Just got the news that my grandad passed away. Grief is goddamn stupid. It always takes me ages before the reality sinks in and i can properly cry about it.
So i just am kinda left feeling empty, no real loud sadness or even regret or what have you. All i have is empty space.
Except for one thing. One really stupid thought.
I ate some watermelon and it just kinda hit me that this was the saddest iâve ever felt while eating a watermelon.
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It was 2:59 am. when they found you outside. The warmth of your body fading as you lay motionless on the ground. Your body bruised and beaten almost beyond recognition. Your costume torn, exposing parts of your body to the cold January night. The mask you wore slowly peeling from your face. Blood pouring from your body as the Gotham rain washes it away.
You were only 16 when you died.
A funeral was held a few days later. Soon after, a version of your costume stands next to Jason's never to be worn again.
The world continues to move on.
Battles were fought. New people came into your family's lives. They found love. They continued to save the world all while you lay in the ground, body slowly being reclaimed by the earth.
The world didn't need you to exist.
-
It's 2:48 pm. When Dick walks into the coffee shop. A case between black market dealers in Gotham and BlĂźdhaven keeping him here longer than it should have. He places his order and waits off to the side, scrolling through his phone.
âHi- can I please get a uh.â
That voice is familiar. Someone he went to school with, or maybe an old acquaintance? But when he looks up, he sees you, or at least someone that looks just like you. But the more he stares, the more he's sure it's you. Your features have rounded out and matured slightly, and you've grown a little bit taller, but it is you he's sure of it.
How? How are you standing in front of him? How are you standing in front of him with not a single scar on you? When they found your body, your face was almost beaten beyond recognition. Even with numerous surgeries, there should have still been some scarring something that showed what you have gone through, but there is none.
You finish giving the barista your order and walk over to wait close by him. He can get a closer look at the work ID hanging around your neck and make a note of the details.
He has to tell the others about this.
That through some miracle you're alive.
-
Note: Based on this post I made. May make more may not. Also it's kinda late so ignore any typos
Navy, this is very very personal, but what a good thing to have friends. Today, a father of our best friends died and he represented so much for us and the lost of our innocence and all. Live is so thin, so so fragile. We drinked and celebrated his life how he wanted to and being together with childhood friend brings you the hope of a new life, revigorantes you. I hope for you and everyone who's reading this the blessing of having at least one friend in this life. A toast for life, it's bad and good things đĽ
Oh, nonnie, I'm so sorry to hear this. One of my best friends recently lost her dad as well and it has been tough. This man was at my wedding and helped shape my friend into the amazing woman she is today. My heart goes out to you, your friend, and their family. I'm glad you were able to surround yourself with love during this time.
You are right that life is thin and fragile. It's worth celebrating. Whether laughter or tears, each moment counts. I hope anyone reading this is as blessed as you are.
Sending you a hug, love, thanks, and raising a glass to you. â¤ď¸
Ooh. This is tricky, nonnie. I don't know if I'd really want to know either scenario. If it came down to it, probably when. I know that would be like having a countdown over my head, but at least I would know how much time I have left to see or do certain things. And I would make sure whatever that timeframe is that my babies will be taken care of.
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Hey, lovelies. Wanted to share a personal update. TW: Death
My mother-in-law passed away last week. This was a woman I knew for over 21 years. She lived over 800 miles away (and actually planned to move closer so she could be near her grandkids), which was why I had to make a long drive over the past weekend to try and pack up her place this week and get other affairs in order (which is going to be a lengthy process). Her service was yesterday and we plan to drive back home this weekend so the kiddos can get back to school and daycare Monday.
My hubby lost his father a few years ago and has no siblings. This loss of his mother has been, understandably, tough for him and family overall. The kiddos don't fully grasp what has happened. Between this and other things, I'm trying to stay strong for everyone.
As always, I write when I can and won't answer any fic update questions. Once they are ready, I'll share once available and hoe out when time allows.
a/n: Someone asked for more of Doflamingo's family pet - unfortunately I accidentally deleted the ask, but as I actually keep a physical list of all the asks I need to get to, it hasn't been lost! I hope this finds its way to you, anon đđ
tags: heavy dehumanization, weird pet metaphors, unreliable narrator, noncon, violence, minors dni, death (not yours), fat gn reader, vomit mention, read the tags and read them twice, just some thoughts
word count: 1.1k
Doflamingo thinks himself a good owner.
You're clean, well-groomed, clothed, fed and loved. Entertained, too. He stuffs you into your crate only at night - even if he has to leave you behind (which he rarely does), you stay with the rest of the family, not in that little cage. He's responsible. Loving. Tender.
But even he can forget about some things.
Maybe it should have been obvious, since you haven't been neutered. But to his defense, it's rather easy to forget that you, when stripped down, are just a mammal - blunt little teeth, yappy antics and bug-eyed, watery stares fool him so easily, make you sexless and too cute to have any needs of your own. And with his frequent appetites sated and you chewing through the leather of his newest chaise, you're just his mutt, feisty but spoiled. And really, who likes to think about their precious little darling dog being aroused? Not him, that's for sure. You're supposed to be something soft to spoil, something to lighten up his days.
Unfortunately, his pesky habit of kicking you whenever you drool just a little too much on his expensive pants (among other things) leads to the discovery of uncomfortable truths. One peculiarly placed hit, and something happens that he never expected - you yelp in pain, and then it climbs out of your throat, grotesque and breathy. A moan. And suddenly, something occurs to him. Makes him go down the lane of unsavory thoughts he never wanted to have when it comes to you.
He has neglected you. Greatly.
In all these years, he has been nothing but selfish - always enjoyed someone hanging off his arm, someone to warm his bed - while you had gone without, never had the possibility to get some relief.
That's why you're getting winded over a simple kick to your crotch, poor, pathetic little thing. It's so wrong, so fucking depraved - he didn't train you to be so needy, to have to find pleasure in something so brutish.
Yet here you are. Writhing in pain and something else as you try to shield your most sensitive parts from further intrusions.
He's suddenly going silent, brooding above you. Something needs to be done, he realizes.
The answer seems obvious - he should get you someone you can play around with, to let off steam, to indulge in the cruder parts of your nature. At first, the thought is appalling, but the more he ruminates and lets different scenarios play in his head, the more he sees that it has to be done. And it could be quite a bit of fun for him as well, if done correctly.
Arrangements are made almost too easily.
It's only fair that he gets you someone from that heap of trash you called your home. Maybe you even knew each other, before he found a place on his lap for you - it matters not, as long as the specimen is someone you would have fucked way back when he first took you. Doflamingo figures the man is up to your tastes, picks someone who looks healthy and strong. After all, he only wants the best for you - if he gets to pick his entertainment du jour, why shouldn't he at least get you someone appealing? (He also doesn't need any suspicious activity on Dressrosa, especially because he doesn't intend to have the man turned into a toy. He has his own visions for this - but that's not for little lap dogs like you to know.)
The male is taken, Doflamingo's room prepared and you - naive, stupid, and stunted that you are - follow him as you always do and walk right into his trap. It's nothing elaborate, really. But it does the job. Just the bound male, a flick of his wrist to restrain and oh-
He can play with the two of you like puppets.
Of course, you're all confused. He rarely (if ever) uses his powers on you, so the sudden restraints feel like some sort of betrayal. Your big eyes question him, looking somehow even more pathetic underlined by your fat cheeks. He doesn't know if he should tut or laugh at you, that's how delicious your expression is - and it gets better and better as he tears your flimsy, carefully picked out pants apart.
You are so utterly shocked, so taken by surprise it looks like you're short-circuiting.
Only when the bigger man pounces on you - because Doflamingo is making him do so - you try to kick, bite, scratch, suddenly coming back to reality. But poor little fat pup, you're breathless and limp after a few minutes of struggle against his restraints and heave out your tears when your breath leaves you behind. Your fat ass up in the air, you can do very little with the way he's holding you in position.
You have to let it happen, even as the snot pools on the floor.
It's for your own good. And to his great amusement.
He keeps you like this, makes the man mount you, fuck you, defile you - keeps intently watching the scene in front of him, the way you blubber and cry out. It's kind of cute, really - you're both crying. Like some grotesque version of two young lovers taking each other's virginity, you're both stuttering out apologies and clutching what is closest to you, even if that is your ass in his case.
It gets boring rather quickly, though. And rather tiring on the hands, too.
So he lets the male go - who gets cross-eyed faster than he can realize he's been freed because there is suddenly a pistol aimed directly at his forehead.
If he was crying before, he's downright hysterical now.
It doesn't leave you unfazed, either - Doflamingo's precious little mutt is suddenly deadly silent, too afraid to squeak out even a tiny moan.
A precious sight to him. Especially when the man finally pumps his load into you, his orgasm flat and fast and unsatisfying, because it's ripped from him entirely due to the way his body functions, not because this is in any way enjoyable to him.
Doflamingo smiles as the male huffs out a sigh, weighing himself in a moment of false security and-
He pulls the trigger.
You scream - but only a second later, only when the man goes limp above you, only when blood and brains splatter all over your back. You scream and scream and scream until you're hoarse, until your voice gets wet underneath the vomit that suddenly leaves you.
Doflamingo would click his tongue at the sight if he wasn't so busy laughing at your predicament.
Really, he had forgotten how fun it is to terrorize you a little, had forgotten how quaint it can be when your stupid face goes from empty stupidity to sheer and utter fear, the kind one can taste on their tongue. You can be so entertaining when pushed a little and he can't help but revel in the tiniest sliver of nostalgia as he looks at you, beaten down and traumatized like the day he took you.
Still, he's getting you neutered the next chance he gets.
tw. dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, mention of murder, power imbalance
wordcount. 1.5k
read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist
millions knives x reader
Everything else has an almost imperceptible coat of dustâ itâs in the air, in the way the sand and dirt creeps through the crevices and lingers. You push yourself up from the warm bed to peer through the spaces between the rickety shack. Your sister still sleeps tight, with her pillow wrapped tight under her armsâ and the soft snoring of your parents in the other room also stays steady. One split second you choose against better judgment not to wake her. Have you ever seen a God?
The blanket clings to you while you stir, but slips off when you get onto your knees. A small sliver of light whips around in the distance, quiet, as a hum fills the air. It flickers distractingly through the narrow windows, breaking through the cracks in the door.
It looks almost biblical.
The light that shines above the town, as the earth rattles beneath. You softly tiptoe around the sleeping person as you rub the sleep out of your eyes, open the door to the cold midnight air. Somethingâs in the distance. Vague and big, it coils in the darkness as if looking for something, and a heaviness settles into your stomach. Have you ever met a God?Â
Without a single thought, you set off towards the tower, trying to quiet your steps so as not to attract attention. Itâs not a stretch to guess that whatever it is, itâs here for your plant. One you, and all the people nearby, need. The heavy rattling, the drilling noise gets louder and louder, until youâre sure that itâs right upon the town.
You slip through the door and sprint up three steps at a time until you reach the platform, taking a single deep breath as you take in the faint glow. The plantâs tired, you know this. Sheâs uncurled herself just barely, face hidden within her handsâ sometimes you try to reach out to her. You place your hands on the tank, press your head against the glass. âIâm not going to let anything happen to you,â you promise, and as if hearing you, understanding you; the beautiful leaves slowly seem to bloom a little more.
A frightening mechanic screech fills the night, and whoever wasnât awake before, surely startles as the entire town shakes. The building with it. You stumble to your knees and turn, just in time to watch the metal roof being ripped off and the bladed, robotic arms to slither in. The man lands with no sound, and blue eyes zero in on youâ as you stand to place yourself between him and the plant. The whirring appendages sprouting from his back drip in blood, and itâs only then that you can hear the screaming and crying from outside.
âYou canât take her- sheâs sick,â you say, wrapping your arms around it as if in a desperate embrace. Your bottom lip wobbles in the silence, one you fill with a plea. âSheâll die if you take her.â Barely half of his face is visible from underneath the hood, but he towers, and his mouth corners flatten when you shake your head. âPlease donât hurt her.â Crying continues, as your palms heat up. As light gets brighter and brighter in the cold room, and your eyes widen.
You turn to see that the plantâs opened up, and her hands are pressed back against the glass in response to yoursâ heat surging through your body as you gasp. Though your body stands between him and his prize, he too drops his shoulders, and the mean snarl that was on his face vanishes. It doesnât last long, before she tuckers outâ but itâs enough for you to stare back at him in shock, mouth falling open at the stunning display. Small orbs of light still rain down around you. âThe plantââ You donât get to finish, before one of the arms wraps around you and yanks you towards him; not disemboweling you in the process. The other arms pick up the plant and pull you all out of the building, through the mess of shacks heâs destroyed.
âWait, please! I-â you try to fight against the blades, but itâs no use. You only cut your skin open further, being dragged through the street kicking and screaming. âStop, my family! Let me go!â Your arm is caught within a hand, as your sister hangs on with all her weight and almost pulls your hand clean off, planting her feet. Sheâs crying, and her eyes are bloodshot and frightened. Youâre hurting. âAw, aw!â You say her name, try to cling onto her fingers as hard as you can. Until you go blue. But itâs no fair fightâ and as soon as sweat makes you slip, youâre out of her reach.
As you watch her wipe blood splatters off of her cheeks, crying out for you.
Heâs moving too fast. The image of your destroyed town doesnât stay for long enough for you to print it into your mind.
+
The furniture is cold when you touch them, dragging yourself around the room with a monotone sigh. Aside from that blue haired freak who glares, or the Doctor, Knives doesnât get a lot of company. They rushed off in some state earlier, where Nai had barked at you to stay where you wereâ but you donât doubt theyâll be back soon. Youâve seen what the blond can do. Youâve seen whatâs left behind when someone tries to steal his precious plants. The camp is cold and metallic and clean, and youâve learned that he doesnât feel these things the way you do.
Instead youâre stuck in this room, and wait for the alarm to stop blaring soon. You place yourself on the well-kept leather seat, and softly press a few keys of the organâ jumping when the door slams open too violently. You cling onto the instrument as you turn, only to stare in confusion. Your mouth cracks open, and you frown. âWhereâs master Knives? Are you here for the plants?â
Heâs got almost the same face, but itâs not him. Hair too long, eyes too gentle. Heâs got mechanical parts where Nai doesnâtâ as he stands in the door disarmed. âIâm here for-â
âVash, step aside.â The deep voice fills the room, and the golden blond aims his gun now at Nai. You canât help it, you hurry over to his side. Knives at least, has shown that he doesnât have the intent to harm you. This stranger however, keeps glancing between the two of you with frightening precision. Naiâs quick to pull you behind him out of direct reach, and tangles his hand with yours as you stare. They must be twins, your mind supplies. He squeezes your smaller, softer hand in his, then glances over at you. âAre you hurt?â
âN-no, Iâm fine.â When you manage to get over your shock at the intrusion, you want to pout. Itâs not like you trust him. He stole you, locked you up- you have every right to be angry. But still. Heâs kept you from the Doctorâs experiments. And if Legato or any of the other ones had their way, you probably wouldnât be so cared for. Dolled up. How should you understand this? You cling to his arm, as you peek your face from behind him. âWhatâs happening?â
The deep voice sounds again, and then the extra appendages come out gleaming in the low light, careful not to nick you in the process. âVash is just leaving, pretty. Donât worry.â He brushes a quick hand over your head, before pushing you down to the floor behind the couch. âStay there.â Theyâre both back down the hall quicker than you can blink, leaving you behind in the otherwise empty room with only your heart thumping in your chest.
+
Your legs get yanked further down the bed, as almost luminescent eyes stare down at you. You wish you could say you were asleep, but Legato turned out to be right. Even master Knives has urgesâ that are now being inflicted upon your body as he nestles between your legs again. âNai, promise me- I want you to go check on my family. I want to make sure theyâre safe.â Heâs ignoring you, circling your nipples with playful fingers before he leans down to kiss you all over. âKnives~â
After he sucks another hickey into you, he gets nose to nose with you, before dipping to kiss you there too- and biting your bottom lip as he groans. âYouâre so whiny.â
âYou promised. If I stayed with you⌠youâd take care of them. My sister and my parents will worry.â
His handsome face is always so awfully blank. In sharp contrast with the brightness of his eyes, and all that you can convince yourself to see in them. Itâs so much easier to sacrifice yourself, when you know that youâre doing the right thing. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and pout. âYou took the plant⌠All I want is for them to be okay.â
âTheyâre taken care of,â he mumbles robotically, before raising a brow. âI promise. Wouldnât lie to you.â The hands instantly start roaming again, as his thighs push yours open to create more room for his hips, and the way heâs pushing inside you ever so slowly. The low groan he lets out is rumbly, cockhead stretching you around him so that your back arches. The wetness between your legs is hot, and ever since the first time, heâs wanted to be inside you as much as possible. The slick sounds fill the room as he sits back and watches his cock slide into you, squeezing your hips tight.
You cling onto him when he bottoms out, and forces another kiss onto your mouth. Whispers your name as he pulls out, and fucks back into you with a grunt. You canât help but be grateful that master Knives isnât all that bad.
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