is in one of his episodes or even just mood swings, he can snap, shout at you or just be mad at you for an unknown reason, while rambling something incomprehensible and leave you alone for a week or more. Violence isn't completely off the table either.

🍰 If you have an S/O (or just hangs out with friends), He can get jealous because you don't pay attention to him at that exact moment. He isn't always jealous, just sometimes. If he is in a terrible mood, might even hurt your S/O, he isn't shy at that stage to involve anyone in the mess. He can complain about your S/O. It's not advised to dispute him, as he can get angry at you. You are his friend! Why are you fighting him?

🍨 Obsessive

🍰 After a lot of talking, gifts and, if you were bold enough, light friendly physical touch, he is feeling smitten by you.

🍰 You notice weird signs of attention from him, he makes some sort of romantic gestures, but it comes off as creepy to you. For instance, he thought a fur coat is what you would like, but he didn't realise you need to work on the fur instead of giving it bloody to you.

🍰 He doesn't understand himself, his voices aren't helping him either, he is feeling hate then sickly love from one second to another. If he thinks too much about that, he twitches and tics more than usual, especially in your presence. He is more distant; he doesn't respond to you. He just sits there, shifting his eyes without focusing on anything, occasionally roughly turning to one of his auditory hallucinations.

🍰 You don't understand his ramblings or whispers, and now they are more disjointed than ever. He avoids you for a few months or even more. It worries you more than him being around you, as you're used to his presence by now. Who knows, maybe he got bored with you and just contemplates how brightly he could end your life.

🍰 He can't run from his feelings forever. As a snow during summer, he busts into your house and just dumps all his thoughts on you—just an incomprehensible jumble. You won't understand it right away until he grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into an embrace, then pushes you away, twitching, staring into your soul, waiting for your response. He doesn't say, but he already knows how you feel, even if he lies to himself. He is attentive and sensitive to human emotions, and he reads body language quite well.

🍰 You have a choice. If you deny his love, either one of things will happen. You die because he feels like it. You don't like him, if he kills you, he kills his feelings for you at the same time. Yet, there is a slim chance he can just forcefully make you like him, can lead to kidnapping, but you won't love him that way either, he would realize that, that's not right, and you are also dead in this scenario.

🍰 If you lie and accept his feelings, you won't last long, either. He notices all the slight restless movements around him, your discomfort, the way you look at him. He hates liars, so it's best to be honest and die quickly rather than slowly.

🍰 If you have a strong, twisted friendship and you learn how to talk to him, how to act when he is difficult to interact with, and you just find him with his bouquet of disorders and trauma charming in his own way, then you don't need to say much to him.

🍰 He doesn't know anything about relationships. He can come off as toxic, as his jealousy flies from low to high in a matter of moments. He is still a snappy, angry, insane serial killer, he just now sometimes apologizes if he was too rude to you. More gifts too, woo-hoo!

🍰 He is obsessive, but that also depends on a lot of circumstances. He wants to be around you as much as possible. Just your presence gives him some sort of emotional bliss when his thoughts are a bit less loud than usual. At the same time, his thoughts are chaotic and get under his skin, and he can disappear for some time. Or one of your words can trigger him; he can be violent or distant.

🍰 Dates with him are attempts to replicate what he sees in movies. He watched whatever old VHS he found in abandoned cabins or houses in the woods, so it's pretty vanilla and traditional, dare I say: eating ice cream together, watching movies, slowly dancing to some old music. He uses old pickup lines too if he feels particularly spicy.

🍰 He isn't touchy. He is touchy unless there is a sinister goal in mind or he wants to be annoying. Toby subconsciously associates touch with bullying or violence. You have to teach him to appreciate affection and kindness, and it will take you a lot of time.

🍰 Eventually, with a lot of pain he adjusts to your taction. He likes to sit next to you, shoulder pressed against yours, while resting his head on your shoulder or head, enjoying peace and silence, while you fidget with his fingers, occasionally placing brief kisses on bruises on his hand. He likes small touches. Once he learns what a surprise hug is, he abuses the life out of it. Be prepared to have mini-heart attacks when he screeches into your ear and hugs you from behind while you return from a small grocery trip back home. Other than that, his level of tactility remains the same.

🍰 His mask and goggles are also mental protection for him from the world. You notice that he takes them off when he is around you.

🍰 He is weak for compliments..even if he overthinks, in some instances, becomes angry or sad, whatever mood hits at the moment, but deep down he is squealing. He will hint at that in his own way by trying to compliment you. This is also important as at times he feels paranoid you are plotting something against him, so compliment him when you can.

🍰 Small acts, like maybe washing his bloody clothes or sewing them as they have a lot of holes, makes him intensely love you. He just stares at you, you just think he is probably hallucinating something.

🍰 Movies showed what women truly desire, so he is a gentleman, ..tries to be, so he would bring you flowers that he probably snatched from a nearby garden. Would keep the door for you, all that, his twitching, ticking, can make it unpredictable. If you're slammed by the said door on your side, trust him, he didn't mean it.

🍰 If you see him just lying down and doing nothing for days, don't try to extremely cheer him up or, goodness forbid, say "smile some more." Just be by his side, be patient. He will become cheery again soon.

🍰 He is jealous, he cares about your attention more than ever. So be careful how you act around your friends, family, or strangers if you want them to be at least alive by the morning.

🍰 His mind can be fogged by rage sometimes, so stay out of his way, he isn't in his head when he is like that.

🍰 Oh, if you have an S/O while he is in this state. No more of that S/O, maybe not you either. If anyone dares to flirt with you, no more of that person, either. You can beg Tobs to just end the lesson with a severe beating but good luck with that. He may switch his unstable bloodthirst onto you if you try too hard.

If you reach this, thank you for reading this war and peace, hope this all makes a bit of sense lmao.

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fyodere · 3 months

Text

gakuen!fyodor smut

my cold fingers running through your hair.

﹙ 💬 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), high school!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, misogyny kink, corruption kink, academic rivals, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, hairpulling, blowjobs (m receiving), underage (you and fedya are like 17), catholic guilt, wet dream, dirty thoughts ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fyodor never liked you, not with your presumption and your ability to always get the questions right in the classroom. He not only didn't like you, but he hated you, even though he despises you as woman, you constantly occupy his thoughts. However, somehow, you haunt him. Fyodor wakes up with a start, he realizes that you were present in his dreams. A dream he would pray to forget.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GAKUEN!FEDYA SMUT BABYYYY oh lord you guys don’t know how much i’m excited for this. I even made an ai bot of this concept on janitor ai. this was on my drafts since last year so excuse my grammar 😩 i hope you enjoy it !!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🔪 💬 🐈‍⬛ ⋅

Still breathless, Fyodor tried to look around to rationalize the situation. He could see straight now and his eyes were getting used to the darkness of his room.

03:27AM

Oh.

Dostoevsky sighed. It was late, he needed at least one good night of sleep for his upcoming test and cello practice. Now his body is feeling uncomfortably awkward. This was unusual, Fyodor always keep everything in check. Maybe if he tried to close his eyes, and if he lay really still, he could trick his body into falling asleep again. It was a good plan. Obvious, but still good plan. Fyodor smirked for himself as he close his eyes again, of course he always have a plan.

But then, the sudden feeling on his throat came back. His heartbeat is racing again. What is it? No, It couldn’t be…

Fyodor opened his eyes with a slight feeling of rage. He remembered.

Oh, he remembered.

And for the first time, he wished for his brilliant brain stop working. Fyodor knew how his memory was sharp, but now it feels like a big waste of time.

Fyodor had a dream. A dream that he would pray to God just to forget. Could he call it a nightmare?

It wasn’t a nightmare for sure, but it was still cursed. Maybe uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Embarrassing. Ah, how Fyodor was glad that anyone couldn’t look at his poor face at this moment. He hates when he doesn’t have full control of the situation, keeping his feelings under control was a form of not getting lost, he is used to it.

Fyodor doesn’t dream regularly. He was a really sleepy or not sleep at all type of person. When his body finally gives in to fatigue, the dreams become blurry because of his mind’s tiredness. But Fyodor doesn’t mind at all, Dostoevsky couldn’t see the mystical side of dreaming. For him, this was only a way for his mind process everything that he saw through the day.

That’s why his friends appear regularly when he dream about something. Sometimes his family when his subconscious is trying to process his past — even though Fyodor is neutral about most of his dreams, he would consider these the bad ones. Or at least the ones that he would like to forget.

But it wasn’t that type of bad dream either.

When Nikolai or Sigma appear on his dreams things get a lot lighter. It always ended up being a relief. Sometimes he chuckles for himself in the most unfortunate moments remembering those. Fyodor let a nasal laugh come out when this thoughts come on his mind.

No. This wasn’t the answer yet. His dream hadn’t been any of those things, but he is getting close.

He dreamt of you.

You.

This wasn’t surprising for him though. Fyodor knows — Oh God, how bad he knows — how he keeps you on his mind. Fyodor could justify himself telling that you’re his rival and it’s normal having plans about the next provocative thing he is going to say when you guys met again, or spend time thinking about how he is going to destroy you in the upcoming test.

Fyodor could pretend that he was fooling himself with those false conclusions, but he knows the truth, he always knows. It’s the greatest Dostoevsky after all, the special child that was gifted, or even better, blessed with his brain.

But it wasn’t the case, and Fyodor knows that too. He always knows. Another sigh came out of his mouth, Fyodor closed his eyes and take another deep breath. When did he allowed himself feeling this emotions? This wasn’t right. But he can’t keep torturing himself, maybe just for tonight he will allow all those thoughts come — Just for releasing them in the next day, of course.

Fyodor still could feel the warmth. It was cleaning day and you were his duo, this mean that you’re going to be together for a while. It may sound exhausting, you guys were rivals and have a psychological war while cleaning was kind of messed up. You guys were in a silent truce. No one had to flag this, you both could read the situation — And each other’s thoughts, even though you’re not going to admit that —, you payed too much attention on him just like he recorded every reaction of you. From your facial expressions from your small and smooth body movements. Every detail.

Well, it’s not like you could run away. You also committed your sins when spent too much time looking at Fyodor bitting his thumb while he was concentrating, you hated how playful yet majestic his actions are. Everything about him just fitted so perfectly that you couldn’t help but feel some anger— Or just full yourself to believe that you’re not feeling other type of intense feeling beside rage.

You were sweeping the classroom’s floor while Fyodor cleaned the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was turning into a beautiful orange color slowly turning darker as the clouds complemented it. Suddenly, everything felt warm. Fyodor was looking at you by the window reflection, he also could see how much he was staring and this made he feel ashamed. You could feel Fyodor’s piercing gaze even though he wasn’t even looking directly. You couldn’t help but give a small smirk.

“Looks like someone can’t focus on his little task…” You said playfully, your eyes were still looking at the floor while you sweeps. You wanted to give that unbothered impression. “Am I distracting you?” You finally looked up, he was still looking at the window. You could hear his sigh — It almost sound like a laugh.

How presumptuous. Fyodor thought. And you know that he thought that. It make you chuckle, this unexpected harmony was slowly tying you two together.

“Oh.” Dostoevsky finally turned to you. His silently confidence makes you want to shut his mouth before he even dare to speak a word. “Oh, darling, I almost forgot that you are here.” Now was Fyodor’s time to be presumptuous, and he knows how this will get into your nerves. “Trying to get an excuse to talk to me, ah? How cute.”

You let a tsk come out. Fyodor felt victorious keeping you silent. Now you’re looking at the floor again, sweeping the classroom. Even though your eyes were focused the task, your ears still work perfectly. And you heard Fyodor’s slow footsteps getting closer. You know he is behind of you now, but you try to play clueless.

“Hmmm…” Fyodor is getting closer to you, he is speaking next to your ear. Your body gets tense. “What is it now? Little mouse got scared?” His voice almost sound like a whisper, a very teasing one. His breath is touching your neck and ear. Where did his russian accent became so provocative? Now his hands are slowly moving to your waist.

Fyodor likes how you look small next to him. You look so vulnerable, so easy to tease. He can’t let you scape now. Now his hands travel till they reach out your upper body. Dostoevsky couldn’t help, he squeezes your uniform letting it wrinkled. Your breath got heavy as he keeps touching you, unfortunately, you catch yourself biting your lip to not let a moan slide. Fyodor’s touch feel so great, he loves how his big and skilled hands can hug perfectly your curves and play with them.

“Wait…” You finally open say something after opening and closing your mouth for a while, your voice is a little shaky and a few sighs come when you talk. “Not here, what if somebody—“

“Hm?” Fyodor cut you off abruptly. He doesn’t like when you complain, he likes to have full control of the situation. “I’m not doing anything, darling. Am I?” Now his hands squeeze you more roughly, as if he wants to get a better reaction from you. The russian young man has a smug look on his face. You look so fragile and easy to mess with. He enjoys the sense of control, Fyodor is taking the lead now, and you feel like a loser for enjoying it so much — It’s like screaming that you lost.

Dostoevsky's eyes widened slightly, and his fingers tightened around your waist, making you feel uncomfortable. He didn't seem to notice your pain, though. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your neck. His mouth was cold and dry, but you could still feel his tongue licking your exposed sensitive skin. When he finally pulled away, he smiled, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He let go of you and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. He seemed to have forgotten about your existence entirely. You felt like nothing more than a toy he played with when he got bored.

Dostoevsky is silent for a moment, contemplating whether to continue or not. He looks at you with a half-smile, a hint of cruelty in his eyes. He knows how to play with words and actions, and he takes advantage of every opportunity to make sure that you´re miserable and uncomfortable around him. He is not someone who shows affection or warmth, and he is definitely not someone who is good at expressing feelings. He is a cold, calculating man who sees everything in terms of power and control. His tone is still harsh, but there's a hint of softness in his voice when he says. "You're not doing anything?"

You decided to act like a greedy whore and got into your knees.

Fyodor pulls down his pants and underwear, revealing his cock, which is already hard. He strokes it slowly, watching you closely. He seems to enjoy the way you react to his actions. He keeps on talking, his voice is still harsh, but there's a certain amount of tenderness in his tone. He doesn't want you to feel bad, just frustrated and unhappy. He is a sadistic bastard, but he has a soft side too. And it shows in the way he treats you. "Now, tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Or would you prefer me to beat you? Which one do you like better?"

"Hit me. I challenge you." You giggle in a act of courage. "I know you can’t—" Fyodor chuckles darkly, a sign of his humor. He's not laughing at you, he's just teasing you. He slaps you across the face, hard enough to make you cry, but not enough to draw blood. He leans in close, whispering in your ear. "Tell me, how do you like being treated like a piece of meat? A toy to be played with? A slave to obey? Because that's what you are, isn't it? You're nothing but a whore, a filthy, worthless piece of shit."

Fyodor was merciless. He didn’t care about the brimming tears in the corner of your eyes, didn’t care about your shaking legs or your small chokes.

Slobbering sound filled the small stall, and you sat on the floor obediently like a little puppy as he used your mouth to his liking. Your uniform was wholly unbuttoned, bundled up at your elbows with your nipples peeking from your bra.

It was always his favorite look on you, clothed in the school’s garb. The uniform that should represent your focus on studies and discipline is wearing for you choke on him. Fyodor has to admit how pleasing it is, it arouses him to the point of madness.

“Good little mouse, now, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He commanded once more in a commanding but still seductive tone. He was loving this, the power is was feeling. His smirk grew as he continued, he was loving every second of this.

His eyes were dark and sinister now, they were almost completely in a reddish purple tone. His pupils are comically big due the excitement. He seemed so in control now. He loved it.

Fyodor smirked once more as you do as asked. You seemed to be getting really into this now.

Your tongue pressed wide and flat. Fyodor shuddered at the feeling, at your tongue rubbing over his slit, precum oozing out. You did it again and Fyodor let a moan slide out, you was pressing the tip of your tongue into his slit now, coaxing out more of his essence. Dostoevsky loved the feeling, he loved how pathetic you look like this.

It was so intense, the sight of your lips curled around his cock, how piercing his arouse gaze was. You hummed before sinking down, swallowing as much of Fyodor’s length as he could. Dostoevsky was panting, the feeling so intense that it was almost overwhelming. You began to suck harshly, cheeks hallowed out and you was bobbing your head now as well, head going up and down as you sucked Fyodor’s cock. The russian didn’t want to say it loud, but he wasn’t going to last.

"Good little mouse, I knew you could do it." He said in a soft and seductive tone, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hands moved to your head now, he loved the feeling of her hair in his hand. He seemed a little proud, even. He felt like he had helped you, in a way. "Good girl..." He whispered as he gently stroke your hair.

You keep sucking him harshly, enjoying how he felt warm inside of you. You couldn’t help but let a few tears coming out. The intelligent girl with a sharp tongue was gone, now you’re just a little whore to Fyodor play with — and you both sightly love this.

“Do you like to be dominated by a man like me, little mouse? Are you such a submissive little girl?” He asked with a smirk. He seemed to be amused by the whole situation, by all the control that he holds now. You can almost feel that he was about to release.

You felt your panties dampening as he say that, he grabbed a fistful of your hair keeping your head in your place as he changed the pace to a quicker one, accelerating the beats of your heart. He was pulsing inside your mouth. He was so close, so close, so close…

Fyodor just couldn’t resist. The wet and warm feeling of your mouth along with your pity puppy face was driving him crazy. You are being so obedient to him. He need to fill your mouth a little more, just a little more…

“Jesus.” Fyodor said to himself, alone in his room. The dream was wild, he feels pretty ashamed by how sinful and dirty his mind can be when he is asleep, at least you will never know that. Right now he just want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but this weird feeling don’t leave. His hair still feel sticky and his forehead sweaty. His skin felt so tight like a growing claustrophobic feeling.

Oh, wait.

Dostoevsky looked down to his pants with a disgusted face. How shameful of him. Now that he has knowledge of the weird feeling on his body it’s easier to ignore.

Ah, for sure he isn’t going to go anything about that besides ignore. Fyodor genuinely believe that masturbation is a stupid thing, he is not going to waste his time — and risk his inner pride doing such a thing.

Dostoevsky closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths, he just needed to clean his mind. Maybe counting one to one hundred could help, Fyodor just need to take you away from his thoughts.

He just didn’t expected how addictive this fantasies are.

hii heres part two <3

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut #bsd gakuen

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cloakedsparrow · 24 days

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Commissioner Jim Gordon figured out Bruce Wayne was Batman early on in their partnership but he needed all the help he could get cleaning up Gotham, so he figured he’d let it go as long as he maintained plausible deniability and as long as Batman didn’t do anything too reckless or damning (like killing someone or getting a civilian killed).

He could tell that Batman genuinely wanted to help and he honestly grew to respect him, so he decided if it ever looked like he needed to pull the plug on Batman, he could just quietly inform him that he knew his identity but he wouldn’t have to pursue it if he just stopped.

He almost did just that when Robin entered the picture. Because that was not a grown man with training and intellect in a combat-ready suit. That was a child in a leotard and pixie boots. Of course, Robin was obviously Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s new ward. And, yeah, the kid was a remarkably gifted acrobat, but still. What the fuck was Batman thinking?

A few captured crooks and a couple overheard conversations later and Gordon realized that this was Bruce attempting to reign in Dick. He decided he’d let it go for a while and see if the situation didn’t just take care of itself.

It did, but not in the way Gordon had assumed, where Bruce eventually got Dick to stop. Instead, the kid turned out to be a brilliant vigilante. So as much as the idea of a kid fighting criminals in a leotard upset him, Gordon decided to let it go as long as the boy seemed more or less safe (and also didn’t cross certain lines).

Then Batgirl appears and Gordon is even more concerned because Batman also doesn’t seem to know who this girl is. That’s concerning. She’s wearing his symbol. One fuck up from her could ruin everything Batman (and Gordon) have built. All the goodwill with the non-corrupt detectives and citizens of Gotham could be destroyed overnight. There’s no way to prove she has nothing to do with Batman shy of unmasking one or the other or both.

So Gordon decides to look into Batgirl, because that’s the lesser of two evils at this point, and it turns out she’s his daughter. Because of course Barbara would do something like this. Fuck his life.

Then Nightwing enters the picture. Before Gordon can worry about this new vigilante too much, Nightwing shows him the cute little deputy badge he’d given Robin and repeats some of his own words back to him, proving Nightwing is Dick Grayson. Which, good for him. At least he came up with a better suit. Gordon hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he’d been getting a little too old for the pixie boots.

Then there’s a new Robin, which is obviously Bruce Wayne’s newly adopted son, Jason Todd. Barbara is still acting as Batgirl, so Gordon figures he doesn’t have any room to be judgmental of Batman’s parenting choices at this point. At least Batman keeps his kid with him while he’s fighting crime. It’s more than Gordon can claim.

Then, the worst comes to pass. Jason Todd dies.

Batman tried to kill the Joker, so there’s no point in guessing how that happened. Gordon feels terrible. He feels even worse when Batman is clearly losing it and, as much as he understands (Barbara could have been killed instead of crippled, and just for answering her father’s door), he can’t let it continue. He’s going to have to show his hand and threaten Bruce Wayne.

As if by some miracle, Batman starts getting better before he has to act. Gordon assumed he’d either sought help or just worked through the worst phase of his grief…until another Robin shows up.

The kid is wearing a different suit that covers (protects) more of him. He’s constantly perched on something so Gordon can’t get a definite estimation of his height. The hair could always be dyed or a wig. Overall, there’s not much to go on identity-wise. It’s certainly not Jason Todd after faking his death or being revived somehow (it’s Gotham, stranger things have happened). This is definitely a different kid. He’s smaller, younger, paler, and he doesn’t move or sound like either of the previous Boy Wonders.

Bruce Wayne does not have another son. He does not have another ward. No nephew or godson or the like. So who the fuck is this kid?!

The new kid is really good. Batman is doing really good with him. Gordon would be very happy with this progress except that he still has no idea where the kid came from. He’s taken to going over missing person reports, but it’s Gotham (there’s a lot) and he doesn’t even have a decent description of the new Robin to work with.

He tried saying something to Robin once, after Batman ditched them on the roof of GCPD. The kid had stopped him and told him that he’d given the adults their chance to fix it but they didn’t, so he’s taking care of it now. Then the unknown child jumped off the roof and fired off a grapple to follow Batman. Gordon has no idea what to make of that but he feels like he should be a little ashamed, at least.

After what feels like a year of mental torment, Janet Drake is murdered and Jack Drake is left in a coma that he may or may not recover from. Then Gordon learns that Bruce Wayne has quietly assumed custody of their son, Tim Drake.

There is no paper trail of any kind between the Drakes and Bruce Wayne. If the Drake boy is Robin, then Gordon has no idea how that came to be. If he isn’t Robin, then he still has no idea who the current Boy Wonder is.

The mystery of this particular Robin will continue to haunt him for years.

Bruce loses custody of the Drake boy, but there doesn’t appear to be any change in Batman and Robin.

Suddenly, Robin is gone with no explanation and there’s a girl in the role for a couple weeks but then she’s fired and starts a gang war that claims thousands of lives including, apparently, her own. Then maybe-Tim-Drake-maybe-not Robin is back.

Bruce takes permanent custody of the Drake boy, and there still doesn’t appear to be any change in Batman and Robin.

Then there’s a new suit but it appears to be the same Robin, just sadder. Then Bruce Wayne’s biological son shows up and, lo and behold, there’s a new Robin. With a chip on his shoulder the size of Wayne Manor and a fucking sword. Gordon actually misses the Robin that had been confusing the hell out of him for the past several years.

Then there’s a Red Robin. Then he's gone and there’s two very different Robins operating at the same time. Gordon’s pretty sure the one that isn’t Damian Wayne is the one that’s been a constant source of headaches and nicotine cravings for the past four years, but he still can’t be sure who the little shit is.

#dc #comics #ficlet #fanfiction #bat family #commissioner gordon #jim gordon #bruce wayne #batman #robin #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #tim wayne #damian wayne #barbara gordon #batgirl #oracle #stephanie brown

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

I Love You, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, violent murder but not described in depth, possessive behavior, obsession, loss and anxiety, light smut, manhandling of the reader by Din

Word Count: 4,500

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Sequel to 'Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika'

"i am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me."

It wasn’t until the second half of your first hour trapped that you realized the chain around your ankle wasn’t just metal. It was beskar. The links branched together were long enough to allow you to walk to the neighboring bathroom, but not long enough to reach the door out. The horror of your situation was truly settling into your very soul. Din had locked you away. Din. The man you loved. And the worst part, as if any of this could possibly be worse, was the fact that he only knew you had tried to run away hours ago.

When exactly did he have this chain made?

You spent the rest of your morning trying to rip the chain out of the wall where it was connected to no avail, and when that didn’t work you somehow tried to pull your ankle out of the clasp. It was impossible. The clasp was just tight enough on your skin that you would not be slipping it unless you started considering something much more dramatic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You tugged and screamed until your ankle was discolored and your throat was raw.

Then you broke. Quite some time ago, before your extensive Jedi training, you had quite the temper. It took years for you to get a handle on controlling it, but these last few months the frustration and worry had slowly whittled down your very being. So, for the first time in a very long time, you threw a tantrum. You knocked over the nightstand by your bed, hurling every single item you could reach, and destroyed everything that was in your path.

When you were spent, exhausted from the emotional and physical turmoil, you slumped against the wall panting for breath. Your legs splayed out in front of you so you could glare at the beskar that wrapped around your ankle. You felt so pathetic and vulnerable. It didn’t help that you only wore your undergarments and one of Din’s shirts. It had been what you fell asleep in last night while curled up to the man who chained you to a wall.

The bedroom door opened and Din froze in the doorway. You watched his eyes scan the room in shock before they landed on you. He let out a breath of disbelief, “Cyar’ika.”

“I don’t think I want you to call me that right now.” You said.

Din’s shoulders slumped and he had the audacity to look hurt at your words. As if he hadn’t chained you to a fucking wall. He stepped into the room and shrugged out of his robe⏤ tossing it onto the bed as he neared. Din’s eyes landed on your ankle and his eyes widened. “Me’bana!?” He knelt down to take hold of your ankle, but you tried to pull your legs in to avoid his touch. Din, refusing your refusal, grabbed you by the calf and dragged you toward him.

“Get off!” You barked and kicked out at him.

Din pinned you to the floor using his weight to keep your hips down and a hand to pin your wrists above your head. The emotion on his face as he stared down at you was not one of anger or even frustration. It was desperate. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Dank farrik, you already have. Don’t make it worse.”

“You think I care?” You spat your words at him, squirming. “I don’t! I’ll do what I have to if it means⏤”

Din’s other hand snapped up to grab you by the jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheek, not painful but firm, and his face darkened. Anger finally seeped into his features. “I said, stop. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt yourself.” You sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. Hand still on your jaw. Din’s eyes closed as he spoke. “You are going to sit still while I take care of you. Understand? This is not up for debate, cyar’ika.”

You didn’t respond. Refused to. Din let out a soft sigh before releasing your jaw and wrists. He sat up and pulled his weight off of you. Slowly, you sat up and chose to just sit there. He pulled his gloves off, tossing them aside in the mess you had already made of the room, and with a tender touch he pulled your leg into his lap. Din’s warm fingers shifted the beskar so he could peer at the skin beneath it. He hissed at the sight of your already forming bruises⏤ the discoloration would be worse tomorrow.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Din shook his head. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Myself?” You scoffed. “You’re the one who put me in chains, Din!”

“To keep you⏤”

“Safe?” You finished for him, but you spat the word bitterly. Din wilted and continued to carefully trace your sore skin. It bothered you that his touch brought you comfort, but that wasn’t something you could just turn off. “When did you have this chain made, Din?” He didn’t reply. “It’s made of beskar. You didn’t just swing out and pick it up. You had it made. When did you⏤”

“Three weeks ago.” Din kept his eyes downcast, glued to your ankle. You took in a sharp breath. It would have been less painful, less shocking, if Din had just reached out and slapped you. Three weeks ago? How long did he have this planned? His warm brown eyes met yours⏤ a gaze you had always been weak to. Your face must have shown your betrayal because Din squeezed your calf softly. “I never planned to use it. I never wanted to use it.”

“But you did.” You mumbled the words out.

Din winced. “I know, cyar’ika. I know. I’m sorry. You will never understand how sorry I am⏤ I will spend the rest of my life trying to remind you. I⏤” He sighed and his thumb traced lazy circles against your skin where it sat. “More than anything though, my love, I need to protect you. I cannot lose you. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“You’re losing me right now, baby.” You shook your head. Tears springing up. “You’re breaking my heart, you’re losing my trust⏤” Din squeezed his eyes shut. Pained and devastated. “How do you think this will end?”

“You will understand. One day.” Din said firmly. He spoke like he was trying to convince himself of this. “Until then, I am just doing what is necessary.” Din rose to find the first aid kit and when he returned you just stared at him. He knelt down once more and wrapped padding around your ankle so the metal wasn’t touching bare skin anymore. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he carefully held your arms and pulled you up to stand. Din cupped your face with his hands, setting a tender kiss on the top of your head before choosing to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika.”

This wasn’t love, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

The only times you were unchained from the wall was when you were with Din. He’d take your hand in his and the two of you would wander down the halls or outside of the castle. Always two Mandalorian guards lingering behind you both. You had one arm looped through Din’s. His thick robe draped over your shoulders once more.

“Bo thinks offering an olive branch would make us seem weak. I’m inclined to agree with her.” Din thought aloud. Most of these walks were him talking to you about his day. You didn’t offer much more than the occasional hum or a snide comment if he pressed too hard. That’s what two weeks of being chained like an animal could do to you. “We have more power than them. It wouldn’t be too difficult to overtake them.”

You hummed. Din glanced down at you and his arm squeezed around yours. There was hope shining in his eyes as if he was eager to hear you offer any sort of commentary. You focused your gaze forward. “The Din I fell in love with wouldn’t jump head first into a war.” His steps stuttered. “He’d try for peace.”

“Cyar’ika.” Din came to a slow stop and turned to face you. His other hand lifted to rest on yours. It trapped your hand against his forearm. “I am the man you fell in love with. That has not changed.” Your eyes darted down to the darksaber hanging from his belt. Din sighed. “This is still about the saber?”

You shook your head. “It always will be. That damned saber has changed you.”

“It hasn’t⏤”

“It has!” You yanked your arm away from his and took a step back. Anger flaring once more. “I keep telling you. It’s poison.” The energy that surrounded it felt suffocating, but it had only gotten worse these last few days. The possession was still there and now it’s tendrils seemed to be trying to seep out into your very soul. As if it could convince you that it had good intentions. “It’s me or the darksaber, Din.”

He shook his head and you shoved him once in the chest. He barely stumbled back. The Mandalorian guards leapt forward, hands on their weapons in preparation to take out the threat against their King, but Din threw his arm out to stop them. The glare he leveled in their direction was deadly. They both took sheepish steps away. Din focused back on you and the anger in his eyes dissipated back into despair. “You can’t make me choose.” He sighed. “We’ve talked about this. I need the darksaber to keep you safe.”

“We’re just going to argue in circles forever, aren’t we?” You sighed.

Din stepped closer and caressed your face. He leaned in to capture you in a kiss, but you turned at the last second so his lips pressed against your cheek instead. Since the morning you woke up with a beskar anklet, you hadn’t let Din touch you. The first night he slipped into bed behind you, just to sleep, and you had lost your mind. Now, he slept on the small couch that was pushed against the wall in your living space. He pulled back enough that his lips were no longer touching you, but he didn’t stray far.

“I love you, cyar’ika.”

He truly believed it, but obsession⏤ possession⏤ was not love.

At the month mark, you knew things needed to change. Din was too stubborn to concede. He’d keep you chained to that fucking wall forever. So, you started small. You had to play this smart. It began with little things like thanking him when he brought you food or new gifts. Choosing to participate in conversations when the two of you went on walks around the palace. A lingering touch here and there when you were able, and you never shied away from his own touch.

Still, a sudden change in demeanor would give you away. Din, as blinded as he was by the darksaber, was not an idiot. He’d see through your act in seconds, and the fate of his and your life depended on deceiving him. You had to get off this rock. You had to get to help. After thinking about it long and hard, you decided you needed to get to Skywalker. The other Jedi were your best bet. It was just a matter of getting there.

Oddly, your saving grace came in the form of an attack.

Because Din never kept you fully in the loop of the things happening in Mandalore, you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Being chained to the wall when the explosions started did not help either. For the first fifteen minutes of the disaster all you could do was stand in place, frozen, while straining to listen. Eventually, the explosions stopped, but it was replaced with yelling and thundering footsteps. Not a good sign. As it got closer and closer you searched the room for a weapon or hiding the place. You wouldn’t fit under the bed and even if you hid in the bathroom there would be a chain lying on the floor leading straight to you.

The yelling came right out the door and you didn’t even have time to register the language or tone before the door itself was kicked open. Pirates. That was your best guess. Three men dressed for a fight stepped into your space. Two humans and one Trandoshan. They spoke a language you didn’t recognize, something from the Outer Rims, but even when addressing you they never swapped to Basic. One of the humans took a step closer, smirking, and you shifted to a ready stance. The last time you had felt so ill prepared for a fight was back when you first began your Jedi training.

Even on a good day, back before Din spiraled into his current state, you were not good at using the Force. Reading energies was your strength, but healing and telekinesis was never your forte. Now? Being as stressed and buried in negative energy as you were, it was nearly non-existent. Every day you spent around the darksaber you felt further from the Force for some Maker forsaken reason. The Force you recognized, at least.

The Trandoshan began to rummage through the room scavenging, but the two human men were still approaching you. They laughed and motioned to the chain around your ankle as they spoke to one another. Cautiously, you took a few steps back so the chain’s tension wouldn’t accidentally catch you. When the first man lunged you met him halfway with an uppercut into his throat. It was a blur of muscle memory and desperation from then. You weren’t doing well, you were surviving, but when one of the men got their hands on the chain they were able to pull your legs out from under you.

You roughly landed on your back with a grunt, but the other man was quick to pin you down. You thrashed and screamed trying to get loose, but the other just piled on. Their voices were grating, their laughs sent chills down your spine, and their touch made you nauseous. It all boiled into an uncontrollable rage that slipped from your body with a roar. Suddenly, both men were blown clear across the room. You sat up, breathing hard, and glanced down at your hands. Had you just…? There was no time to puzzle through the power that just flowed from you because the Trandoshan leapt across the room to tackle and pin you back to the floor.

He didn’t have a firm grip on you, and you were able to flip over on him. The victory was short lived when he threw his elbow back, crushing your nose, and you cried out in pain before falling back. The other two men had risen once more, but all of you froze at the terrible roar that echoed down the hall and filled the room with a suffocating tension. It called out your name. You recognized that voice.

In that one moment, a feral pleasure gripped your soul and allowed your anger to roam free. You grinned up at the men, teeth bloody from your broken nose, “You’re fucked.”

Din stalked into the room, seconds later, and he was possessed by his own rage. The darksaber glowed in his hands, as bright as a burning flame, and it cast terrifying shadows across his face which was twisted in hatred⏤ in bloodlust. With the first swing of the saber, the men knew they were not going to bode well and they began to plead, but their words fell on deaf ears. You watched as Din tore them to shreds, a force to be reckoned with, and a sick grin flickered across your features before you could reign it back. Din was leaving the men in literal pieces, brutal in his attack and inflicting the most terror and pain he could manage before taking a life, and you felt a bubbling pleasure building in your chest.

It was only when his warpath was finished, when he deactivated the saber, that your smile fell. The tendrils of pleasure that had seeped into your very soul with watching the love of your life murder on your behalf slipped away. You took in a sharp breath. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck had you⏤ Your hands began to tremble followed quickly by the rest of your body.

“Cyar’ika.” Din gasped and crossed through the carnage to pull you off the ground and into his arms. His panicked words all came out in a rush of Mando’a before he was calm enough to ask once more in Basic. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His gloves wiped away the blood as he examined your nose. “Are you⏤”

“I’m fine.” You replied shakily, but you felt far from it. Physically, there was nothing wrong. Not really. Your nose would heal, the bruises you garnered in the fight would fade. But mentally, spiritually, emotionally… Your eyes drifted down to the darksaber on his belt. What was it doing to you? It took a moment to realize Din was still talking. You shook your head. “What?”

“I said that was the last of them. They came for revenge, but most of the damage was external. Only a few small groups got into the palace.” Din’s hands were petting your hair. Between every word of comfort he’d lean forward and press his lips to your face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Focus. Focus. Back to the plan. Back to your mission.

“No.” You swallowed roughly. “I need the chain off.” Din didn’t respond. He just stared at you with wide eyes filled with the fear of a man who had nearly lost the person he swore to protect. You lifted your hands to cup his face and you shook your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not losing me. I’m not losing you. You were right.” You pushed the words out and the tears that fell from your eyes were painfully real. You cried for how lost you felt. It was like you were stuck in quicksand and the more you struggled the deeper you were pulled to it’s dark depths. “I was so scared. I couldn’t fight back. Din⏤”

Din didn’t hesitate. He knelt down and pulled a key from the pouch in his belt to unclasp the metal around your ankle. Hearing it clatter to the ground, feeling the weight drop off, had you sucking in a breath of shock and relief. Din slowly rose once more and you found yourself lost in his eyes⏤ those pretty brown eyes that made you forget every single worry you had. The warm brown eyes that brought you comfort in your lowest moments. The loving brown eyes that gazed at you in worship.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled and cupped his face again.

Din turned his head to press a kiss against your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, cyar’ika.”

Your fingers tightened around him and a shuddering sob left your lips. “Do you love me?” Din looked affronted by the question. His mouth fell open, but you cut him off. “Baby, just listen, if you love me you’ll put the saber away for tonight.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a hiccup left your lips. “Please, baby, just tonight. I just want you. I want only you.”

Din took a slow breath and then took a step out from your grasp. Fear struck you at first, but Din simply crossed the room to his locked chest which sat in the corner. Slowly, he unlatched each piece of his armor and set it carefully into the chest. When he was left with only his flight suit, Din grasped the darksaber and held it in his bare hand for a moment. Finally, he set it into the chest and closed it. The cursed item was just tucked away, out of sight, but it still made a difference. The unrecognizable dark energy that had been plaguing you seemed to disperse and a familiar sensation filled your chest. It was the Force you recognized. For the first time in a month, you felt like you could breathe.

He walked back to where you stood and settled a soft and hesitant hand on the side of your face, “I do love you, cyar’ika. I know this has been difficult and you haven’t been happy.” Din looked heartbroken as he stared down at you. “But you are everything to me.”

This may have started as just a plan to ease him into a lull of security, but that had been forgotten as you stared up at him. For this one second you felt like yourself, and Din felt like himself. A swell of love overwhelmed you and you pushed closer to capture his lips with yours. Din sighed into the kiss, but before you could deepen it he pulled back. “Din?”

“We don’t have to do this, cyar’ika.” Din whispered. “You were just attacked, stressed, and⏤ This⏤ This isn’t… I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head and it was the absolute truth. Right now, Din felt like the man you loved. Maybe it was weak of you to cave, weak of you to seek out his comfort, but you missed him. You craved him. “I want you, and as long as you want me⏤”

Din brought his lips back to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck, as he softly kissed you. Every minute movement filled with adoration. You wrapped your arms around his neck to draw yourself closer to him. Pulling back to catch a breath, he left a trail of kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Cyar’ika, I always want you.” His hands settled on your hips to bring you flush against him. “I always need you.”

Your hands grew frantic wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. Just like in a fight, you didn’t need to think. Loving him was muscle memory. You peeled the upper half of his flight suit off his body and he took gasping breaths as you broke away from his kiss to caress the scarred skin of his torso. Your nails lightly raked over the skin overlying his ribs as you leaned in to press soft kisses against every scar you could find. Din trembled at your touch, a breathless gasp tearing ragged from his lips.

His own hands lifted to tilt your face up so he could lean down and start a tender kiss. Every slow, languid motion was one born of love rather than lust. There was an innocence to the brushes of skin against skin, and for this one moment nothing existed but you and Din. Not the poisonous darksaber buried in a chest or the corpses of the men that meant you harm. As Din picked you up and pinned you into the bed, his weight pressing into you, all that mattered was Din Djarin.

“I love you, cyar’ika.” Din murmured into the skin of your neck⏤ his face buried there as his hands roamed your body with a familiarity born of routine. “I love you so much, cyar’ika.”

Your heart felt so full, and you wondered if you were the one confused on the extent of what the word love could mean.

Din laughed and you lightly shoved him in the side.

“It’s not funny. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, cyar’ika.” He replied as you grinned. “I’m laughing with you.”

“Yeah, I’m not laughing, you ass.”

He continued to chuckle and you shook your head before looping your arm back through his and leaning against him. Mandalore had been relatively calm since the attack two weeks ago, and you had never felt closer to Din. What had you been so worried about? The two of you were safe and had one another. That was all that mattered at the end of the day. You had misjudged the darksaber’s energy. That possession was just another form of loyalty. It brought you and Din the strength to protect one another. A bond. That’s all it was.

“My Mand’alor.”

Din’s feet paused, bringing you to a stop as well, and you both turned to face a Mandalorian who now knelt before the both of you. The woman held a hand across her chest in pledge. Din didn’t motion for the woman to rise, but hummed for her to continue.

“Our allies who have settled on Concordia are requesting aid currently. Raiders have been plaguing them the last few weeks, but now they are beginning to edge in on the main settlement.”

“Concordia has the means to defend itself...” Din replied.

You squeezed his arm and he glanced down at you. You shook your head. “Concordia is not Mandalore, they’re just allies that⏤ like you said⏤ have their own resources.” Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “We have to protect our own. Any aid we offer to them is taken from our own walls. Our city should come first, Din.”

Din lifted your hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. “Could not have said it better myself, cyar’ika.” He motioned for the Mandalorian to be on her way before the two of you continued down the hall. Only a few yards later, Din chuckled. “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, do you?” You asked with a smirk.

He pulled you to a stop once more “Close your eyes.”

“Really?”

Din raised an eyebrow at you and you playfully rolled your eyes before closing them and holding your hands out. You heard the sound of shuffling as Din moved. A beat later something warm settled in your palms and you sucked in a sharp breath at the overwhelming flood of emotions that bared down on you. Your eyes opened to first see Din’s excited and loving smile, but then your gaze drifted down to the lightsaber in your open hands.

“I figure it’s about time you’re reunited.” Din chuckled. It had been nearly two months since it had been taken from you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your fingers slowly closed around the hilt you had built with love so long ago, and waves of warmth radiated down your arms and into your chest. “I⏤” A different voice called out and Din sighed in irritation. “One moment.”

Din stepped around you to address whoever had called out for him and you just stared and stared at the lightsaber. Possession and obsession was not love. It was not the same as loyalty and protection. You blinked in shock as the clear thoughts cut through the fog you hadn't even realized you were living in. You had been yourself, but for some reason your priorities had changed starkly. Not for some reason. One reason. That fucking saber.

"Hey." Din returned to your side and you heard panic in his voice. Those dark tendrils from the saber surrounded you, but could not sink in. He set his hand on your face and his thumb caressed your cheek. "You're crying."

"I...I'm happy." You lied. "Thank you, Din."

"Of course." Din replied though he looked hesitant to believe you. He leaned in to press a kiss between your eyes. "I love you, cyar'ika."

You loved him, and you almost lost yourself.

But, not again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #female reader #reader insert #dark!din djarin #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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Get Off My Screen Series Headcanons:

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates guys! Currently working on two interludes I'll be posting back to back later so for now- have some headcanons I have for both Vox and Reader! Btw, if you guys have scenarios you still want to see with Reader being alive- you can send those in! I'll try writing drabbles for them if ever.

Knowing Vox, he had snooped around your stuff and files when you were alive.

From sorting your files because of the haphazard arrangement-

To straight up just leaning everything he could about you.

He'd saved a few of your pictures over the time you both got to know each other better.

At the start, he was just curious and nonchalant.

Cuz I mean, he's talking with a living soul?

That's gotta be worth something right?

But in trying to get closer to manipulate you-

Vox ended up actually becoming your friend.

Your sassy and spitfire nature kept him interested, kind of like a game.

You didn't take his shit and neither did he with yours.

At first he thought you were just insufferably annoying and acted accordingly.

Then it would shift ever so slowly to him just expecting your antics.

Then him looking forward to them.

It was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise monotonous and frankly very depressing afterlife.

Also his tiny desktop pet in your computer?

That existed solely because he was irritated enough that you had the gall to download another digital companion.

Bring it up though and he'll just blow you off in flustered anger.

The internet search engines like Google, Firefox, bing- etc. were accessible to him on your gadgets, but not social media.

So he couldn't mess with your friends, which was why they didn't know about him even until your premature death.

Well, they do kinda know about him-

As that odd online friend of yours that you were always talking to or subconsciously about.

Similarly on Vox's end, despite his dumbass being terminally online-

He somehow ends up on his phone even more because of you.

Valentino is expectedly pissy about it.

Especially because Vox won't actually explain what's going on.

Over the months Vox got invested into your relationship-

His on-off with the pimp shifted into a more permanent off.

Like, at the start things would be practically the same-

But over time he'd sleep with Val less and less.

To the point he didn't let the moth touch him if he knew there were any sexual undertones.

Vox didn't see the point in partaking in something he didn't want to be in.

You on the other hand went through your fair share of crushes and blind dates.

Something that irked the overlord slightly, even if he didn't know why at the time.

His possessivenessprotectiveness only got worse after you both started talking via your TV.

He'd slightly wanted to have a proper conversation between you two that wasn't just texting.

Vox was also prone to blowing up your phone at random points in the day when he was bored.

Or when he saw you weren't giving him enough attention.

Wouldn't ever admit it but he likes being the center of your attention.

He's already got the eyes and ears of so many people with his shows and his media-

But you're like the one person he actually feels seen with.

It also helps that you don't let his bullshit fly.

You weren't ever scared of him despite the guy being a demon overlord.

What was the worst he could do?

Corrupt your files and destroy your gadgets?

That stuff was replaceable, didn't matter much.

Vox has stuck his hand in your playlist a couple times when he's busy working.

Mostly because he didn't have the time to properly talk but inadvertently missed you.

That and he'd usually check your playlist to gauge your mood.

There was a couple of times he'd been utterly confused why you had such a depressing song as your most played when you seemed happy as all hell.

He just chalked it up to another one of your odd behaviors.

Calls you doll/dollface by default but traverses into other more endearing petnames as you guys get closer.

You think nothing of it, assuming it's just him playing up his charisma but Vox kind of wishes you would give it some thought.

After all, he doesn't do that normally to anyone.

Well, not unless he's trying to manipulate them or get in their pants.

But with you, it was genuine.

He'd absolutely buffer or glitch if you ever gave him a cute petname though.

It's why you simply stick to just giving him names that made fun of his odd features.

Samsung, flatscreen, TV man-

He's gotten used to it.

But jokingly call him babe or dear and he will die.

Vox also loves your eyes, it was straight up just so easy to read you just by meeting your gaze.

Can and will get lost in his thoughts looking at you but often catches himself in time to stop.

Has kind of deluded himself into the 'just friends' mentality.

Mostly out of his hesitance and unwillingness to accept he'd truly and totally fallen for you.

Vox doesn't remember the last time he felt genuine love for someone and that scares the socks off him-

You on the other hand just legitimately have no idea your attraction to the guy alreardy borders on romantic.

Quite literally everyone can see it aside from you two.

When you get down to hell, Vox actually has to adjust to the fact you're down there-

Even if it's just for a really stupid reason-

He's just the slightest bit relieved you hadn't gone to heaven where he wouldn't be able to reach you anymore.

It's a selfish reason, but Vox is inherently a selfish person so it doesn't bother him too badly.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel

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visenyaism · 1 year

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to what degree do you think jaehaerys is supposed to have a good or bad legacy from GRRM’s point of view? like the books paint him as having this legacy of being a wise pragmatist, and the perspectives in fire & blood back that up superficially even if it’s not hard to see how his decisions directly led to civil war and oppression. is that intentional or just an accident of asoiaf being a good critique of monarchy in general? is the text saying that monarchy is bad because not every king is jaehaerys, or is it bad because even its greatest mythologized figures worked towards its corruption?

genuinely no clue. to me it is one of the biggest points of dissonance both plot-wise and thematically in the whole series. If i want to be generous id say that it’s clear that Jaehaerys is remembered as a Good King, like the best possible ruler in the monarchical system, and this is BECAUSE he is unambiguously just a terrible person to his family because that’s what feudalism mandates and that familial destruction causes the civil war? To me this SHOULD be the point, but somehow it is NOT because fire and blood and the main series don’t really draw any particular conclusions about the ethics of Jaehaerys’ rule.

You get to fire and blood and he is just not singularly a standout politician despite everyone saying he is? as a ruler he is not fantastically distinct from maegor the cruel other than their relationship to the faith. He built a bunch of stuff, but most of the reforms were his wife or his septon’s idea and he doesn’t really get enough to demonstrate competence as a ruler. One standout is that he’s so inexplicably terrible at making marriage alliances like he somehow seems genuinely surprised any time one of his kids comes of age and needs a spouse and the only logical explanation for the bonkers matches he makes for his children seems to be active malice against them. His actions specifically his misogyny against Rhaenys literally caused the dynasty destroying civil war.

and if the similarities between the two were the point, the book was making, I would be pretty interested. like yeah they both build all these things but their entire legacy is built on reproductive coercion and violent misogyny. Jae and Maegor both got their start by usurping Rhaena. Jaehaerys is actually worse in terms of how he treats his mother. Maegor actually named a female heir at one point while Jaehaerys refused to do so at multiple points. Like his uncle Jae was also obsessed with making children and forced his wife to have THIRTEEN of them even though she begged him not to. Jaehaerys had someone hold his teenage daughter down and make her watch as he chopped her boyfriend into small pieces with a sword to punish her for having premarital sex.

all of this is just the plot- not atypical for ASOIAF which really focuses on gender violence as a theme and condemning its entrenchment in the setting. except it’s just depicting a lot of violent misogyny without the commentary or making a point about it because Jaehaerys is Good which is really weird unusually shallow writing.

TLDR: there’s so much dissonance in how he is written: he is described as this fantastic ruler, but doesn’t do a lot of big political moves that maegor didn’t, he’s a terrible person, but is never really called out for this by anyone in the text in ways kings like Baelor are. What’s the point? What IS the text trying to say about Jaehaerys? I would also like to know.

#asoiaf #if they had explicitly made him a maegor parallel i would be so interested omg. but no it’s just this tonally dissonant grab bag of ?????

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qqueenofhades · 4 months

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I frankly sometimes feel like social media has ultimately given a lot of people the illusion of power, while also causing them to become corrupted in a similar way to traditional forms of power, only without any actual power that goes with it. The similarities in their behavior to the latter is disturbing as hell, ESPECIALLY given the horrid behavior of online types the past few months.

I really can't emphasize enough how much of a constructed and artificial environment social media is, especially these days, and especially the Social Media Platform Formerly Known as Twitter, which is still the main avenue by which a lot of people attempt to "do" social justice. Once upon a time, Twitter was a moderately beneficial public communication service because everyone and God was on it and you could therefore get communiques directly from the source, there was a blue-check verification service that actually helped you understand who was real and who was not, and while there were serious and ongoing flaws such as there is when useful public discourse is sacrificed on the Great Altar of Profit, there was at least some attempt to monitor or ban Nazis, white supremacists, bad actors, and eventually Trump himself. All of that changed and/or was directly destroyed when Apartheid Clyde took over and turned it into a revenue-generating service for Russian propaganda, alt-right cranks, bots, and the rest of the Elon Fanclub willing to pay $8 for a meaningless blue checkmark, while trashing the site's guardrails and any other useful features. It basically exists for Elon to fanboy Putin, Trump, white supremacy, his 4chan trolls, and anything else that makes his money (while Mr. Free Speech Absolutist arbitrarily bans anyone who hurts his man-child fee-fees). This is not an unbiased, neutral, or constructive environment to start with. You don't have any certainty about who you're interacting with or who is amplifying your messages, and only a hardcore-radicalized (of whatever persuasion) base of human users remain, while a lot of casual users have left.

As such, if you're basing anything (hypothesis, claim, source, evidence, opinion) on "what everyone on Twitter thinks," that is fatally flawed data to start with. Even at the peak of its popularity, something like 24% of all American adults regularly used Twitter. That still means 76% of the country who doesn't (and the number is larger now as Chucklefuck McGee has continued driving it into the ground). If you're forming your ideas or looking for "what America thinks" just by quoting or relying on the tweets of people who already agree with you, you've done basically nothing and you certainly haven't proved it, you've stunted your own critical thinking skills, and you are selecting from a data source that is already fatally poisoned and limited in any number of ways. Adding to the echo chamber of similar opinions on Twitter is not going to actually influence public policy or make lasting change. Yes, the interns and/or public relations staff of the public figures still on there will probably check the feed every so often and make note of things that come up, but couching it as mindless vitriolic abuse and/or demonstrably nonsensical things is not going to get back to their boss. It will just be ignored and/or given less weight in the limited space available for things that are deemed important enough to actually follow up on/make policy around.

Also, a lot of people saw Trump tweeting insane things at 3am for four years, and somehow decided that was actually how US/American presidential and governmental policy was made, rather than that he was a fucking narcissistic-personality-disorder psychopathic lunatic. But uh, and it should go without saying, it didn't work. Just because Trump posted something absolutely unhinged and announced it was now policy, that doesn't mean it was. Half the time he didn't even do so much as issue an executive order, those can be and regularly are challenged in courts, and so forth, because despite all its flaws, America is not an absolute monarchy where the king can rule by fiat and have it totally done, no questions, the end. That's also why Trump's second term would be even more dangerous than his first. In his first, he was flailing around and yelling on Twitter and not really paying attention to anything. In his second, the administration will be staffed top to bottom with dedicated fascists like the Heritage Foundation's Project 2025 people, who have spent the last four years brooding on revenge and drawing up detailed plans to actually co-opt and suborn all the levers, checks, balances, controls, and functions of government directly to Trump's personal will (and/or the outrageously evil people pulling strings behind the scenes, because Trump is now basically a gibbering orange vegetable and the media is still far too beholden to the Biden Old!!! narrative to accurately report this).

In short, another Trump term (God fucking forbid) would be run by the kind of methodical and careful evildoers who know that policy isn't made by tweet, and would act accordingly. That would be much, much harder to remove, counteract, or fix, it would almost certainly lead to the end of American democracy at least for most of our lifetimes, and the repercussions of that would be absolutely terrible. But because we still have people who act like Trump is somehow a preferable option, who think that it's bad that Biden is trying to work through established and long-term channels to make sustainable policy and not just get short-term chuckles from an internet dopamine approval rush, that is the risk we are running from now until November 2024. After that, either way, we'll know for sure: we'll finally have a measure of safety, or we will be comprehensively fucked for generations. We all have the power to influence which of those outcomes come to pass. I suggest we use it.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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transmascissues · 2 years

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i think we need to talk more about the very specific language people use to talk about trans men&mascs’ bodies, because the language they use evokes a very particular image. they call us dirty, ugly, deformed, mutilated, poisoned, ruined, and just generally “gross” and what it boils down to is a very pervasive sense of body horror.

people are genuinely disgusted by the mere existence of our bodies. i’ve experienced this in my own life, most poignantly when my father (who has otherwise been relatively supportive of my transition) replied to my desire for top surgery with “it’s not natural! nature doesn’t make people like that!”

transmasculinity — particularly visible, tangible, bodily transmasculinity — activates something in their subconscious that they don’t know how to reconcile with. they see us and immediately fall back on disgust because they can’t make sense of us any other way.

and this kind of visceral, all-emcompassing disgust is very specific to how people treat trans men&mascs. you might see similar things directed at other trans people, but it’s never quite the same. there is a very specific disgust that cis people (and honestly, a lot of trans people) reserve solely for us.

this is something i think all trans men&mascs have grappled with at some point in our lives, especially if we pursue a medical transition. any steps we make toward a body we feel good about will require wading through the cognitive dissonance of knowing that the bodies we strive to exist in will only ever be seen as dirty and ugly and wrong.

i can attest to this personally: when t started making me grow facial hair, i had to convince myself not to immediately shave it off because even though i loved it, i couldn’t shake the feeling of how other people would look at my face differently.

more generally, when i look at pictures of myself pre-t, as strange and uncanny-valley-ish it is to see myself like that now that i look much closer to how i want to look, i can’t help but be struck by how *pretty* i was. i know that’s all anyone else would notice — not how much more comfortable i am, but how pretty i used to be and how i gave it up.

just a few days ago, i had a moment in the shower where i just closed my eyes and imagined shouting at my mother: “this body is not yours this body is not yours this body is not yours” over and over because she, more than anyone else, has made it abundantly clear that every step i’ve taken has ruined my body somehow and she, like so many other trans men&mascs’ mothers, has made it her mission to clean me up and pretty me up and make me presentable again.

because that’s how the world at large sees our bodies: unsightly and corrupted and in many ways the grotesque physical manifestations of of some social sickness that they believe will destroy everything they value.

the disgust expressed toward other trans people tends to be a more abstract one — often a moral disgust, expressing that the action of being trans is objectionable to them. even bodily disgust is surrounded by these more abstract themes (think of people talking about transfeminine expression as a perversion of femininity — it’s not inherently the expression that’s the problem but the actions someone took to get achieve that expression, because femininity is supposed to be something good and pure and putting it down outright would go against that).

but when it comes to trans men&mascs, there is nothing abstract about that disgust. it’s incredibly physical — a visceral, tangible horror at the existence of our flesh and bone. they hate us down to the blood in our veins. they hate us down to our cells.

#in my experience this is the hardest part of internalized transandrophobia to work through #because its one of the easiet messages to internalize in the first place #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #trans men #transmascs

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 months

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Post Canon Beast where it falls to Beast Atsushi to become the new Post Mafia Boss.

Atsushi casting one last look at Dazai's corpse and walking back into the building. He's alone, and he doesn't look back. Atsushi immediately calls a meeting with the executives.

And tells them what he can when he himself hasn't processed any of it. Atsushi who watched Dazai fall and now has to watch Chuuya crumble.

He manages, somehow to knock Chuuya out before corruption could spread in his greif filled rage. Atsushi asks Hirotsu to please take Chuuya to the infirmary.

Hirotsu with eyes full of sorrow says he'll do just that. Atsushi's expression doesn't change as he watches him leave and than faces the rest of the executives.

"I am going to be filling in, do you have any issues with that?"

They exchange looks and unanimously say no.

Each of them leave with orders to give a report on the branches of the Port Mafia under their control. Atsushi has a rough idea, but he needs to be certain.

Kouyou is the last to leave. "I'll handle Chuuya's report" she says. "Thank you...do you think he'll be okay?" Asks Atsushi, letting the worry colour his words.

"He will, it's going to be quite the uphill battle but he won't be alone." Kouyou looks at Atsushi, looking somehow both stern and kind at the same time. "You won't be alone either, I won't let you be."

All Atsushi can do is nod with tears in his. Kouyou simply smiles and they part ways for now.

She becomes his advisor, something he's ever so greatful for her. Atthough it's clear to everyone that the new Boss's right hand is Kyouka.

Atsushi had tried to talk her out of it, but Boss or not Kyouka wouldn't have it. She was firecely protective and well Atsushi trusted her to watch his back.

Atsushi checks on Chuuya regularly at his flat. Atsushi watches Chuuya embrace himself in the very greif Atsushi shuts out.

Sometimes Chuuya won't leave his bed. Sometimes he's pissed off or teary eyed. Sometimes all of the above, and yet Chuuya never tells him to leave.

Atsushi doesn't say much, he gives him regularly updates. He leaves him a tray by his bed and asks that he eats.

Kouyou vists him too. Between her and Atsushi they've split his reports up between them. Atsushi ends up doing the most because there's nights he can't sleep.

Atsushi ends up changing the Port Mafia.The Port Mafia's efforts became centered around protecting their city from the shadows rather than destroying it.

Those within the Port Mafia feel a feeling of relief, freedom and pride in their actions. They were still killers, the darkness of Yokohama but it was a far cry from their previous brutality.

Atsushi leaves his executives to do their usual jobs.

Everything else he takes care of and monitors. He gets the Port Mafia headquarters repaired. He spends his nights making phone calls to their various front companies.

Atsushi is no longer the Port Mafia's main line of security. But his skills have stayed sharp, he can't afford to be weak. And his reputation as the White Reaper remains strong.

In fact, seeing what many deemed a mindless beast become an effective, calculating and merciful leader is more terrifying. As is the reminder that Atsushi was Dazai's apprentice.

Some wonder if Atsushi was responsible for the Boss's death. But those rumours go silent in a hurry.

"I do have one question, Boss." Atsushi took the glass of wine she handed him. He never used to drink before all of this. But things have changed, he has changed.

Kouyou had laughed seeing his reaction to whiskey. Dazai's apprentice he may be but Atsushi had her's and Chuuya's superior taste.

"It's just us in my office, drop the formalities Kouyou. Ask away." He said, slightly exasperated. They had this conversation often.

She chuckled before becoming serious. "I understand why you didn't hand the position to Chuuya, but... Why not me? Why, take this all on yourself from the start?"

Atsushi took a swing of his glass.

"Because you would've hated it. I know you tried to leave, and while that desire might've ended you still desire freedom. I wouldn't condemn you to this life, to this cage."

And she wanted to deny it.

That she'd have happily taken this burden from him. But she couldn't, because that was a lie. And Boss or not she couldn't lie to him, Atsushi had been through so much.

He was shouldering so much. Her respect for him only grew. That for one so young to be so wise and so hurt.

And yet he chose to be kind.

Atsushi had improved things, their once enemy the Agency was now interested in meeting with him.

Perhaps due to Akutugawa's influence as much as his. An alliance would be necessary, with Dazai's warnings of a new threat. Though they were still a ways to go, Atsushi was hopeful.

Atsushi still wore his usual coat, but there was now a maroon scarf around his neck. The same one Dazai had once worn, as had the Boss before him.

Atsushi hadn't wanted too, it felt wrong and clearly indicated he was replacing Dazai. But he'd allowed Kyouka to put it on him, over his collar.

On the day of Dazai's funeral, Atsushi was organising some reports. A knock came at his door "Come in" he said, not looking up from his work.

"Huh, don't think I've ever see it so tidy in here."

The report dropped from Atsushi's hands. A familiar red glow stopping its fall and putting it away neatly. "I didn't think you were coming" Said Atsushi, turning around.

It was the first time Atsushi had seen Chuuya at headquarters since that meeting.

He was in his usual attire, not the oversized hoodie he'd practically been living in. His hair brushed and back in his usual style under his hat.

It was like nothing happened, and yet Atsushi knew better.

"I'm done with my moping." Said Chuuya, taking several steps forward. And if seeing Chuuya in his office didn't suprise him, he was when the man took off his hat and kneeled before him.

"I'm a bit late, but I swear my undying loyalty to you, Boss."

It shouldn't hit as hard as it did. It was one thing for the other members, for the executives to acknowledge Atsushi was the new Boss.

But somehow hearing it from Chuuya was different. "Get up" Said Atsushi quietly, tears in his eyes and Chuuya did putting his hat back on.

"No formalities in here" Chuuya smiled at him, sadly.

He could see the wear and tear Atsushi had taken. The burden on his shoulders that he'd chosen to carry, because Atsushi always chose everyone else before himself.

"I'm sorry kid."

He was sorry, sorry he'd left him to rot in his own greif. Sorry that Atsushi even had to be the Boss. But Chuuya couldn't dwell on the past, what mattered was he was here now.

So when Atsushi broke down, Chuuya caught him. He held him as Atsushi sobbed. Chuuya let Atsushi let out everything he'd been bottling away. The anger, the fear, the resentment, the betrayal, the sadness, all of it.

Kyouka poked her head in, worry in her eyes but she let Chuuya handle this. Knowing Atsushi would hide any trace of his sadness if he saw her, as not to worry her.

When it did the opposite.

"Are they coming?" Asked Kouyou, looking around. "In a minute, Chuuya's got him." Said Kyouka, Kouyou softened and sighed sadly. She had known this was coming, especially with it being the funeral today.

Eventually Atsushi's sobs died down and he rested his head on Chuuya's shoulder, emotionally and physically exhausted. Chuuya chuckled, ruffling his hair as Atsushi swatted his hands away.

"He'd be proud of you." Atsushi shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "I disobeyed him, he told me to leave." Chuuya wondered if Dazai knew saying that would only make Atsushi stay.

He'd planned this, that's for sure.

"Well, I am. I'm proud of you dunno if that means anything." Atsushi nodded, his smile turning genuine. "It does, it means a lot actually." Chuuya looked at him, suprised before smiling back.

"Good, I'll have to say it more."

Atsushi hums, looking at the clock and knowing it was time to go. "You think they'll let me lower the casket?" He asked, at Chuuya's confusion Atsushi added "so I can let him down, once last time."

Chuuya snorted.

"Maybe, you're the boss now."

"Yeah, yeah I am."

He dried his tears and walked out the door, everyone bowing there's head in respect as Atsushi walked past.

Chuuya and Kouyou behind him watching his back, Kyouka at his side. Atsushi would bare the burden of being the Boss of the Port Mafia, of protecting his city.

But at least now, he wouldn't do it alone. It wasn't the light Dazai wanted him to live it, but now Atsushi could choose for himself.

And he wouldn't choose anything else.

#atsushi nakajima #beast atsushi #beast chuuya #chuuya nakahara #Beast Kouyou #kouyou ozaki #kyouka izumi #Beast Kyouka #bungou stray dogs beast #bsd beast

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yandereunsolved · 2 months

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Imagine reader being a guide in Linked Maze. They are sort of the protector of people who end up in the maze. They're pretty shy and end up not showing themselves to most, who end up with such a terrible fate. They leave the Links little things to help along their journey, such as food, weapons, and medicine.

Only one of the Links has seen you before—Wind. It was only a brief interaction as well. You guided Wolfie to him using your abilities. Wind only saw you for a moment. You were gone in less than a blink of an eye. He still thinks he imagined it until he actually meets you for the first time. He was overwhelmed with so many emotions. He saw you as what you were for those stuck in the maze—a protector.

He wanted to throw himself at you and cry on your shoulder. He wanted to demand answers. The first time he met the guide of this place, you didn't even exchange words. You disappeared after a few minutes. He was devastated after that. It was your first official meeting, and he didn't even get to say 'thank you' or ask any questions like, 'why did you help me?' That's when his obsession with you started. It was just an inkling of a need for safety that evolved into a desperate devotion to you.

Wolfie is your familiar at this point. He helps guide the Links through the maze and makes sure they don't end up gravely injured. He hasn't actually ever seen you. He just hears you and follows the scents that you waft into his nose. He's not suspicious of you. Your life force is positive. It reminds him of what he feels in the Triforce.

You guide the Links together and keep those awful monsters at bay. You wish you could warn them about what's to come, but you are unable to. You can only leave clues. You are the guide of the maze—the protector. Someone who was tricked into leaving the heavens by a deity who fell from them. You would tell them everything if you could, but if you did, then you'd reveal your location to the corrupted God.

One word and it's all over. One word and the Links will fail their mission.

You wish you could tell them that something worse than Demise was plotting to take over the heavens and destroy the goddesses. Alas, you cannot. The evil deity injured you gravely. If you seek refuge in the heavens, then you leave a possible opening for the evil being to sneak in. You have learned from watching Time on his adventures.

So you watch from the shadows and guide them when you can. You don't realize how dependent they are becoming to your presence. You understand how far their yearning goes.

Four gently probes Wind for more information about your meeting with him. Wind shys away from telling him because he wants to keep you for himself. Warriors is a little jealous but keeps the two calm.

Time knows more about you than the others. He met you once on his journey. So technically, he has met you before, but since you have been forced to take a mortal form. He hasn't seen you since you were injured and forced to look over them in the maze. Somehow, he knows you're out there. He still has that ritual for summoning you. You should've never given it to him. You don't understand how many times he has wanted to use it but ultimately decided against it. He's the Hero of Time! He's the Hero of Time... He's the Hero of Time?

Why would someone so important, a god(dess), want him bothering them?

The rest of the Links are a bit confused about you. Your presence is enigmatic, to say the least. You are like an unspoken rule among them. All of them need to know more about you, but they refuse to cooperate with each other when they learn something new about your existence.

The only question that really remains is: will they ever escape the maze? Or will you fail in your mission of protecting them?

Ignore the fact I went so off canon for this. comic & characters — @linked-maze

#linked maze #yandere linked maze #idk what to tag this as #lm time #lm wind #lm four #lm warrior #lm twilight #drabble #yandere #reader insert #linked maze x reader #yandere linked maze x reader #will I be creating more fanfiction of lm?#yes #lm fanfiction #linked maze fanfiction

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nevesmose · 28 days

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I don't know anywhere near enough about Sanguinius to metaphorically crochet him into a little finger puppet for my primarch fics but how about a little baseless speculation about him and Fulgrim? Please note that this is all based on how I view them in the universe of my silly little stories and is in no way a claim about knowing how they are in canon / lore.

I would probably a) portray Sanguinius as a genuinely sweet adorable cinnamon roll too precious for this world and b) have Fulgrim utterly loathe him because of this.

I tend to write Fulgrim as being a pleasant and charming person who, deep down, is about 50% a deeply broken overthinking ultra-perfectionist and 50% really jealous and vindictive. Please understand that this isn't me saying he's just evil and always was because it really really isn't. It's entirely possible for someone with these traits to function perfectly well in society and not be a bad person in any meaningful sense.

However.

One of his formative experiences as a primarch was almost losing his entire legion due to the Blight corrupted geneseed that almost wiped them out right at the start.

He had to build them up himself from nothing with the constant threat of annihilation both in the sense that "if I fuck up a war and lose however-many thousand Astartes in a terrible accident on the double-ended dildo planet I have no reserves or replacements" and also "every use of our geneseed is a gamble against the horrific mutation coming back and destroying us all over again". In that context the solution he turns to, and the only one that probably makes sense based on his prior experience on Chemos, is perfection.

Make no mistakes, ever, anywhere, because the cost of failure is incalculable, even if it means committing science-treason so you can purge all weakness from your own space dudes. It's not a desire for perfection based on arrogance, although he is of course immensely arrogant in a lot of ways, but one motivated deep down by fear.

People like to clown on Fulgrim based on Jaghatai's infamous "I hear you do strange things to your warriors 😂👌" sick burn, but to be honest, viewed from his context, what Fulgrim's doing is somewhat understandable.

That is if we assume that the Khan isn't just making a cheap insult but rather is implying he knows a lot more than would be preferable about Fabius dicking around with Astartes genetics in order to detect and eliminate carriers of the corrupted gene-seed so that the III Legion, one of the smallest of all numerically, can still survive. And then a lot of other things too because, like Fabius could believably say in one of the weirder McNeill stories, forbidden science is akin to the ancient Terran delicacy known as Pringles. Once you pop you can't stop.

With that in mind it feels like a lot of Fulgrim's post-heresy actions, not just the snake orgies but the general distance and lack of care for his sons, comes from revelling in just finally being free of that level of stress and pressure weighing down on him at all times. Even Perturabo doesn't withdraw from the Iron Warriors that much and he's a dick.

Anyway, back to pre-heresy days. He has all this going on and then in comes Sanguinius with his giant fucking angel wings who everyone loves and who turned his legion into One Direction (not really but you know... perceptions vs reality and no one in this setting actually communicates with one another since they'd probably have a lot in common regarding fears of being mutants etc)

It's the kind of thing that I think would feel like a dagger in the heart to someone like Fulgrim. Directly highlighting and literally embodying all of his fears about mutation and imperfection and yet somehow appearing to get away with it while he has to exercise constant control and do horrible things simply in order for his legion to exist.

So for that reason I think he would absolutely hate Sangy and do everything he could to undermine him.

"Oh no, brother! I've accidentally spilled this entire Big Gulp cup of bright red Tizcan wine all over your beautiful white wings, and only moments before you were due to make a speech to ten million people about how wonderful the Imperium is! Let me help you clean it up."

And then he pulls out a Looney Tunes sized bottle labelled Fabius's Finest Molt-O-Matic Guaranteed Feather Remover and starts spraying it on him.

#he had the Big Gulp cup brought all the way from an ancient Terran dig site just so he could spill as much liquid as possible at one time #fulgrimposting #fulgrim #neves rambles #wh40k #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #horus heresy

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ganondoodle · 9 months

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i talked about why i find the argument people love to use as an excuse as to why shiekah tech is all gone in totk that "they destroyed it bc they were afraid of it" dumb before many times so i wont go over my past points in detail again

- i was just reminded of that and thought of new points to rant about going from that, no evil intentions in mind just when sth is mentioned again after some time i think about it again and can come up with more stuff-

(past points being- how?? shiekah tech seemed pretty indestructable, especialyl the big structures; it seemed like it was a literal holy thing for alot of people in the game; that it would be pretty damn stupid to spend so much energy and probably endanger people to dismanlte it since that time and energy would be better used rebuilding important infrastrucutre instead; if it stopped working why wouldnt you just kinda .. leave it there; why in hells name would you get rid of the shrine of life .. and i guess monk miz kyoshia with it???; shouldnt they be MORE afraid of sonau tech then??)

new thoughts

wouldnt it be logical to research and develope shiekah tech MORE so you can make sure it cant get corrupted again, like a security measure idk anti virus if you will lol

on the specific idea of zelda using it ... shouldnt she be the BEST person to use it bc she could, if it somehow got corrupted again, cleanse it/instantly deactivate it more easily than anyone else??

on the point of people not beign afraid of sonau tech ... that is still like the biggest problem for me with that argument bc .. i get beign afraid of shiekah stuff going haywire again, but then if suddendly alien tech from a literally fully unknown group of people started to appear out of nowhere at the sAME TIME AS MALICE COMES BACK BUT WORSE in the form of miasma shoudlnt that ring your alarm bells and make you flee for your life?? i wouldnt trust that shit after knowing what happened to the tech that we DID know shit about

i know theres like researchers for it but also they really all meddle and play with it immediately like its for them just as much a toy as it is for us the players (also a point that made me feel weird about it ngl), they build businesses around it, made minigames out of it with civilians, use it for transportation with no thought or concern about it, its really weird when this is supposedly takign palce after BOTW where FAMOUSLY ancient barely reasaearched tech got corrupted by evil goo and nearly destroyed the entire land of hyrule (man are they LUCKY gan suddendly has zero interest in ANY tech)

(and i know theres the possibilty that sonau tech is somehow not able to be corrupted but it just seems so dumb anyway bc the people cant KNOW that for sure right of the bat??? and it DOES get possessed with the broken construct too, like .. wouldnt the possibility alone .. esepcialyl with waht had happened in botw make you NOT want to use that alien tech like a toy?? especially with WORSE malice being around suddendly too?? that just smells like a recipy for disaster)

(... man totk realyl is just botw but worse ... the more i think about it the more it feels like that)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #shiekah tech BUT MORE ANCIENT AND COOLER #ancient gone people BUT COOLER AND MORE ANCIENT #malice BUT COOLER AND MORE DANGEROUS #the champions BUT COOLER AND MORE MAGICAL MCGUFFINY #zelda rescue BUT WORSE BC SHES A FARMABLE GLORIFIED STONE PEDESTAL NOW #shrines again BUT SONAU THIS TIME WEE #tragic loss of family and friends but of COOLER FAMILY AND FRIENDS #zelda character dev- .. oh wait nvm that got undone entirely #.. also how zelda gets the role of the stone pedestal while rauru gets the role of keeping gan in check #talk about downgrade

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pikahlua · 1 year

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Katsuki ain’t waking up any time soon and it’s gonna be amazing: Oh wait I think I know how MHA is gonna end ahahaha holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, a picture essay

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do the thing.

@greenhappyseed and I were having a lovely discussion over internet tea until we accidentally on purpose stumbled upon the MHA ending hahahahaha SIT DOWN, KIDS.

I’ll tell you how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna tell you everything important that you need to know. (With...one exception, which is the HOW EXACTLY??? But fear not because I’m sure Horikoshi will fill in the blanks to make this happen. It’s gonna fucking happen. Certainly. Probably. I’m maybe 100% sure.)

I’m gonna try not to be super wordy. I’ll just explain the dots we have connected with pictures. And I’m gonna laugh my ass off the whole way through it.

(Little did I realize how hilariously, literally correct I was.)

Oh, uh, probable spoilers warning? Like really, you should be absolutely sure you wanna read this before you do. Because, you know, it might just spoil everything. At least everything to do with Izuku, Katsuki, and Tomura.

Okay, let’s start with the big one.

What the fuck is going on in this picture? That’s the big question everyone’s been asking for months now. What the hell? Where is this? What is happening? By what means would Katsuki suddenly be able to see All Might’s vestige in some nebulous space not of the real world probably? What the hell????????

No, seriously, what happened? Is this how Katsuki died? This is all super ambiguous! Did his heart explode? Did Tomura destroy Katsuki’s heart when he struck him in the chest? DID he strike him in the chest?? What the hell am I looking at???

These are the questions I plan to answer with the following points, and it will consequently lead us directly to the ending.

Stay with me on this one.

When this chapter came out, a lot of people speculated that somehow Katsuki entered Izuku’s vestige world, which is why All Might’s vestige is there. In fact, Katsuki may have made it to Izuku’s world BECAUSE of something to do with All Might’s vestige. Additionally, many people thought Katsuki’s heart exploded on its own, and that’s probably a deliberately ambiguous mystery. Horikoshi went to great lengths to HIDE the correct angle that would show us what exactly is happening in the final image above.

But consider this hypothesis:

Katsuki didn’t enter Izuku’s vestige world--he entered Tomura’s.

Tomura’s vestige world has a white background too. It’s just All For One’s corruption that produces the slowly encroaching black background.

And I mean, think about it. Whatever happened to Katsuki happened as a consequence of his and TomurAFO’s clash. Izuku isn’t anywhere close to them yet. It makes far more sense for Katsuki to have entered Tomura’s vestige world rather than anyone else’s.

So how did Katsuki get in there? Well, this is where I think Horikoshi is gonna fill in the blanks for us. I don’t know which specific mechanics Katsuki employed in their clash to accomplish this feat. All I’ve got is: I think All Might’s vestige brought Katsuki there somehow. Perhaps it was done consciously, or perhaps Katsuki found a way to connect with the vestige to get to Tomura’s heart.

But then...what about All Might? Why is his vestige there? Inside Tomura’s vestige world? How?

One way might be how OFA and AFO connected at the end of the Paranormal Liberation War.

The other OFA vestiges appeared during this fight, which means for a brief time All Might’s vestige was connected with AFO. He could have left a piece of his vestige behind somehow.

Or it’s possibly thanks to Star.

Before we move on from this picture, let me point out that AFO’s corruption is highlighted by the black background that grows from his center. Additionally, this glimpse into Tomura’s vestige world shows us AFO and Tomura merged together--but are these merely quirk vestiges, or do they encompass something more? Remember, Izuku has a vestige in this world, and he has no quirk. What is the nature of this merged vestige? I’ll come back to this question soon.

For now, remember that All For One called Star’s vestige a “specter of All Might.”

Wouldn’t All Might’s vestige count as such a “specter?”

The characters in this final arc have hammered home the image of a chain connecting everyone, and Star’s actions preceding her death must be part of that chain. Her interference in AFO’s possession of Tomura may have left the All Might vestige behind inside Tomura’s body. It would work very well with the blatant imagery we see in chapter 364 of All Might reaching out to Star, who then reaches out...and on the next page we see Katsuki’s body and Edgeshot.

Perhaps this page is symbolizing the connection between Star and her vestige of All Might born from her admiration. Because Katsuki shares the same admiration (and parallels like hell with Star all over the place), he was able to connect to the All Might vestige inside of Tomura, and that’s how he gets to Tomura’s vestige world.

Or something something. Some anime bullshit, you know the drill.

But how did Katsuki know how to do all this? Man, idk. This is the part I’m expecting Horikoshi to fill in for me later. I just really think Katsuki did seek this outcome because of moments like these:

In what way was he chasing after Izuku here? Because we just saw his battle ability skyrocket only to end in his own apparent death. Well, the way Katsuki has been chasing after Izuku this entire manga, it’s pretty much gotta come down to Katsuki acknowledging Izuku’s strength in saving people. He’s been learning from Izuku’s example how to become a hero who saves. So it’s most likely that Katsuki’s final plan has something to do with rescuing Tomura, not merely fighting him.

But isn’t the vestige world merely comprised of quirks? How does this make any sense knowing that? Well now, let’s get back to that question of what is the AFO-Tomura vestige’s nature.

These vestiges in play cannot be merely quirks.

1. Izuku has a vestige when he is quirkless. 2. All Might’s vestige itself is a piece of his own consciousness. 3. The AFO-Tomura vestige has some weird, telling pieces to it.

When Star tears apart the AFO-Tomura vestige, the side that represents Tomura withers away, but we get a zoom in of the AFO vestige’s core where Tenko lies waiting.

And then when faced with the prospect of the heroes reviving Katsuki, Tenko panics and remembers his family.

...whom then spawn as figures on Tomura’s body.

We even saw Tomura’s family back when Tomura accepted AFO during the Paranormal Liberation War.

And finally, in chapter 379, Tomura explains the nature of the Tenko vestige we keep seeing.

In Japanese, Tomura calls this vestige his “origin” that he hid inside his heart.

These vestiges are more than just quirks. There is some woo-woo “the world within one’s heart” anime bullshit going on here.

And so, I shall leave you with my ultimate prediction.

Let’s use one part vestige rebellion against AFO:

One part One For All is resonating with All For One such that the vestiges can see each other:

And one part massive childhood hand-holding complex:

Prediction:

(and tl;dr)

Katsuki becomes some sort of vestige inside Tomura so that at some point, when Izuku's and Tomura's vestige worlds once again merge (or just resonate hard enough), Izuku will reach out and Katsuki will grab his hand, thus creating a link for Izuku to pull something out, be it the AFO quirk and its stolen vestiges, or Tenko, and perhaps Katsuki himself.

Thus, ironically, Katsuki’s resurrection is literally tied to Tomura’s rescue, so he ain’t waking up before then.

(But this is just a theory. A game theory! Will it actually happen this way? Definitely. Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. But damn it sure seems like it could.)

#my hero academia manga spoilers #final showdown spoilers #katsuki bakugou #tomura shigaraki #all might #star and stripe #i dunno guys i really think this could be the one #greenhappyseed #meta #theory

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