#(nor had the weird time travel twist)

[thesiltverses]

any clues on whats next after tsv ends ? :)

No concrete confirmation, but we did put out a Patreon post back in spring with a few draft pitches, to gauge initial interest and see what kind of genre storytelling folks were most excited to see from us.

I'll paste them below, so you can see the kinds of things we've had in mind (#2 and #3 were the most popular, but it was a fairly even spread outside of that). We've had a few more really fun ideas since then that I'll keep schtum about for now.

General feedback was that people were most enthusiastic about seeing ongoing, multi-season projects from us, which makes perfect sense and is much more sensible for us anyway in terms of sustaining a livelihood / retaining audience members along the way.

That said, TSV has been a three-year endeavour which is a big commitment, and personally I think the best horror is often self-contained, short and sweet.

So I'd really love to have the time to work on a few miniseries-type shows as well, but also need to recognise that we likely don't have the bandwidth to juggle two projects simultaneously.

With all that in mind, I think the direction we're hoping to be able to pursue is:

1+ shorter horror miniseries or one-offs with production or network partners (if they want to work with us) where we're largely on writing duties or with a lighter load.

1 longer, ongoing weird-fiction show which is all ours, baby, all ours.

Draft pitches

#1: Manes

Genre: Historical horror, cosmic horror, family drama with murderous stakes

Influences: The Terror Season 1, pretty much.

Summary: In 208 AD, the ailing Roman emperor Septimius Severus travels north across Hadrian's Wall into Caledonia, with the aim of finally uniting Britain under imperial rule.

For Severus, there's more at stake - his two sons are openly at odds over the succession, and it's openly said that civil war will follow the emperor's death.

Severus himself rose to supreme power through violence and the elimination of his rivals. Now, haunted by the possibility of revenge by the shades of the divine dead and dwelling unhappily on his legacy, the emperor hopes to share his final triumph with his sons and demonstrate a different lesson to them - that an equitable peace is a lasting possibility.

But as the Roman column makes its way north into apparently endless woods, surrounded by cronies, schemers, Britons, soothsayers, priestesses of Cybele, and more, the emperor and his family find that their enemy is nowhere to be seen - but they are being pursued by a force that is both strange and terrible.

And soon enough, the Romans realise that they have perhaps strayed not into Caledonia at all - but into a hostile realm of their own imagining...

Why make this show? We adore period horror, and there's far too little of it out there.

Severus and his family are a fascinating set of characters who we'd love to spend some time with - as ethically-compromised participants in a very Shakespearean tragedy, and as individuals whose heritage, religious beliefs and psychologies allow us to explore aspects of ancient Rome that haven't been done to death in fiction already.

#2: I'll Dance In The Deep Shadow

Genre: Weird-fiction noir, paranoid espionage fiction, cosmic horror

Influences: Cold War spy classics, Roadside Picnic

Summary: Across the water from the mainland UK, a vast walled city has come unexpectedly into existence.

The city’s walls are composed of purest shadow; its leaders have not revealed themselves to us, nor have they made demands of us.

Upon its streets, our own dead and forlorn doubles wander; grinning doppelgangers who seem to know something terrible from the future that’s to come.

We call the city Umbra.

Umbra is a bottomless well of shadow and secrets; its darkened landscapes are home to suppressed memories turned savage and monstrous.

Its citizens and its guards are twisted echoes, repetitions, and whispering relics of the world's buried past - and they will not reveal Umbra's purpose to us.

Around Umbra's great walls, representatives from the world's governments gather and plot against one another - mercenaries, guides, spies, black-market traders, scientists and killers - to infiltrate the city, map its streets, and navigate its dangers for themselves.

Why make this show? Less of an Eskew sequel than it probably sounds at first glance, this one. 

We'd love to do a paranoid, twist-filled, pessimistic John Le Carre-style spy thriller, with multiple characters who can neither trust themselves nor each other - and we feel like we've got some really interesting horror themes around memory and forgetting here to explore with this concept.

#3: Our Wars Have Ended

Genre: Dark fantasy, New Weird fantasy

Influences: The Black Company, the Bas-Lag series, Gormenghast.

Summary: It’s a strange time to be alive.

Thirty years ago, countless legions of the ancient dead rose from their graves to conquer the living lands; lands which now rest in an uneasy - but peaceful - state of occupation.

Withered corpses sit upon the thrones of the living and play silent courtier in the shadowed halls, acting out the rituals and habits of their past lives while dead men and women keep watch from the ruined towers. 

Mortal historians and linguists frantically mediate between our returned masters, trying to keep the peace - which estate belongs to whom? Who shall rule eternal? Which traditions deserve to live on?

But this is a time of wondrous change, too - new technologies, empowered by the revelations of the Dead Reclamation and the will of the Ancestors. Strange machines rumble through the hills and necronautical vessels delve into the unexplored territories of the afterlife itself.

And it has been announced that the Hollowbrow Queen will unite the nation with a powerful gesture, taking on a living consort in a marriage of the fleeting and the eternal.

On one side of the conquered country, an old veteran leads his mercenary company on a reluctant expedition towards the capital, in the employ of a long-dead king on a mission of revenge.

On the other, a young dead-diver and essayer into the realms of the dead is hired to investigate a peculiar mystery, and a conspiracy that may involve both the living and the returned…

Why make this show? Because Game of Thrones had no interest in the (to us) enjoyable questions of 'well, why do the ancient dead want to conquer the living, exactly? What happens once they've done it?' and we'd love to deconstruct that and play with the idea of loathsome undead aristocrats from every period of history squabbling with one another over what their conquered nation actually means.

Because we think we've built up the confidence and the skills to take a big swing at an epic adventure story and a semi-traditional fantasy - it feels like an idea that could potentially appeal to a wider audience while remaining true to our own core values of Weirdness, Horrible Things and More Weirdness.

#4: To Those Who Wait

Genre: Cosmic horror, dark comedy, mockumentary

Influences: Dead Set, Ghostwatch, Savageland, Evil Dead

Summary: Eskew Productions has gone in a surprising direction with its latest production - a new reality experiment and dating-show podcast.

Eight lovelorn singletons have been given rooms in the exclusive Gregory Hotel. Over the course of six weeks, these contestants will go on dates, carry out team challenges, and ultimately try and find themselves a life partner - all without seeing each other's faces.

The aim of the experiment? To prove that good things really do come to those who wait.

As they pore through a mixture of recorded and behind-the-scenes footage, however, it may become very apparent to listeners that something else is waiting in the Gregory.

And one by one, our contestants find themselves at risk of far more than being voted off...

Why make this show? As a great big act of play more than anything else.

We adore horror mockumentaries, but in audio-drama they tend to be faux-journalistic. 

Doing a show that instead mimics hokey reality shows to the point of being mistakable for the real thing, but turns out to be a ghost story instead...that's a lot of fun to us.

#5: In The Devil's Counties

Genre: Historical horror, cosmic horror

Influences: Nathan Ballingrud's Wounds, Seven Samurai, Between Two Fires, Dog Soldiers, Aliens…

Summary: As the Magna Carta states: “All evil customs relating to forests and warrens, foresters, warreners, sheriffs and their servants, or river-banks and their wardens, are at once to be investigated by twelve sworn knights of the county, and within forty days of their enquiry the evil customs are to be abolished completely and irrevocably.”

In early-medieval Sussex, a motley group of knights rides out to investigate tales of ungodly horror and acts of forbidden worship from deep in the English countryside - including Ralph Dagworth, 'hell's mapmaker'.

What the party of knights discovers out in the warrens and the forests of the county, however, is far stranger and more terrible than any Christian conception of hell…

Why make this show? Again, because we're itching to have a go at some period horror, and that weirdly specific Magna Carta quote is just too fun to pass up as a springboard for some 'isolated squaddies in enemy territory' storytelling. (Sadly, it does have a more grounded explanation.)

#6: Strangling Knot

Genre: Anthology horror

Influences: Junji Ito, experimental 8-bit horror, Black Mirror's Bandersnatch

Summary: 

“The rules of the game are simple. This is a place of endless forking paths and one exit. 

There’s something terrible in here with you. Get ready."

A Choose Your Own Adventure-style horror audio anthology; each episode is a distinct story with branching paths that may lead to failure (most of the time) or escape (more rarely).

Why make this show? This is likely the only show that we could reasonably produce as a side-project (and we've been chatting to a couple of other talented horror creators about it already, sssh).

We'd like to be able to play with single-narrator horror storytelling again that's relatively quick and easy to produce - but we do want to at least try and ensure it doesn't feel like we're repeating I Am In Eskew.

There's some really fun stuff happening out there already with CYOA-style audiodrama, and that seems like an opportunity that's ripe for playing about with.

[zeyris-escapism]

Betrayal?

╰─➤ Tartaglia x reader

So I tried rizzing Childe bot and they were smart so I wrote smth inspired on that. Not smut this time wow!! But it's implied they fuck

//not stated whether reader has a vision or not, in which you want to leave the Fatui. (Or in which you end up getting demolished by a harbinger)

「––––––––––♡––––––––––」

You were one of the lower rank Fatui members who worked under the eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia. Although very far from having a position of significance, you still bumped into the Harbinger quite a lot.

You weren't that good at that fighting, nor you could spy that well. And yet for some reason here you were again, in some training area with Tarta- Childe. He'd rather you call him that.

Being in the fatui was mostly caused by your desperate want to get out of poverty. Being in the Fatui gave you many opportunities, whether it was the financial stability, or traveling to fulfill your duties.

Most importantly, being in the Fatui easily allowed you access to information from around the world. Even if now it was unnecessary.

After finally snapping out of your thoughts you noticed that the harbinger had his hand out for you, and you took it. With ease he pulled you from the floor. "If you keep being such a lightweight you'll hardly stand a chance in combat"

He always said that. It didn't matter if you exercised to put on more muscle, or took heavier weapons. Childe only said it to make fun of you in some way or another, these dead ocean blue eyes focused on you for a moment, before he looked to the entrance of the training area.

"I will hardly need to stand a chance in combat" you murmured, still in thought. Maybe you didn't realise what you said, taking your weapon to walk over to the wall, leaning against the pillar. At least you had some water near you, taking the bottle to drink.

You weren't sure why, but the harbinger had an odd habit of flexing his vision, simply using it to collect a round droplet of water, popping it into his mouth. It sure felt odd.

"Why?"

Maybe the question only clicked now. "Why what?"

"You said you'd hardly need to stand a chance in combat, I'm asking why. Or is it that you want to keep being beaten by your superior?" He snickered, jabbing you lightly in the side with his elbow. "Hey- no?"

Truth was, you hardly had the will to fight. It was always terribly hard to get out of the Fatui, but aside from having somewhat of a stable life now, you had no much reason to be there.

Working under the eleventh Harbinger was odd, in fact you applied to work under Columbina. And yet you only had the qualities that barely fit for Tartaglia's standard.

So you took the job that was left for you, to work under him. It wasn't the most desirable, but after months you simply get used to that.

Uncomfortable things become eased into you as your brain adapts to reduce stress.

Increase survival. And working with Childe was hardly ever a stable experience.

"Oh, sorry. I was honestly really deep in thought, theoretically speaking. The seargant I was working with left the Fatui, so I wonder what happened with him"

You played with the bottle that held your water, not daring to look at Childe. By then you knew his tricks; even if he'd ask and avoid the topic, play pretend, he was smart. Like a fox, cunning. Quiet.

Waiting.

"After a while you simply get used to other people, so I meant to ask if he's still alive, even after committing such a thing."

Childe was quiet, his gloved fingers swiping down the edge of his bow. "Whatever happened to him, it's not something you should worry about." He started. Oh man. "After all it's not like you'd be dumb enough to want to meet the same fate as him, hm?"

"Oh n-no of course not. But, if they.. if they had a good reason?"

You were in the Fatui, and you knew how to lie. How to twist and manipulate, but Childe? He had such a weird effect on you. Even if you weren't lying you'd stutter and stumble over your own words. Usually you avoided as much as being in the presence of men for too long, sticking with the lovely cicin Mage's. They fought well, but if you got to know them in person, they were lovely most of the time.

Ah you digressed again. Childe didn't seem convinced, raising his brow at you with a blank expression, at which you looked away again, focusing on your water.

Water.

Your bottle was empty.

"..a good reason? No reason is good enough to do such a foolish mistake. What good reason could you have? What could he so convincing that you'd turn against the Fatui? Against the Lord Tsaritsa and, well, me?"

You felt the need to make sure he didn't have wrong ideas. (He figured you out)

"Don't worry– I was just teasing. I may be stupid but I'm not THAT stupid" you tried to joke to release some of the tension.

It did not work.

Awkward silence followed, one that tightened your gut. It was a game of cat and mouse by then, you knew he knew. And he was aware that you realised it, and still neither of you spoke about it straight up.

"I knew as much! You certainly couldn't betray the Fatui and have it work out. The Fatui would haunt you to the ends of the earth for treason, they would never let you rest until you'd be punished accordingly.

So you would certainly never do something so foolish, right?"

"No, no I was just teasing-"

"Just teasing, you say.. well, you certainly had me going! It would've been truly foolish to do such a thing, which is why the thought never crossed people's mind's"

Both his blood thirsty and that mocking, condescending side were true. He was like a coin. That drove you insane.

"I'm glad you were just teasing, because frankly, I didn't know how to respond! Enough of my prattle, how about another sparring match? Just to prove you seriously were never considering such treasonous thoughts?"

"I think I had enough for today, tho-"

"Nonsense. A good fatui soldier always looks for opportunity to indulge in self improvement"

Childe was too good at fighting, and you hardly ever beat him. You never even came close to beating him in the first place, because for some reason he always went so easy on you that you felt humiliated to even show your face.

He stood there out in the open, always giving you an opportunity to strike. At least his bow was charged.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?"

With a sigh you took the spear instead, to keep him at a distance. You didn't really use any elemental power for combat with Childe, you found that if you did (if you had a vision), then he'd be more likely to beat you down. In a way that was less than pleasant.

Aiming your weapon you decided to join him in the dance, for now taking the offensive stance, watching him dodge with ease, the end of your weapon scraping his shoulder.

"You're getting awfully good with that thing!"

Another dodge.

"You'd give me a real headache if you ever turned traitor and came to fight me with a real intent!"

Your blood went cold, and hot at the same time.

"But then again, I know you'd never do such a thing.."

Before you knew it, you had to start and be defensive instead, hardly managing to dodge the bow that he used to try and hit you. "Right?"

You were aware he figured you out, andd in that little stun he managed to take a hit on you this time, end of the bow hitting you in the ribs. With a wince you jumped back, it was a little weird to breathe.

The fight didn't go for long, he did tire you earlier after all, and before you knew it you were knocked off your feet, stumbling down on your back. "sshit-"

Childe simply grinned, close by then as his foot ended on your chest the moment you tried to get up. "ah-ah-ah, you lost."

It wasn't the first time. And you learned to take that loss. Maybe this time Childe didn't plan to just let you leave without giving him a reward.

"You are getting awfully unmotivated in these fights, ah it almost bores me. By suggesting such an offense, I should've killed you by now"

Once he saw you didn't try to get up again he crouched next to you, noticing the way you looked at your weapon. Before you could properly reached it he simply used his hand to shove it away. "As I said, you lost. And your punishment is up to me" he murmured, fingers grabbing your chin to force some eye contact at once.

"Come on Tartaglia, I was ju-"

"Childe"

"Childe- i just wanted to get a reaction out of you, come on" you laughed.

He wasn't convinced.

"Doesn't change the fact you've lost now, does it?"

He tapped at your jaw for a moment, staring into your eyes.

Everytime you saw that dead sea on his face, it felt like all the energy and motivation you had was lost.

Childe was such an ambitious man, and yet he felt like the most dead person you've met.

To say he was enthusiastic and void of life was both true and false at the same time, a living contradiction you needed to bear with.

Sometimes it was hard to predict which side peeked through to react. Working under him was simply like running on a path that changed directions constantly. That either had flowers or all sorts of broken glass shards, rocks.

Sticks.

Soon enough he finally let your chin go, looking at how the light shone at the center of the practice grounds. "oh, that won't do" standing up he grabbed your foot, hiss leaving you as he dragged you towards the center of the round hall. "Don't act feisty on me now, girly"

You were dragged all the way to where the light reflected from the windows, hissing as he stared down at you. Maybe you seemed compliant, but you knew how angry he could get at his plans being ruined. Maybe it was more fun to play along.

Before you could tell, Childe was sat near your legs, fingers walking up your thigh. At least Fatui uniforms were somewhat decent, modest. "let's just put you under one more trial. To really make sure if you were kidding"

"H-huh- I think I proved myse- hhA what the ffUck-" he held your thigh up, intrusive thoughts winning him over when he bit it despite the clothing on top.

Seeing you like that just made him bite, he was unsure why.

"–anyway. Now that you lost it's my turn to take my reward. Two birds with one stone, isn't that right?" His hands slid up your thighs to your hips, suddenly tugging you over to himself, even more so then before.

"Stay still for me, that will be enough of a proof"

#childe x reader #childe and reader #yandere childe #obsessive childe #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #fatui reader #yandere tartaglia

[lossie92]

In the end I decided to share a comfort scene from a different WIP than originally planned, so it ended up being Tobirama's POV after all. The story follows the trope "help from the enemy" and includes a neurodivergent Tobirama 🙃

Hope you enjoy!

-

Warning: description of injury, panic attack

-

It was official – Tobrama was screwed. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

He looked down at his knee which was bent and twisted at an odd angle, shaking hands hovering uselessly over the rapidly swelling joint, and then took a look around him, a curse falling from his lips.

Yes. Definitely screwed.

It served him right for being careless with the Hiraishin. The jutsu was still in the experimental stages of development. Although it was stable enough to use at short distance and he had been pushing its limits for the last few months with very promising results, he had no chance to conduct further testing yet. At some point he had wanted to place the seals or just use his special kunai to check how well the technique would hold up if he attempted long-distance travel through the jutsu, but it was supposed to be conducted in a safe environment when his chakra stores were full. He certainly never planned on testing this out while he was playing a game of hide and seek with his nephew. 

The fact he was currently recovering from an injury and chakra exhaustion, and was supposed to be in bed instead of running around the compound like a madman with a giggly five year old hot on his footsteps was neither here nor there, though Tobirama strongly suspected he was going to get an earful from Hashirama, Mito, Touka, and his medic when he managed to get back home. He was supposed to follow the medical advice and he knew that. It was just hard to do when his body felt as if it was vibrating with energy.

Following orders wasn’t really an issue here, he knew. In all fairness, he had always had a difficult time sitting still and his family was very much aware of that.

It used to annoy his father a lot. Butsuma would smack at his fidgeting hands or legs, or just cuff him on the head, before instructing him in a voice brooking no argument to “stop with this nonsense at once”. He would always punish Tobirama for any wrongdoing by having him sit in the corner motionless for hours on end or by forcing him to stay in his room for days with nothing to distract him. No books, no toys, no paper, no ink, no visitors, no nothing. It had always been the worst kind of punishment. At first, he used to cry a lot because of it, but as he grew older, Tobirama learnt to cope. He knew he got it relatively easy too. Hashirama always had it worse. 

Thankfully, the restlessness became more manageable when he got his hands on some herbal remedies that were supposed to keep a person calm. Though the tea tasted like wet grass, it did help quite a lot in keeping his mind in check most days. Because, at the end of the day, it all had to do with his head. His messed up, weird brain that made him act in ways that always irritated people. 

He couldn’t help it though. It was just the way he was. He just couldn’t stop thinking. Some days it felt as if his mind was racing, making it impossible to focus on anything, while others he would be lost to an idea, so consumed by it he forgot to eat and sleep. There were days when he wanted to do things, but couldn’t decide what he wanted to work on and in the end did nothing, which in turn made him feel like he was wasting time. He got distracted and irritated easily, forgot things that were important all the damn time, became obsessive and nit picked at things to the point where he often had to just start over or abandon the project before it drove him crazy. 

It was all in his head and he couldn’t control it, and now it landed him somewhere in the forest away from home next to a kunai he must have used and forgotten about, because he was stupid and his brain was not right. On top of that, he was injured to the point where he couldn’t stand, much less walk, he didn’t have enough chakra to attempt another Hiraishin, and it was late enough in the afternoon that it would soon be getting dark. He was basically stranded in a place he didn’t recognize, all alone and with no means of protecting himself.

His eyes itched as he tried to stop himself from crying in frustration. Now was not the time for tears.

He bit off a groan as he shifted his weight. The only reason why he had injured his leg was because the area had been already tender before and he had twisted it upon landing on the uneven forest floor. The pain was horrendous, probably one of the worst he had ever experienced in his life. It was obvious that he had to set it and have it healed, but the mere thought of touching his knee was already too much. Besides, it wasn’t like he knew anything about setting dislocated joints or iryojutsu. In all likelihood, he would only make things worse.

Swallowing thickly, he leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, feeling like a pathetic hopeless child as the tears finally escaped, trailing silently down his face.

It was hard to say how long he just sat there, crying and in pain, before he heard something.

Eyes snapping open, he looked around, his body tensing. He would be unable to fight in his current state, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try or that his instinct to protect himself was any less present.

Another faint rustle, a swish of misplaced air, and then there was someone standing in front of him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Tobirama couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it hysterical, as he looked up to see the bewildered face of Uchiha Madara. 

He likely appeared rather  unhinged, to say the least, considering the fact he was still crying on top of laughing, but that didn't really matter much, did it? Not when he was pretty sure he was about to die.

“Senju?” Madara took a step closer, the expression on his face shifting into something unreadable. “Are you… Is everything alright?”

This only made Tobirama laugh harder, but before long the laughter turned into sobbing and he could do nothing about it. Although he tried hard to calm down, he couldn’t. He was tired, he was in pain, he was going to die. It was all too much, all of a sudden.

And then he just couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t catch a full lungful of air. Couldn’t move. 

His vision blurred and all he could think about was how much of a failure he was. If he hadn’t gotten distracted, if he was able to focus better, if he wasn’t useless and not right, and if things were just different. 

If he could do something the way it should be done for once instead of always messing everything up, and if he—

A pair of warm hands was placed on his cheeks. A wash of chakra, warm as the hands that held his face ever so gently, settled around him, pulling him in and embracing him. His breath hitched as he reached out blindly and fisted his hands in the fabric covering strong forearms, desperate to hold onto something, to feel something other than panic and pain, and fear.

“Deep breaths, Senju.” Madara’s voice was calm and deep as he murmured the words. “In and out. In and out. You’re fine. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Now breathe with me, alright? In and out, in and out, in and out…”

It took forever before Tobirama fell into the rhythm of breathing in sync with Madara and even longer before he was able to stop crying, all but choking on the sobs that made him shake all over. His face was red by the end of it, both because of the tears and because of embarrassment. To shatter in this manner in front of his enemy, to break down and clutch like a child to a man who probably hated him was unbecoming to say the least.

Pathetic. Truly pathetic. That’s what he was, wasn’t he?

Gods, if father could see him now, he would have never heard the end of it. 

Madara smoothed his thumbs over Tobirama’s cheeks, wiping away some of the tears in the process. The gesture was enough to distract Tobirama.

“Better?” Madara asked him.

“Y-yes,” Tobirama responded on a hiccup as he forced himself to release Madara’s sleeves. “I’m, I'm f-fine.”

It didn’t seem as if Madara believed him fully, but he still moved away, taking his hands off of Tobirama’s face.

“Good. Can you tell me what you are doing here now?” The careful way in which the Uchiha asked this question grated on Tobirama’s nerves. It was clear that Madara pitied him and the idea of it was infuriating.

“It’s n-none of your b-business, is it?” He said in a shaky voice that was laced heavily with all the anger and irritation he was currently feeling. 

“Senju—”

“No,” Tobirama barked. “What do you want?”

Madara sighed. “Believe it or not, I only mean to help you.”

“I don’t need your, your help!” His voice carried as he yelled. “The sh-show is over, Uchiha! And if if you’re a man of your word, th-then you will just leave me be! I don’t—”

“Oh really?” Madara cut in, one of his eyebrows rising before he glanced meaningfully at Tobirama’s mangled leg and then back up. “That’s what you call fine?”

Tobirama pressed his lips into a thin line and turned his head away, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that Madara had a point. It was an utterly stupid move, since Madara could still decide to kill him, but at the same time it was not as if Tobirama could stop him if he tried either way. 

They were silent for a moment before Madara spoke again.

“Humour me, will you?” He said. “Which part of what is going on here is fine, hm? Your dislocated knee, the panic attack, your nonexistent chakra reserves, or the fact you’re clearly stranded with no means of getting back home?”

Tobirama snorted mirthlessly. “Why should I?” He asked. “And what is it to you? What does it matter?”

“It may, it may not.” He saw Madara shrug out of the corner of his eye. “And I can leave you here if you would prefer that. I’m not about to force you to cooperate. If you would much rather die in the middle of the woods, then be my guest. I just think it’s pointless when we could work on setting your knee and getting you somewhere safe.”

“Why though?” Tobirama asked as he looked back up and met Madara’s eyes. “Why would you… Why offer to do that? I’m your enemy, Uchiha. You should want me dead. Helping me, it’s… It makes no sense.”

Instead of answering right away, Madara just hummed noncommittally and went about taking the leather knapsack off his back. Then he removed his cloak and, after hesitating for only a moment, placed it over Tobirama, tucking it around his shoulders. The weather was still relatively cold this early into spring. In the heat of the moment and because of his panic, Tobirama didn’t even realise how cold he was in his yukata until the cloak was placed over him. He shivered before reluctantly pulling the heavy warm fabric closer, the scent of pine and smoke tickling his nose as he breathed in.

Madara watched him do it in silence and then reached into the knapsack, removing a waterskin from inside of it. He unscrewed the cap and took a large sip, swallowing visibly, before he extended the waterskin to Tobirama, clearly asking if he wanted a drink. Tobirama just nodded and took it with hands that still trembled, gulping down at least half of its contents before passing it back to the Uchiha.

“I don’t understand you,” he said then and was surprised when it made Madara laugh.

“You’re not the only one,” the man told him with a smile that looked odd but also strangely pleasant on his handsome face. “If you really want to know why I’m doing this, why would I offer you help instead of killing you… The answer is simple. I don’t want you dead.”

It was Tobirama’s turn to laugh. “Really? That's it? And how am I supposed to believe that?”

“You don’t have to.” Madara shrugged again. “But it is the truth, Senju. Despite everything, I still consider Hashirma a friend. It would be in poor taste if I didn’t at least try to help you, wouldn’t it?”

#mdtb #madatobi #uchiha madara #senju tobirama #madara #tobirama #stranded au #help from the enemy au #neurodivergent character #lossie writes #wip #naruto #naruto founders #naruto fanfiction

[kurisus]

So you love noragami we all love it any reading recs of things like it? Or that you just like?

YES!!!!!

So I have to preface this by saying there's nothing quite like Noragami. And there is nothing wrong with rereading Noragami over and over. But I still have a lot of recs that give Vibes or in general make me Feel Emotions, so here's a non-exhaustive list.

Anime/Manga:

Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya. I've been saying for years that Fruits Basket is Noragami if it was a shoujo. It deals with the same cycles of abuse and an outsider who tries to break them with pure compassion that Noragami does, although it's much more of a drama than a fantasy. Just watch it and think of Yato as the Zodiac cat. I rest my case.

Fullmetal Alchemist (Fullmetal Alchemist) by Hiromu Arakawa. Chances are you've read or seen this already but it's objectively a masterpiece by any standard you care to use. Whether you like shounen fights, deeply emotional interpersonal relationships, political dramas about war and revolution, fantasy based on Greek myth, or anything else, FMA balances them all perfectly (another thing it has in common with Noragami). I love it so much.

Code Geass. This may seem like a wildcard pick but I rewatched Code Geass a few years ago and realized there are a lot of shared elements (like, Suzaku and Kazuma are the same guy). I may be delusional but it's hands down one of the most insane anime I've ever seen, in a good way. Like how FMA and Noragami balance a bunch of genres, Code Geass is a mecha action anime, a school slice of life, a political drama, and a Shakespearean tragedy all at the same time.

Chainsaw Man by Tatsuki Fujimoto. Again this may be one you're familiar with, but after I caught up on Part 1 of the manga I was so deeply wounded I had to start thinking about Noragami again (which is a worse idea). Chainsaw Man is much more of a Shounen™ than Noragami is, and I still maintain that the saddest parts of Chainsaw Man are like happier Noragami chapters, but it's a very good story and one that also has a lonely, cast-out protagonist who craves human affection but has no idea how to get it (and when he does, it's ripped away from him).

Durarara by Ryohgo Narita. In the anime adaptation, pretty much the entire voice cast is shared between it and Noragami (in the Japanese dub). It is a very weird story about a lot of weird people who are competing to be The Most Normal Person In Ikebukuro, a task which they all fail at spectacularly. It doesn't have much in common with Noragami aside from the voice cast but I love it so I recommend giving it a watch (or reading the light novels if you're feeling adventurous).

Link Click. This is a donghua (Chinese anime) about time travel and it steadily drives me more insane the longer I think about it. The three main characters have such lovely relationships with each other and the emotions go OUCH every time. It's a little harder to pinpoint the connection with Noragami here, but it is a story about the things people will do for love. The writing is crazy good especially considering it's not based on a novel or comic; I haven't seen an anime-original with writing this good since Code Geass.

Not a specific anime but the other week I thought about, what if Yuki Kajiura had been the composer for Noragami? Her style suits its aesthetic so well so now whenever I watch something she wrote for, I yearn.

Books:

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir. If you've looked at my blog at all in the last 2 years you'll know I am very sane over this book series. I actually made a Venn diagram comparing it to Noragami a while back, but the gist of it is that they deal with a lot of similar themes such as love, death, and the curse of immortality. It also has soooo many messy and complicated relationships and twists that leave your jaw on the floor. You can also use the worldbuilding to put your blorbos into and it's very fun for giving yourself Thoughts. For example I've done it both ways by putting the Noragami characters into the TLT universe and the TLT characters into the Noragami universe. Both are very painful.

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint by Sing-shong. I'm not done reading this yet (about 2/3 through), but the further I get the more I realize it's about all kinds of love, the same way Noragami is. The narrator forms a "party" of people in the apocalypse, and they go through life-or-death scenarios together, and the way they grow to love and care for each other is so natural and feels so earned whenever it pays off. If you want romantic relationships, queerplatonic relationships, parent/child relationships, or any other type of relationship, ORV has it. There is also a webtoon adaptation but I'm reading the novel because it's completed; the webtoon will take many more years to get there.

Miscellaneous:

The Adventure Zone: Balance. This is a DND real-play podcast and it doesn't really have anything in common with Noragami but, like Noragami, it made me feel every possible human emotion, so I recommend it. It has a slow start but it grows into something so beautiful and creative and by the end of it I was sobbing in my car. Listen to it if you can, or at least listen to the music (it gets music later on and all of it is soooo good).

Okami. This is a video game heavily inspired by Legend of Zelda and much like Noragami it's a retelling of Japanese mythology, so the storyline will def have some familiar elements. I recommend playing it for yourself (it's available on Steam for PC and pretty much every other platform you can name), but a playthrough would be good too. It's nearly 20 years old and has withstood the test of time because the creators decided to make it look like a classic Japanese painting come to life, and the gameplay involves drawing, so it's very artsy and fun (although the controls are really weird).

Thanks for the ask! Hopefully you found something new, and I'll be sure to share if I find anything new to add to this list because I am always on the prowl for Noragami-adjacent things ❤

#simplysslytherin #ask

[zirawrites]

Could you do companions reacting to sole breaking down and confessing to having a weird unique pipboy with a saving/loading function (like having the game mechanic in the real life)? They'd try to use it for good, loading back to get the best outcome in dialogs and quests, or to keep their companions from getting hurt in battles, but it'd make them go mad with time, so they'd start lashing out, hurting people, doing horrible things to them before loading back and being kind to everyone again. They'd regret the things they've done later, but still snap and do these things sometimes.

One of the tropes thst I like really much for some reason lol. Horrors of being a god.

Cait: “If I had one of those Pip-Boys, I’d be doin’ the same thing.” Cait shrugged dismissively. “We all need to blow off some steam. Long as you’re not actually hurtin’ someone, I don’t see why anyone’d get their panties in a twist.” Cait wasn’t sure why Sole felt so guilty. As far as she was concerned, Sole could vent their anger and no one would be the wiser. She just asked Sole not to kick her ass and then rewind time. The idea felt embarrassing.

Curie: “I cannot believe that such technology exists. Is there a way you could prove it to me?” When Sole explained that only the person wearing the Pip-Boy could rewind time, Curie insisted she try it herself. She used a marker to draw on Sole’s cheek (since she’d never hurt Sole, even for science), then reversed time with the Pip-Boy. Even after she watched the colorful mark disappear, Curie wasn’t sure if it was an elaborate prank. “Maybe we leave powerful technology to the experts, yes?”

Danse: “That’s abominable, soldier.” Danse’s face was red and twisted with raw fury. “Your Pip-Boy is the exact kind of damning technology the Brotherhood seeks to eradicate from the Commonwealth. And for the very reasons it is corrupting you.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me so it can be destroyed. I won’t ask again.”

Deacon: “So, how many penises have you drawn on my face? C’mon, don’t be shy.” Deacon didn’t believe Sole one bit, nor did he have any desire to try the Pip-Boy himself when they offered. When Sole wouldn’t let up or admit they were teasing him, Deacon was more worried about their mental health than the inconceivable power they wielded. He asked Sole to start leaving their Pip-Boy behind on missions, even if it meant needing to consult a good old fashion map.

Hancock: “Punching down is still punching down, even if the little guy won’t remember.” Hancock didn’t need convincing to believe Sole really had a time-warping Pip-Boy. He could tell by the anxiety on their face that they were telling the truth. The mayor focused more on explaining to Sole that any act of cruelty was wrong. And, in a roundabout way, hurting someone innocent was hurting yourself.

MacCready: “Have you used it on me?” MacCready felt sick when Sole nodded. “Was it to help me in a fight? Or did you ever, you know...” He couldn’t come out and ask if Sole had ever killed him. Their friendship would be ruined. Instead, MacCready glared at the Pip-Boy around Sole’s arm. “Never use it again. Or we’re through. Got it?”

Preston: “If I get hurt on a run, just use a Stimpack on me. No need to reload my life and try again. How else will we learn from our mistakes?” Preston was gentle with his attempt to get Sole to ditch the Pip-Boy. Even if it put their friends in danger. He just didn’t think it could lead to any real good.

Piper: “And you never stopped to wonder if the Institute made that for you? What if every time you reload something else horrible is happening? There’s no way you can just time travel without repercussions.” Piper was more angry with Sole using technology they didn’t understand than hurting other people. It wasn’t like Sole’s victims would even remember. “I bet it has some fancy tracking device. I dunno, Blue. Just get rid of it.”

Nick: “If things do not turn out as we wish, we should wish for them as they turn out.” Nick didn’t care if quoting Aristotle was pretentious. He was worried Sole would lose their ethics. Morals. Grip on reality. “You’re playing god, Sole. That’s never worked out for anyone. You’ve already let it go to your head. Don’t let it go to your heart, too.”

X6-88: X6 deeply enjoyed the possibility that time could be rewound. How many people could be saved from a stupid decision? The Commonwealth was filled with errant bullets, bad calls and careless people. “You aren’t doing anything I wouldn’t do myself with one of those.” X6 pointed at Sole’s Pip-Boy. “With technology like that, the Institute cannot fail.”

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #this was fucked up thank you i had fun thinking about this reaction #didnt edit this if there is a typo avert your eyes #nick valentine #fallout 4 cait #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 piper #fallout 4 deacon #preston garvey #maccready #x6-88 #hancock #paladin danse

[rosellerivers19]

Time travel- A sasuhina story

Sasuke didn't know why but for some reason he had a sinister feeling that he was being followed, it didn't help that he was all alone in the forest at 5 am in the morning but he was still surprised when a young woman pushed him into a pile of bushes.

"Who the hell--" he grumbled but the woman's weight crushed him so he couldn't move stopping him from continuing his sentence. Weird she didn't look that heavy.

"shh" she whispered looking behind her ,veins were protruding from her pearl like eyes looking very similar to a certain kekei genkai.

He then noticed what the woman was looking out for

"Did you see her?" one asked slightly visible from where he was looking from but it was clear they couldn't see him

"I swear she came this way" another one added

"Well wherever she is we need to find her this is our chance at getting a gold mine not to mention she's a woman" the other one said chuckling with a sinister smile on his face

Sasuke noticed the woman on top of him- err next to him (she had never really been on top of him just pinning him to the ground) looked disgusted at the comment, he couldn't blame her

"Alright let's move out" the first one said and they both went back from the direction they came from

The blue haired lady sighed letting the veins protruding from her eyes retract and loosened her hold on the Uchiha which turned out to be a mistake as he pounced on her like a cat putting a kunai to her neck

"Who are you?" he growled after being sure the men were out of sight and hearing range. The woman didn't seem to be at all startled though.

"Look I don't want to hurt you-" she began but stopped suddenly when the blade had drawn a little blood

'not enough to be life threatening though' she thought before twisting the kid's arm making the kunai defenseless. he didn't let out a sound as she put more pressure on it, he knew the message she was trying to convey

I could easily kill you if I wanted to but I don't so just listen to me

"Look I really am not trying to hurt you" she tried once again but the Uchiha cut her off

"Then why did you pin me down" he growled

"I didn't think you'd go down willingly and that was the case was it not?" she asked making the Uchiha growl in defeat she had a point

"I can defend myself against them" he responded making the woman shift out of her daze trying to listen and see if those men came back

"I'm not worried about you- well I guess I am but anyways" she stuttered realizing that she was getting off track "those men are from another village if either you or I attack them they could blame us and we'll be on the verge of a potential war neither you nor I want that" she replied and the Uchiha had nothing to say because she was right not that he'd admit it

The woman then completely let go of the boy's arm but he didn't jump on her like last time instead taking the opportunity to stretch his arm out

"It's never a good idea to let your opponent get loose you'll lose control" he remarked

"You are neither my opponent nor do I have the intention of having control on you" she replied hastily looking to see if it was clear to get out of the bushes

"Alright it's clear let's go" she said taking his arm but he held his weight preventing them from moving forward and making the woman turn around to look at him

"I don't trust you" he replied making the blue haired beauty smile

"You don't need to trust me, you just need to follow" she responded and off they went

______________________Author's note___________________

I hope you guys like this preview I'll make this an actual fanfic if I get 7 likes. I find time travel a very interesting topic in the ninjaverse and I love a good sasuhina fanfic

Art belongs to Hanchu27

#sasuhina #sasuke #hinata hyuga

[taeyamayang]

HI PEA!! CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN ON 1K!!

ID LOVE TO JOIN YOUR EVENT :D

kita shinsuke from haikyuu, 7, 24, and 3

HOPE YOURE WELL!! <3

a/n: KAAAALE it's always lovely to see you here 🥰 and gosh kita shinsuke?? damn?? didn't know you simp tor him too. you are the primary reason why my feels for kita keep crawling back ngl i love it. i get a lil excited when i see a kita req. so thanks for joining!!

note: reader uses she/her pronouns. mentioned twice only. the verb tense is a bit confusing hsnebe sorry

• kita shinsuke ; there's only one bed trope with a twist ; romance ; strangers to lovers; fantasy ; soulmate-ish type

• "5 times Person A woke up without Person B and one time they woke up together."

• major character death

--

it began a few months ago, like sudden a glitch that came unexpectedly from nowhere. neithe4 the sky were not splitting apart nor the sun was not losing it's vibrant shine; it was an ordinary day. perhaps, the only outlier on that particular day is the heavy downpour despite the sunny weather forecast.

who would've thought that a change in weather, if that's the cause of it, will turn your fate around?

five nights and one night.

five nights without him and a night waking up in a stranger's bed. you have not seen him before, not acquainted, and never met a pair of sharp russet orbs, but out of the blue you find yourself in bed with him.

he was equally startled as you are, jumping to your feet as soon as sleep wears off. similarly to you, kita, the stranger, is not a heavy drinker so there is no way an alcohol-induced one night stand could have happened the night prior. in fact, he's a workaholic just like you. a night out at a bar cannot slip through his busy schedule.

the first three nights were baffling but as nights passed by, the two of you noticed the pattern and kita began to grow suspicious. he became hyperaware of his surroundings, observing every detail in his everyday encounters. at first, as a man of science, he concluded that you might be sleepwalking but that can't be the case since sleepwalkers only travel to places they have been toㅡyou first step your foot on Hyogo on the morning you woke up in his bed.

hence, you assured him that you have no existing diagnosis that stems to sleeping disorders. although left with no answer, kita proceeds to investigate.

"do you ever think that it's weird that i'm the only one between the two of us who is travelling all the way from my place to yours and not vice versa?" you ask, folding his blanket.

after countless nights waking up in his bed, the both of you have grown accustomed to it. kita even prepares himself on the night of your arrival. he makes sure to wear a decent pair of clothes to bed and to plan a breakfast to serve you the following morning.

"i though of that too." his morning voice rumbled, keeping his eyes stuck to the head of the bed as he pats on the used pillows.

"maybe we need each other." your voice was clear, reeling kita's attention. it may sould a bit over the line to say it since the only relationship you have with the him is the phenomenon, but something inside you urged your tongue to verbalize it, as if you're certain of it.

with the way kita shifted his gaze to you, lashes fluttering in lazy yet graceful manner, his face adorned with traces of sleep, and the morning sun lavishing life on his bare features you can't help but feel intimidated. you have never seen him in this lightㅡethereal and raw.

"i thought so too." his lips moved as his hoarse voice echoes in the room. for a moment you were struck by him. an uneasy yet comfortable feeling sits on your stomach as you generously let your eyes be fed by his ravishing appearance.

yet, a thought knocked on your consciousness.

have you seen him before?

"is that a tattoo?" he asked, popping your bubble. his brows furrowed lightly as he stared at your wrist at the side of your torso. he had not seen a tattoo that lights up and had never heard of an invention of that sort.

"i don't have a tattoo." you quickly shook your head, your fingers traced the spot where kita's eyes are at.

"you have something here." kita rolled a sleeve up then points at his inner wrist. albeit, your eyes round.

"you have a blue line in your inner wrist, lying parallel to your arms and it... glows." your were baffled, complete overthrown by amusement as you look at the image on his skin.

"i don't-" kita paused, brows crossing as he examines himself. his eyes rallied on his wrist and to yours. bitting his lower lip, he spoke. "i can see yours and you can see mine. this is not a coincidence."

right then, the atmosphere changed. somehow, without anyone of you admitting it, each of you are convinced that there's a special bond between the two of you. in between unraveling the mystery, the two of you kept your inbox active by throwing small talks back and forth. since then, you felt so much closer to him. you felt that you were more than just 'the girl who randomly woke up next to him'.

however, in a single morning everything turns around.

the day before it you both agreed to see each other at a café near your workplace but as minutes turn to hours, no sign of a farmer boy showed up. worry begins to stir your mind to overthink and as you become restless in your seat, you decide to head to his place.

just about two prefectures away from your hometown, you head to Hyogo for the first time. you won't forget his house as it is the place you spend one morning each week.

as you are about to rap knocks on the front door of his humble home, the sound of crunchy leaves meeting with the sole of a boots perk your ears up. turning your attention to the sudden noise, instantly, your eyes lock.

"goodafternoon, do you need anything?" he says, holding a sack of rice in one hand.

"shin-, kita."

"yes, that's me and you're here for?"

"we are supposed to meet at the café this afternoon. did you forget?" the clueless look on his face as you said those words send warmth to your face. you weren't imagining it, right?

"i'm sorry but..." kita shoots you a smile. "i don't know you."

if there's one place where you want to be at this secondㅡit is the ground beneath you. you wish for the earth to swallow you whole as embarrassment, confusion, and fright clouds your mind.

you take a step back, mouth ajar as you stare blankly at the farmer boy. he might have called for you to come back or ask your name when you immediately ran away, but your sense of hearing have grown numb. you couldn't hear his voice nor the sound of nature around you.

you went back to your place, completely rattled by what happened. your fingers coil around the strands of your hair as you slid down to the floor. the only way to know what's going on is to sleep. tomorrow is the 6th day, the morning you wake up next to him.

you should wake up next to him.

-

kita grows impatient waiting for you at the front door of the café near your workplace. prior this afternoon, you sent him a message informing that your work ended early. instead of waiting for him at the café hours before the meeting time, you told him that you'll be at your apartment. but as the sun gradually meets with the horizon, kita becomes aggitated standing outside the café. the time consumed travelling from your apartment to the café only takes a couple of minutes. he glances on his wrist watch and realizes that more than two hours have passed. right then, for no clear reason, he felt his heart drop. worry sets in and before he knows it he's on his way to your place.

you mentioned your address to him before. he remembers it being on the third floor of an apartment blocks away from your workplace. kita strides through the staircase and finds himself standing before a wooden door. he has never set foot at your apartment as it has always been the other way around.

just as he was about to rap knocks on your frontdoor, an old lady with a handkerchief tied around her head appears by the door. she holds a white envelope in one hand and a large plastic bag on the other.

"goodafternoon, young man. do you need anything?" the old lady greets him. her wrinkles cover her face as she grins at him teethless.

"room 305, Mitsui Building?" kita asks to confirm.

"yes, this is it and you're here for?"

"the person that lives there."

"oh! she's not here yet. i'm cleaning the apartment before she arrives. the new tenant is a bit of a perfectionist, the owner said." the old lady gushes as she crinkles her nose in a playful manner. on the other hand, kita is muddled over with what she said.

"i believe she has lived here for years. she told me, (y/n), i mean, and never mentioned about moving out."

"oh. you don't know?" the old lady's cheerful disposition washes over her face. she speaks. "then you must be him and this must be for you."

the old lady hands him the white sealed envelope in hand. at the back of it is his name, handwritten as if it was addressed to him. kita quickly tears the the side of the rectangular envelope and fishes out a torn out page from a notebook. he unfolds the letter and reads it with his eyes.

"i'd die for you a thousand times but in our next lifetime, please remember my face, my love.

-(y/n)"

masterlist | hq.list

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq kita #kita shinsuke #kita headcanons #kita imagines #kita fic #kita drabbles #kita one shot #hq shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x you #kita x y/n #hq fanfic #hq imagines #hq drabbles #hq oneshot #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #pea.writes #pea.events

[regalfairytaleacademy]

Headcanons for Kanako Nanjo

Kanako is the daughter of the most popular slash Sk8 ship, Matchablossom (Kojiro "Joe" Nanjo x Kaoru "Cherry Blossom" Sakurayashiki). She is blessed of only child in her family, no siblings nor cousins.

Bloom is Kanako's "S" name.

Her birthday, April 29th is Cherry Blossom Day in Japan.

Kanako is the only student who lived in another world and traveled to Twisted Wonderland while studying at the magic school. She has no experience about magic.

If she didn't attend RFA or another school after high school, she would prefer to work as an employee at her father's Italian restaurant, Sia la luce, or do chores at home. In addition, she has free time to practice skateboarding, or learn calligraphy.

She and Kimiko are watched as skateboard rivals, not friends. Like her daddy, Kanako wants to beef with Kimiko in "S" one day after they graduated from the college, NRC and RFA.

As the daughter of Matchablossom, Kanako has her own AI assistant, but it emits blue light and is named Carlos. Its voice is male version. In practice, she uses a normal skateboard instead of Carlos.

She have a deep bond with Carlos which makes some people (especially Ace and Ruggie) call her out on her weird behavior when it comes to this artificial intelligence.

She was bonded with a Sakura Pixie named Cherise. They have a common in calligraphy and skateboarding. They also have using AI assistant.

Kanako's aesthetics in room is traditionally Eastern style. On the portion of her study table and wardobe are designated of Italian style.

Kanako is a cool intellectual, with polite behaviors to customers and strangers, but oftens to have a slightly prickly toward people she pretty closely interacting to, especially the boys. She has a competitive side, during the races in school or at "S", as much she would beefs against her rival, Kimiko.

Despite this prickly exterior, however, she does truly trust and care for those who she considers her friends.

With a non-distinctive personality, Kanako doesn't like being alone. She also doesn't like seeing her family fight, even if they divorce suddenly.

Despite of this, she would argue endlessly with her father, Kaoru, and soon she would be crying emotionally, feeling there's a shadow over her core. To comforted her, Kaoru oftens ended up apologizing and giving her a plushie she had been used for sleep a hug, but the most is Kojiro help her to solve problems.

Kanako doesn't like the idea of ​​merging her "S" self with her outer self, since her half-Japanese friend Shira calls her "Bloom" outside of the "S". It shows in her with a touch of professionalism and concern for the reputation of her students, and doesn't like to publicly admit to any party that she is the other side of the "S" member.

Though of that, Kanako has a mother mentality and appears as a sister figure, to students and children of the young age. She is pretty open-minded and kind towards those who have a problems trying to help them and giving an advice whatever she able to. She is also strongly care of her parents and loyal to them.

Kanako has a mischievous mode and teasing aspect of her entity, as she enjoys to tease and scare people, by telling scary stories.

As Kaoru's beauty inherited to her, Kanako was considered for the fairest lady in the Fairyland. Although she is just a mortal.

For her talents of cooking, Kanako likes to make bento and share for students as the way making friends. But those envious people throw as a waste and make others misunderstanding Kanako is try to poison them. Those bullies even once ruining her bento where they walk across nearby.

Kanako has been bully by them after she enrolling in RFA for no long. Luckily she occasionally was protected by Charisse, Viridian and people who support her away from them. Also helped by the professors and Headmistress Annabelle. If she is alone, Kanako would calming her mind and directly prickly to them.

Due to studied in RFA for 2 months, she try to make her own Magicam, known as "Delicacy Treats". This is a blog with all the recipes and pictures of her final creations.

#twst #twisted wonderland #regal fairytale academy #rfa #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #kanako nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #twst x sk8 #nymfevilla #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #matchablossom

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 27 / 31 * THUNDERSTORM 」

April 6, 1986

Rain slams against the windowpane of the living room of the Brown estate and Marty can't help the way his head snaps to the window to make sure it hasn't been knocked clear off. Once, the rain pelting the earth might have been an easy to ignore white noise in the background, however after all their trips across time and far-too-close-for-comfort encounters with lightning, the storm feels like a great beast coming to collect what it's owed after being slighted.

They've cheated death and tempted fate far too many times, and it must be soon that their luck runs out.

With the way the wind howls and screams and roars around the house and the way the building shakes with each clap of thunder that sounds like he's right up there in the heavens, three feet away from the creature parting the clouds, it isn't hard to imagine something straight out of a comic book descending upon them.

❝Don't worry,❞ Emmett says, setting two mugs of steaming hot cocoa down on the table, ❝the glass will hold. And in case the storm knocks out the power, I've installed a backup generator that's strong enough to power a good portion of the house. I originally installed it as a failsafe for the laboratory, as I've had some unfortunate incidents in the past where I've caused the aptly named brownout across town, much to the chagrin of my neighbours, but with so much of the house relying on electricity, I figured why not?❞

Thunder booms in both their ears and lightning streaks across the sky, drowning the world in blinding white. Emmett settles down in one of the reclining chairs as Marty gingerly reaches for his cocoa.

The silence between them is charged and it takes only a glance to know that Marty is contemplating saying something—likely something personal, what with the way he draws into himself—that he's turning over and over in his head. Emmett doesn't need to remind him that he will never be judged for anything he tells him in confidence, nor does he attempt to pry the information out of him.

Although, he has an inkling of what might be on his best friend's mind.

❝Hey Doc, after all the time-travelling we did, do you ever feel weird about thunderstorms? They never used to bother me, but I... I keep thinking about the Clock Tower and I keep thinking about you in the DeLorean getting struck by lightning and—I thought you died, Doc. That everything I did was for nothing and I just got you killed again in the end.❞

Emmett frowns, watching as Marty's fingers curl around the cup he knows is still too-hot to the touch. This isn't something he's entirely surprised to hear; after everything they've been through, it was only natural that he develop an aversion to thunderstorms.

His own feelings on the natural phenomenon have certainly changed over the years. What started out as scientific interest in the natural phenomenon has since shifted to something he fears he doesn't know how to name. His feelings are gnarled and tangled, a messy web of complex things that cannot be picked apart so easily.

He remembers all too well the way he nearly choked on his own heart when it leapt into his throat after the first near-miss with the lightning.

He remembers the certainty of thinking he was going to die when the second bolt hit, sending him and the DeLorean hurtling through time. The subsequent suffocating guilt upon realising that he'd been thrown a century back in time, the time vehicle rendered inoperable, thus leaving Marty stranded with no way to return home.

He remembers the surprise at seeing the marks twisted and snaking up his arms towards his shoulders. The way the thunder barked its laughter over his head, taunting him as he dangled from the Clock Tower.

❝I think I understand exactly what you mean. It's a perfectly natural reaction to feel that way, Marty, after everything we've been through. Sometimes I think about those nights and the way lightning has become a key player in my inventions.❞

The parallels to Frankenstein are not lost on him.

❝I couldn't explain this to my parents, you know? They just keep asking me if something happened because oh you never used to be scared of storms before, Marty, what's wrong? They'd never understand without the whole picture and I can't exactly tell them about the time machine because then I'd have to bring up that and boy, Doc, if I could just forget that whole thing with my parents, I would.❞

Emmett feels the next sudden clap of thunder rattle around his bones and Marty jumps.

❝This all happened a few short months ago. With a little more time to process it and the events not so fresh in our minds, things will be easier. It will get better, Marty. In time.❞

The overhead lights flicker and Emmett pulls a worn-out deck of cards from his pocket; the very same they'd salvaged from the garage, still without the Ace of Spades and the Seven of Hearts. A smile slowly spreads across Marty's face and he's reaching for the deck the moment the cards are set down.

❝You wanna play—❞

Emmett returns the smile with a knowing one of his own. ❝Deal us in, Marty.❞

#doctober 2023 #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」 #i am particularly attached to the idea of some thunderstorm related nervousness stemming from their time travel adventures #on both their ends #and it won't be forever but right now marty's like oh god this all just happened and it makes him think about doc nearly dying #and doc's got some things of his own; he's had the ten years in the past to help with it but also he wasn't exactly addressing any of that #at the time due to other more pressing matters #anyway i love them. #and i hc they definitely played cards for fun back at the lab and marty's stupid good at some games #also doc speaking from some kind of a place of experience with time healing certain wounds

[lostonehero]

I have this idea so uhhhhhhhhh

Time travel

Scooped Micheal

Micheal huffed, pushing the old ballpit to the center of this facade of a fazebear location. Henry got this from a friend of a friend kind of thing. It was the same thing from when he had organs. He huffed and turned on his walkie. "Do you want me to move this?" A mask hung across his face overnight his leather rotting face.

"Nah, you did a fine job bringing it in." A familiar accent voice breaks through the other end.

"Thanks, Henry." Micheal stretches grimaces, feeling a few stitches pop. Thankfully, tonight was it, the last night. Then everything will be up in flames. There are all here. Maybe he will miss the pocket he made of his chest cavity, but it didn't matter it will finally be over.

The radio static interrupted his thoughts. "Careful d-"

Micheal didn't hear the rest as he stepped on a stray ball and fell face first into the ball pit.

....

Micheal groaned as he opened his eyes. He felt his face. Thankfully, he still had his mask on, but his sleeves felt a lot longer than before. He furrows his brows as he pulls himself out of the pit. Brown hair fell in front of his eyes to his confusion. He lost his hair ages ago after he was scooped, and he can't recall when he had long hair like this. He tries to stand and trips over his pants. They fit his waist, but the legs are way too long, and he lost his shoes.

The raido on his hip stayed and crackled to life. "Micheal?"

Micheal grabs it as he pushes himself off the floor. The attractions turned themselves on it was way too loud and bright. "I'm here. I just fell. The damn attractions turned themselves on again. It's not even night."

"Everything is off." Henry responds as Micheal finally looks around.

"No, everything is on....and." He huffs, pulling up his sleeves so he can use his hands.

"Look, Micheal came from the baby pit." A preteen pointed at him.

"Look at that dumb mask." Another one pointed.

"He's a baby like his cry baby brother."

Micheal holds the walkie to his mouth. "Henry, I have to call you back before I have a panic attack or beat children to death like my father."

"Micheal? Micheal!" Henry tries to grab his attention as Micheal silences the walkie.

Micheal rolls up his pant legs and then his shirt he hasn't even noticed his skin wasn't purple or rotting. He stands up and grabs the flashlight from his belt. "Fuck off." He huffs as he rushes to the bathroom.

Before Micheal can get to the bathroom, a small hand grabs his shirt, and then a second one.

"Mikey, why are you in weird clothes?" Micheal's blood ran cold hearing that voice.

"What are you trying to be like, dad?" And that voice sent a chill down his spine.

Micheal faints.

......

"That's not our security uniform, Henry." A very familiar British accent was what Micheal woke up to.

"It's also way too big for his frame. How would he even put it on with a belt, too?" William pulls at his hair. "And why is your voice coming from the radio?" He looks back at Micheal. "Micheal, my little fox, are you ok?"

Micheal's first action was to reach up for his mask, and it was gone. His second action was to stare at the man above him, his father. He bit his lip screwing his eyes shut. "No, I can't do this. This has to be hell."

William's features twist to one of pain and heartbreak. "Micheal? Come on, what's wrong?" He shoes his two youngest to their uncle. He crouches next to Micheal and brushes his hair out of his face. He places his hand against Micheal's forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"You need a pluse to have a fever." Mkcheal huffs pushing his fathers hand away as he sits up. "Of course you know that. Look at me, I'm...I'm...." He freezes, staring at his hand. It's smaller than he was used to and not skeletal, nor purple. He flexes it, and it's normal. He reaches for the walkie on the table. "Henry?"

"Micheal, where are you?" The tired voice responds.

"I think the better question is when." Micheal looks back at his father, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "When I'm back, I'm burning that pit."

The walkie crackles for a moment. "Micheal...."

"Hey, how is my dad's voice coming out of that, and he's right there." A female voice interrupts.

Younger Henry throws his hands up. "I tried to catch her."

The walkie crackles for a moment, and then a voice comes through. "Charlie?"

"Of course it's me." Charlie giggles. "This is a weird machine you built."

Micheal pulls the walkie close to him. "I think I'm back in the past." He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "That old friend of yours, I'm going to light his truck on fire."

The walkie crackles, then goes silent.

Micheal hugs it to his chest. "I really shouldn't be here." He can feel something wet drip down his face as he shakes. "I don't want to do this again."

.....

When Micheal started to yell at William was when his heart snapped in two. He became a murderer? He killed the man he loved child? He killed kids? Micheal accidently killed Evan? His own machine killed his daughter? What kind of monster was he? He was crying by the time Micheal relaxed enough to look at him.

Micheal froze. His father didn't. His father didn't have a heart. His father... his father was crying and actually looked hurt. That was impossible. He couldn't recall his childhood everything before the scooping incident was fuzzy at best and blank at worse. He always blamed it on ennard, but the way he called him his fox stirred something in him. He looked away he couldn't keep staring at his father. Maybe his uncle held some truth when he talked about Micheal being the favorite for his father.

He picked up the thermos his mom made him according to his father. A very familiar smell made him pause before he took a drink. Micheal frowns. "Did you make this?"

William wiped his face barely containing himself. "N-no your mother did, she insisted that you get your own food and drink."

Micheal's face is unreadable as he sniffs the water again. He opened the lunch bag, and his sandwich smelled off, he lifts up the bread and saw discolored bits in the mayo, and he swallows. He throws the bottle and sandwich to the floor.

"Micheal?" William asks as he watches Henry hold back his daughter, and his own two kids.

Micheal shakes. "Mom made that for me?"

William nods. "Like I said, she's been making your own food for years, Micheal. She never lets your siblings have any, and she has scolded you for sharing. Why are you upset?"

Micheal hugs his chest. "She spiked my food. She poisoned my water. They smell the same as..." He pulls his hair, recalling the heavy medication Ethan was on his deathbed, and then Jeremy after the bite to his skull. "That's why I can't remember. Everything before..." Bile crept up his throat.

William raised his brow and picked up the themos. He took only one sniff and pulled it away from his face. A painful realization came across his face. "Henry, take Micheal to your home tonight." He wiped his eyes and ran his hands through his hair.

Henry raised his brow, taking the thermos from William and swallows, barely smelling the contents. "Charlie darling, go take Evan and Elizabeth to the arcade machines. Now darling." He doesn't leave room for an argument.

Micheal shakes as he holds the walkie to his chest.

#time travel #five nights at freddy's #micheal afton #henry emily

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Prelude Chapter 16

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

“Why does it have to be that place?” Dragoslava asked, incredibly nervous.

“I suppose it’s time I told you some more about what the Lich is up to” Leif admitted. “My brother is planning to craft a dagger that will allow him to get into the Deep Nebula. Within the Deep Unlight is the Basalt Monolith Forest, which holds the gateway in the form of an organic abyss. He plans to either rob or challenge The Great Unspeaker. I’m certain he will not succeed, but let’s not take any chances.”

“Why the Metal Oasis? That place is anything but an oasis!”

“Sister? What’s the matter? Why are you so on edge over this?”

Dragoslava cleared her throat. “Blood, that place is cursed. Every explorer that’s ever gone there has never returned. There are just some places in the Unlight you never go to.”

“Is it also that nightmare you had? Was it something bad?”

Before Dragoslava could answer, Desislav spoke up. “We’ll have to save it for later. Looks like we’re getting close.”

The Metal Oasis was a very surreal place to behold. Everything was shiny metal and looked like it was expanding outwards. Tall, grotesque metal spires towered over them. They spiraled and twisted up towards the sky. Wind howled past pools of liquid metal and effigies that looked incredibly life-like. A deep red moon loomed in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the whole area. Dragoslava was definitely right about it not being an oasis. Everyone got off of Leif, but were slow to step on the metal ground.

“Good luck to all of you. I’ll patrol the skies and make sure the Lich isn’t hiding his forces somewhere.”

“Thanks, I guess…” Dragoslava mumbled as Leif took flight.

Desislav took a step onto the metal. “Oh jeez, I’m going to need hoof treatment after this…”

“What do you mean? What’s the matter with your hooves?” Blood-Wraith inquired.

“Hooves aren’t meant for hard, solid places like this… Hold up a second! Why is the ground soft now?”

Blood-Wraith noticed this phenomenon was happening as Desislav walked. “Oh wow. Maybe the oasis recognizes your issue…”

Dragoslava sighed. “Let’s get moving. The less time spent here the better… OOF!” She walked into a flexible barrier. “Hey?!”

“I think you hurt its feelings, sister.”

“What the…” She was confused. “Um, sorry? I’m just nervous and on edge…” The barrier went away.

The group began making their way to the center. Blood-Wraith appeared to be talking to the metal as they walked. It was very happy to meet him as it felt similar to him. The journey was tricky as there were many obstacles in the form of metal mud and flora. Dragoslava and Desislav were also becoming more metallic as they traveled. Eventually they had to stop as the two had become fully coated. None of their features could be made out as they looked like a pair of simple, metal statues. At some point they stopped moving, becoming like the effigies.

This would not do at all, so the oasis got to work. Bundles of silver fibers engulfed them, removing excess metal and polishing them. Dragoslava and Desislav were now completely silver and metallic. It felt odd, like their skin was armor now. Through Blood-Wraith, it explained that that was a defense mechanism, designed to subdue intruders. Annoyingly it did not work on the undead (nor Blood-Wraith, due to his strange existence). The Oasis also put forward that the metal coatings should provide them some protection. It could not guarantee the durability of the metal, however.

“This is all levels of weird… also, heh, you look pretty good, all shiny like that, Desislav” Dragoslava complimented with an elbow nudge.

“Hehe, thanks, Drago…” He was blushing.

Blood-Wraith paused. “Hold up! Are you two a… what’s the word? Couple! That’s it. I mean, you two have been hanging out a lot recently…”

“Well actually we’ve been hanging out for a while, Blood,” Desislav answered.

Blood-Wraith stroked his chin. “Yeah, it all makes sense now. Well no shame here, let’s keep moving!”

After a bit more walking and Blood-Wraith conversing, they came across a clearing and hid in the bushes. They found the center… and The Lich. He was accompanied by multiple skeletons, several skeletal giants (around eight feet tall), and a giant skeletal spider. The Lich was waving his hands in rhythmic motions as the dagger he needed formed from a pool of glowing, liquid metal. The trio would have formed a plan if they had gotten there first, but it was too late for that. And diplomacy was most certainly out of the question.

Readying their weapons and spells, the trio leapt out of the bushes and attacked. Dragoslava began brutalizing the undead, Desislav obliterated them with his magic great hammer, and Blood-Wraith used Voidborne as a staff for casting magic (not wanting to play his cards too early). The Lich was mostly unfazed as he finished the dagger, his minions getting pummeled into the ground. Instead of fleeing, he had something else in mind. Just as Blood-Wraith was about to activate his sword staff, time slowed down around him. He moved at normal speed, but everything else was moving slowly.

“What? What is this?”

“Parley, Blood-Wraith. I wish to speak with you.” The Lich had a deep, gravely voice. “I see you’ve embarked on the path of ULTRAMagic. I assumed that wolf form was a fluke last time we met, but I see I was wrong.”

“I’m doing this to stop you.”

“To stop me? And why is that?” The Lich asked.

“Because Leif and Proteus asked me to. They said you’re not supposed to be doing this.”

The Lich laughed. “The Dragon always was a thorn in my side. Also what do you plan to do if you stop me? What then?”

“Uh.. I don’t know… Argh, I’ll just keep hunting down people like you!”

The Lich laughed once more. “How childish… Blood-Wraith? Do you like progress?”

“Yes?”

“Would you be happy if something got in the way?”

“No…”

“And how would you react if someone told you that you would have to start over from the beginning?”

Blood-Wraith thought about that for a second. “Well that would be annoying… HEY! Wait a second! You’re doing this because you think you’re better than everyone!?”

“I don’t think, I KNOW!” The Lich shouted. “I learned the answer to life, the cosmos, and everything! I built the Magician’s Labyrinth! I saw beyond The Source! I crafted The Prima Materia Sword! I AM NOT GOING TO THROW IT ALL AWAY JUST BECAUSE GOD CLAIMS I NEED TO REINCARNATE!”

“You are being very irrational!” Blood-Wraith growled.

“And what of you?! Your existence is a mystery and you have no direction. How do you know you’ll even wake up the next day? How long before Dragoslava abandons you? Will King Englehart and Duke Radovan even accept you!?”

“SHUT UP! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING?!”

“Join me! Not only will I make you strong beyond comprehension, I will grant you knowledge beyond your wildest dreams! Greatness awaits you if you follow me to the Dark Grand Desert!”

Blood-Wraith felt his stomach drop. What if The Lich was right? Was he wrong for wanting to continue his work? It was all confusing and no words could describe the feeling, but then a different feeling built up inside of him. This calmed him, leading to his answer. “No.”

The Lich paused, greatly offended. That was it. No matter what he did, Blood-Wraith would never join him, no matter what timeline he went to. “FINE! Just like how I have a choice, I present you with one: Either stop me, or save your friends…”

It was at that point when time went back to normal, but all was not well. Desislav had been caught by the spider and was being wrapped up in a putrid, brown goo. Dragoslava ran over to help him, but was sent flying into the pool. The tar-like liquid quickly pulled her under. Desislav tried to call out to her, but was gagged by the goo and fully cocooned. His muffled screaming and crying was truly haunting. Blood-Wraith was at a loss for what to do. He could feel the despair creeping in, gnawing at him. It beckoned him to give up. A strand of brown goo then hit his left arm. 

Something snapped Blood-Wraith out of his daze, however. A blue flame went into him, giving him the will to fight on. With a burst of unexpected strength, he wound some of the goo around his arm and began swinging the skeletal spider around. This took out all of the skeletons before he swung the arachnid onto a spire, impaling and killing it. Blood-Wraith then turned to the stunned Lich and called upon his weapon. He charged forward with all of his might and rammed the blade right through the primordial. The Lich was truly beyond words as he was flung across the clearing. Blood-Wraith then went to free Desislav.

“YOU LITTLE BRAT!!! YOU CAN’T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS!!!” The Lich screamed as bone and muscle engulfed him.

With the Oasis’ help, Blood-Wraith was able to uncover Desislav’s face. “BLOOD! BEHIND YOU!” he shouted. A sinewy, skeletal giant was approaching them. Each step shook the ground as it walked.

After hefting the cocooned satyr into the bushes, Blood-Wraith turned to the Lich. “You won’t stop me, Uncle!”

“THEN I’LL JUST HAVE TO GET RID OF YOU, NEPHEW!” The Lich proclaimed as he tried to pulverize Blood-Wraith. He missed and got his fist stuck in the ground.

“Nice try! Now it’s my turn!” Blood-Wraith said as he ran up the arm, going straight for the head.

Dragoslava was in trouble as she sank deeper and deeper. She was drowning in the sticky, gooey metal. Her lungs were giving out and her body was in immense pain. The agony was so great that she could feel herself going cold. Her vision darkened more and more as the feeling set in: She was going to die. Was this her fate? To be lost in a bottomless pool? Eventually she stopped struggling and just gave up. There was no point anymore, she was too far down. As she drifted off, something changed.

The liquid metal was gone, replaced with a fancy, Victorian room. It felt like a rainy day that would never go away in there. Dragoslava walked towards a table in the center of the room and took a seat. It was better than drowning after all. She then noticed a cup of tea… was it for her? Figuring so, she took a sip. It was very good, much like what her sister made. After some waiting, a robed figure entered the room and took a seat across from her. Their face could not be made out as the black robe was like the darkest night imaginable. It also felt like the figure was dead, but not dead.

“I did not expect to find one of the Descendants here” The figure stated.

“Where…am I?”

“Death, but not quite yet. You have been given a choice. It also appears the Oasis does not want you to die.”

“A choice? So it’s not my time yet?” Dragoslava asked.

The figure shook his head. “Not yet. Quite frankly even I’m not sure when your time is. Now what is troubling you child? You wouldn’t be here specifically if something wasn’t weighing on your mind. It is the other thing that is preventing you from passing on.”

“EVERYTHING! Dear God, it has been a wild ride recently. I thought my career would be a simple one! BUT NO, IT WASN’T! I fell in love, met Sir Odo, found Blood-Wraith, I reunited with my sister, and then the whole deal with the Primordials… It’s driving me nuts!”

The figure laughed sympathetically. “Understandable. I certainly would be frustrated if I was in your shoes. Is it all a bad thing though?”

“Well no���”

“I have been watching you for a bit now. You may not realize it, but you have a great responsibility to maintain now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I mean that as a boon to you and all you encounter. You are a leader and fighter. You need to keep going for you, your family, and your friends…”

“You sound like my father.”

The figure chuckled. “He’s a good man who knows what makes a man a man and what it takes to keep pushing forward. Personally I am happy he was appointed to dukedom by Englehart.”

“Alright, I am going to be frank: Would death be the wrong choice?” Dragoslava asked.

“It would be your choice to make, and one I cannot say yay or nay to. Just know that your family, Desislav, and Blood-Wraith would be very sad if you left them…”

That last bit hit Dragoslava hard, causing her to cry and bang the table. “Damn it, you’re right…”

The figure got up, went to Dragoslava, and gave her a hug. “It’s going to be alright, Drago. You are destined for great things. Just know that no matter how much turmoil afflicts you, we will always be here for you…”

“Th-thank you…”

“Besides, you gave your brother a piece of your soul. It would be impolite to not let him return the favor.”

“Oh okay, just rub it in, why don’t you?”

The figure laughed again. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright, promise. Now hurry, Blood-Wraith needs your help.”

Dragoslava was already out the door. “I’m already on it. Thanks for the talk and tea, stranger!”

“Good luck, Dragoslava Raynot.”

Back at the Oasis, Blood-Wraith was getting battered around by the Lich. “Blast it all!” He grunted as he struggled to get up.

“I gave you a chance, but I’m feeling generous: join me or perish! Last offer…”

“I’D RATHER DIE!”

“THEN SO BE IT!” The Lich’s first rocketed towards Blood-Wraith.

Just as he braced for the worst, something stopped the attack. “NOT TODAY!” It was Dragoslava, who had stopped the fist with her own. Something was different though, as her skin was a black metal with silver, glowing veins all over. Her eyes also glowed a fiery red. Once the Lich realized who it was, she took her other fist and punched as hard as she could. This caused the giant arm to explode as the Lich recoiled backwards, screaming in pain. The arm was utterly destroyed.

“SISTER!” Blood-Wraith exclaimed, overjoyed to see her.

Dragoslava helped him back up. “Come on, Blood. Let’s kick this bone bag’s ass!”

Next: Chapter 17

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #writing #literature #story #chapter #fiction

[maddestmewmew]

dam......2 years makes a man real edgy huh

anway this is fanart 4 th y2kvr au by @year2000electronics uwu

#hlvrai #benrey #my art #umb..what else 2 tag h #theres a 3rd version but it was edgy and dumb so u dont think anyone wld wanna see that djdjdh #i actually drew all this last night!! i had 2 change the colors in the first one bc when i first finished babrey hadnt been reveled yet #(nor had the weird time travel twist) #so tha colors look a lil off heres sry #but also?? i have weirdly good timing jfc #i draw babrey #baby benrey if that wasnt clear #and then BAM babrey real cannon!!! boy revealed!!! #OH this also has. dialouge bt i didnt put it in bc. it was cringe babey!!!!!!!!! #i am SO proud of th coloring #the lineart is bad bc. im drawing on my tiny ass ipod sized phone. #BUT THA COLORING MAKES UP 4 IT HELL YEA!!!! #WOW this is a lot of tags WOW im annoying fjdjdhjd #n e way uh. pls reblog i spent 6 hours on this :'3

[spicysoftsweet]

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?”  You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sm #not sfw #gojo smut #mae.drabble #mae.writing

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

#shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #bnha shouto #yandere shouto #shouto x you #yandere #Yandere bnha #Yandere mha #sugar daddy lol #sugar daddy shouto #Shouto smut #Yandere shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #Shoto smut #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #tw.coercion #tw.manipulation #tw.abuse of power #tw.abuse of trust

[rocorambles]

Unnatural

Pairing: Vampire Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Blood...a lot of blood

Summary: You don’t realize just how right you are about there being something different about Oikawa.

There’s something unnatural about Oikawa.

Your fellow managers and assistants for Argentina’s national volleyball team just giggle and tease you when you tipsily voice your concern one day. But you adamantly continue voicing your impromptu dissertation.

Isn’t it weird that he’s never tired? He never even seems to break a sweat!

They wave you off, awestrukenly raving about how hard he works and practices. Of course his endurance is above and beyond the norm.

Strike one.

Fine, but isn’t it a bit strange that he always insists on eating alone?

They shrug. You’re not entirely wrong. It is a little unusual, but lots of people don’t like others watching them when they eat. Besides, he’s Argentina’s new star player and every star has their quirks.

Strike two.

Your fuzzy brain is running out of definite points and you’re well past the number of shots your tolerance allows. Maybe that’s why you blurt out the latest observation that has all your fellow female coworkers shrieking and fawning over Oikawa Tooru.

He literally sparkles in the sun. How is that even humanly possible?!

Don’t be so dramatic. We know you don’t like to admit you’re just as head over heels for him as we are, but even you have to admit he’s eye-catching. No judgement here. After all, none of us can take our eyes off him either when they practice outside in the sun.

They playfully nudge you, grinning and letting you know it’s all in good humor. And you know you’ve officially struck out, all your concerns easily waved away as they order another round of shots and urge you to drink up.

Unknown to you, your doubts aren’t nearly as subtle as you think, although you can’t be blamed for not being aware of Oikawa’s heightened senses. He can feel your eyes intensely examining him, different than the vapid heart-eyes your other companions give him. He can hear you whisper to them about all the little ticks he’s surprised you’ve even noticed.

If he’s honest, he’ll admit you’ve got him off-guard, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in centuries. Was he getting sloppy with mixing in with humanity and hiding his true nature? Was he getting weaker? He tests his glamour just to reassure himself, satisfied by the loud squeals he hears from the rest of the female staff on the sidelines when he gives them a wink and a peace sign. But he pouts at your much less enthused figure.

Why doesn’t his glamour work on you- Oh. He hides a smile as he focuses in on the rabid beating of your heart. Interesting. It does work on you, you’re just a little more resistant about your desires than most.

Mystery solved. You’re not the first hard-headed woman who’s tried to defy the intoxicating nature of his glamour, of his being. And he pays you no more mind. Someone as straight laced as you would never come to the ridiculous conclusion that he’s a vampire.

Except as fate would have it, it’s not you he needs to be worried about. It’s himself that he should be more cautious of.

He can see it all happen in slow motion, knows that his teammate isn’t jumping at the correct angle, knows that the ball is going to go flying errantly. And all he can do is watch in sickening fascination as the volleyball goes hurtling directly at your face. The force of the object crushing your nose echoes in his sensitive ears and he winces in sympathy only to freeze as the most alluring smell begins to overwhelm the gym.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not a rookie changeling or a newly turned vampire who has no control of his urges. He’s fucking royalty, a pureblood, ancient and well versed even by the high standards of his species. And you are hardly the first human whose blood he’s been around.

Yet it feels like he’s experiencing his first century all over again and it takes every bit of self control he has left not to let chocolate orbs bleed crimson, to let his fangs extend, to drink you dry right there and then. You smell absolutely divine and he humorlessly chuckles at the irony of the predicament he’s in now after his arrogance has led him to criticize so many of his peers over the centuries who’ve given into their base desires and instincts.

Maybe he does owe little Tobio an apology…

But that’s neither here nor now and he focuses on the crowd forming around your fallen figure.

“I’ll take her to the nurse.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes when his panicked teammate who had caused your injury insists on being the one to take you, guilt evident in the slump of his shoulders. And instead he smiles in an award-worthy act as he adds a bit of glamour to his voice.

“It’s not your fault. Accidents happen in sports. I’ll take her and you just focus on getting your head back in practice. You can apologize as much as you want when she’s all healed up.”

Oikawa always gets his way and he smugly grins as he easily hauls you to the nurse’s office where all it takes is another few glamoured words to have the room emptied and at his disposal. And then it’s just you and him and he hungrily eyes the way blood trails from your nose, down the side of your face, until crimson begins to stain the once white bed sheets.

“Oikawa?”

Oh poor thing. Your voice is nasally, tone confused as you blearily try to understand what’s happening and where you are through the pain. All the better to glamour you with and he coaxes you into laying back down and relaxing, telling you that he’s just there to help you.

You barely register the swipe of something across your face and you assume Oikawa is wiping off the blood. And in a way you’re right. Except instead of a wipe, it’s his tongue languidly licking you clean.

You taste even better than you smell and he can’t hold himself back. He had only wanted a little taste, but there’s no turning back now. Your whimpers of confusion as cold fingers swiftly undress you are quickly shushed and then all you know is a blinding piercing pain followed by an ecstasy you never thought was possible.

All he had wanted was a meal, but you’re insistent on giving him a show as well and who is he to deny your gracious gift? He groans as the scent of your arousal intermingles with the heady tang of your blood, fangs sinking in slightly deeper than he had intended as he unconsciously ruts against your hapless body. With a gasp he lifts himself from your neck, practically growling in impatience and lust as he shoves his shorts and boxers down until his throbbing cock is freed.

He cruelly laughs at how you writhe and moan beneath him, pitifully begging for more, more, more. Pathetic little human. You don’t even know what you’re asking for and his cock twitches at how cute you’d look, terrified at the realization of what he is, what he had done to you, and how you had liked it, loved it even. He’s almost tempted to pull you out of your forced haze now, wondering if your horrified screams would be even more melodic than your wanton moans. But there’s no time for that now and he wants his first time to be uninterrupted, even as adorable as you are when you fight back.

With all your walls forced to come crashing down, you really are an insatiable creature and he darkly grins at how much of a slut you truly are, practically gushing and cumming with every bite. He sinks his fangs into the swells of your breasts, smirking at how your own hands come to roll and twist your nipples, a silly smile spreading across your face. He travels down, moaning as he sees how much slick you’ve accumulated between your legs, piercing your inner thigh and forcing your thrusting hips to stay still as he feasts on you, mixing the blood with your sticky nectar.

You’re so close to another high and he can practically taste the way your heart is skyrocketing, feel the way your body is tightening. He’ll be damned if he misses his opportunity to be intertwined with you as you break apart once again and he rapidly adjusts himself, once again roughly sinking his fangs into the crook of your neck as he slams balls deep inside of you in one thrust.

The dual sensation is more than enough to have you tumbling over the edge and your scream echoes as your vision turns black and white as your eyes roll into the back of your head. But unlike the previous times where Oikawa had shown mercy and given you at least some time to recover from your climaxes by slowing down his ministrations and licking your open wounds close, this time he only becomes rougher as your orgasm crashes around you.

His hips thrust in and out of you at an inhuman pace. He’s drinking so much from you that you can feel the beginning of lightheadedness from the blood loss. You’re literally dying, but all you can do is take it and moan, lost in the pleasure, lost in the haze he’s enveloped you in. And just when you think this is the end, that your life is over, you whimper, clutching the rumpled linens tight as he slams one last time inside of you and fills you full of sticky seed.

You’re a sight for sore eyes, looking absolutely fucked silly and blissed out despite the borderline grotesque rivulets of blood staining almost every inch of you. It’s like you were made to be a blood pet and despite having just had his way with you, he can feel lust stirring inside of him once again at the thought of you collared and bound to his throne, his bed, your only purpose to sustain him with the lifeforce running through your veins.

But all in due time and he calls the nurse back to attend to you once all hints of foul play are gone before walking back to practice, a thoughtful smile on his lips as he begins to plan, already thinking of what else he has in store for you and eager for another taste of you.

Didn’t you recently say you were living alone?

#yandere oikawa #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #oikawa smut #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

[ramzawrites]

requesting an angsty fic where reader is schlatts kid and they have the same features as him, namely the horns so people avoid them because of what schlatt did, it leads to reader hating their horns and cutting them off/ ripping them out and someone finds them crying, covered in blood with their horns just on the ground or smth, set after schlatts death btw

A Painful Reminder - Dad!Schlatt and Reader - Part 1

Part 2

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt, (mentioned) Techno

Warnings: self harm (destroying own horns with a blunt object), mention of blood, abondenment, depression, cursing

Series: an angst request!

Summary: Y/N is the child of Schlatt and after his death tried their best to deal with the grief. Hoping to connect with people only to painfully realize that their horns are a painful reminder to everyone for Schlatt’s rule and therefore try to stay as far as possible from them.

Words count: 2428

Authors Note: I hope this is fine! I struggled a bit with it and I think you can tell, I apologize for that. I’m honestly not that good with angst but if you enjoy it I’m happy!! Please give me feedback on how to get better at angst :o

I love you guys and please take care of yourself 💙

After Schlatt died and Pogtopia effectively won the war against Manberg only for the nation to get blown up by Wilbur, the people tried their best to rebuild with the help of Tubbo as the new president.

There was a new sense of hope that swept through the nation. They all suffered greatly to get to this place but this was a turning point for most. A time for healing. A time for rebuilding what was lost. A time for grief.

While Y/N spent most of their time building up their own home inside L’Manberg, they were struggling a lot with grief.

They mourned for the loss of the only parent they had in their life, Schlatt.

The president of Manburg, the tyrant that died surrounded by his enemies inside a van. The only parent of Y/N.

The relationship between the two was complicated to say the least. Deep inside they still loved their father but he brought so much pain and even bloodshed on people that they couldn’t in good conscience support him.

For the longest time they tried their best trying to persuade him, that he would change his way but he never listened. Either too full with his own ego or too drunk to care. The last straw that broke the camel’s back for Y/N was when Schlatt ordered Tubbo’s execution.

The emotions they felt while they yelled and wailed at Schlatt to stop this madness was still fresh in their mind whenever their thoughts lingered back to that day. Quackity had to  physically restrain and pull them back on Schlatt’s orders.

It was the moment they realized that there was no way for them to reach Schlatt anymore. He was set in his way and nothing could change that.

After their death to Technoblade’s blood lust during the festival, they ran away and spoke with Tommy. Y/N didn’t want to kill Schlatt but they saw in Pogtopia a chance to stop him. Make him see what he has done. Make him responsible for his actions.

Only this never came to pass. Schlatt died inside a dirty van. A heart attack or a stroke. Y/N didn’t know, nor did they care. He was dead either way.

While everyone was rebuilding and trying to fall back into a normal day to day life. Y/N was lost. They didn’t feel particularly close to anyone nor did the other seem to trust them. Their eyes were always drawn towards Y/N’s horns resting on their head.

During Schlatt’s rule they became somewhat of a symbol. A symbol for himself, for pain, for blood, for tyranny. So when Y/N walked around town the others couldn’t help but stare at these oh so similar horns that reminded them of a past best forgotten.

It made Y/N unsure of themself. It was a physical proof of their connection to their father. It was a double edged sword. In the past they loved that they inherited similar Hybrid traits like their father but now it was the reason why everyone seemed to avoid them.

The people wanted to move on but these damn horns pulled them back whenever their eyes fell on them. Y/N wasn’t stupid. They noticed this pretty fast.

Hell, if anything the funeral was the best proof for that. Bad tried his best to keep everyone under control and have a proper funeral but everyone was too busy celebrating. Talking about stealing his bones. Destroying a picture of him.

All while Y/N sat in the back. They had hoped they could use this funeral as a way to finally say goodbye, let go off the pain and regret but all this chaos just made them realize that the people will never properly accept them due to their relation with Schlatt.

Schlatt may have put all of the people through a horrible and unforgivable time but he effectively snuffed out any chance for Y/N to live a normal life between these people. This legacy of his for Y/N stung almost deeper than all the time he insulted them or flat out ignored them. It made them wonder if he ever realized what he did to his own child. Even if he did Y/N wasn’t sure he cared enough to do anything about it.

Y/N wrung their hands as they stood in front of Niki’s and Puffy’s flower shop. The money ready in their hands so this transaction could happen faster but even so they were too nervous to step in.

After some mental pep talk they finally slowly pushed the wooden door open. To their horror it begun creaking which made them wince. There was no way Niki hasn’t noticed them walking in seeing how she stood at the counter but still Y/N didn’t want to put more attention on themself than they absolutely had to.

“Oh.” Was all Niki said. She almost sounded disappointed. Y/N realized that she probably would have happily greeted anyone else coming into the shop but them.

Their eyes were glued to the ground. As they suddenly became overly aware of their horns, it felt like their weight increased immensely. Almost as if they tried to press down on Y/N. It made them feel as small and worthless as possible under the gaze of other people.

Y/N put the money on the counter as soon as they reached it “A full bouquet of purple hyacinth, please.”

“Alright.” Niki immediately moved away in order to make the bouquet ready. Though Y/N didn’t watch, they were now staring at the wood of the counter. Following he natural lines of it with their eyes as they patiently waited.

After a few minutes Niki placed the flowers in front of Y/N which pulled them out of their thoughts and made them look up. Niki forced a smile on but she still looked almost stern. Soft crevices building up as her eyebrows formed a painful frown.

“This is too much.” Niki begun pushing some of the money back towards Y/N but they shook their head.

“It’s a tip.”

Picking the flowers up into their arms they tried to put on a genuine smile before turning around to walk out of the shop.

Before they exited the shop they could hear Niki say a soft “Thanks.”

That was basically how every conversation with anyone went. Only short and the most necessary words. At first Y/N tried to start genuine conversation but they soon noticed how the others wouldn’t react. Just trying to get as fast as possible through this conversation. Their eyes always directed on Y/N’s horns.

After Y/N placed the flowers in front of Schlatt’s grave, like they did every week, they made their way towards the river.

Sometimes they would spend their time there since it’s a bit farther away from the city, so it was rare to see someone else hanging out there. Y/N mostly used this place to fish in peace. If they fished anywhere near the others their stares and frowns weighed too heavy down on them.

As they sat at the bank of the river, preparing their fishing line, their eyes fell unto their own reflection.

Dark circles adorned their eyes from their countless restless nights. Only falling asleep after hours of crying.

They couldn’t help but put the blame on their horns. Their god damn horns. Y/N hated them. Hated them so much. What would their life be like without them? Would the others still eye them so incredibly cautiously? Would they give Y/N a chance? After all Y/N was vocal about the fact that they didn’t support any of Schlatt’s decisions. For the longest time they tried to help the others through the hard times!

Yet, now as he was dead, they only showed Y/N the cold shoulder. If it wasn’t Y/N themself then the reason has to entirely lay on the horns. It was a too strong reminder of Schlatt.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips. Tears now falling down their cheeks onto the green grass. No one was around so they didn’t mind crying loudly like this.

It was just so unfair. They did everything they could and yet all they reaped was disdain from the people and in a sick twist Y/N couldn’t even fault them for it. Whenever they saw their own reflection, their own eyes would be drawn to their dark horns after all.

Back in the day they were always happy looking at them but now they were the reason for Y/N being abandoned by everyone. They used to be somewhat good friends with Quackity due to his position as Schlatt’s Vice President and even he ignored them as soon as Schlatt was dead.

They had no one and at fault were these stupid, ugly horns.

Y/N let the fishing rod fall to the ground as they continued staring at their reflection. Trembling as they sobbed. Feeling so lonely with no way out.

What could they do? Put on a hat? There is no hat big enough to hide their horns. No, the horns had to go. There was no other way.

Shakily their hand snaked through the grass towards the water. Slowly submerging it into the ice cold liquid as the hand continued searching for something. As their hand landed on a stone that fit perfectly in their palm they held it in front of their face. Inspecting it.

As if to test it they softly tapped the stone against the tip of their horn. Their head moving with it. It felt weird. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it was still a weird feeling as the soft vibration traveled through it.

Letting out a shaky breath they reached back with their arm. The stone in an iron grip.

They hated this.

They hated everything about this but what could they possibly do? What could they do to get a proper chance at a normal conversation with Niki while buying flowers? A proper chance to talk with Quackity again, the man who was right there with them as all the bullshit happened.

All they wanted was a real chance to connect with people.

Y/N let out a sobbing scream as the stone collided with their horn, ripping off a good part of the tip.

It softly splashed into the water. Getting stuck between rocks, slowly rocking with the water stream.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” They stammered between sobs as they once again pulled their arm back in order to strike the horn again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Their arm and hand hurt from constantly colliding with the hard material. A huge headache was now spreading through their head as they were sitting between broken pieces of what used to make up their horn.

But they weren’t done yet. The other side had to go as well.

With every new blow their whimpers would increase as well. At first a result of their hopelessness but it soon turned into an expression of pain. But they couldn’t give up. They had to keep going.

They had to get rid off this legacy Schlatt left them with.

After a particularly harsh blow they suddenly felt something warm slide down the side of their head.

Letting the stone fall down onto the ground they frantically stared at their own reflection in the water. It was blood.

Shocked they let out a shaky laugh. As much as it hurt and was horrible to look at, there weren’t any rest pieces of the horn resting on their head. So they picked the rock back up and with a blood curdling scream they slammed it into the other horn again, trying to get rid of the rest properly.

And it worked.

They were light headed from the pain, bleeding and crying but the horns were gone.

They were finally free of the curse.

“Finally.” They mumbled to themself only to finally take the time to rest and cry. They cried their god damn heart out. It was as if all the stress from the last couple of months finally jumped off their back.

Y/N’s back hit the soft ground as they slammed back, staring at the leaves up above them. Dancing with the wind and only occasionally giving away to the sun that was shining down on them.

Dark red blood staining the green grass. Their eyes growing heavier the more they continued to cry and hyperventilate. This pain is nothing. From this point on everything has to get better. It has to.

There was an audible gasp.

It wasn’t Y/N but they were too tired to look where it came from.

“Y/N? What the hell did you do? What happened? By Ender you are bleeding!” it was a male voice. Quackity? They weren’t too sure. Too delirious to tell.

Strong hands fell on their arms and pushed them up in a sitting position. Their head rolled back and they finally looked into Quackity’s pale face. So, they were right after all.

One of his arms went around their back in order to hold the crying Y/N upright as he took a better look at the wounds.

“I have to get you to someone who knows how to make healing pots. Maybe regeneration? Hell if I know. Did you do this? Your hands are covered in blood.” He was frantic.

Y/N shakily moved their hands up in order to grab Quackity’s hand that was holding their head in place and pushed it away from them, smearing his hand with their own blood “Don’t worry. I freed myself. The horns are gone. Now, you guys don’t have to be reminded of him anymore. We can all finally live in peace. No more reminders to him.”

Quackity’s eyes widened. His mouth opened up in an expression of pure shock. He hated that he could tell immediately what they meant exactly. After the war he did avoid them as much as he could. As Y/N said they, or rather their horns, reminded him too much of Schlatt and he needed time to heal but he never imagined this could lead to this.

He felt incredibly guilty. Realizing that he never really thought about what everyone’s behavior did to Y/N.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll find a way to help you.” His arm went under Y/N’s legs and with some straining he managed to get back up, holding them in his arms. Y/N leaned their head against Quackity’s chest, staining it with their blood in the process.

“See. It’s already working.” They whispered just before passing out.

“Fuck.” Quackity had to find someone who knew how to heal them as soon as possible. Jogging back into the city calling frantically out for help.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #Quackity #Schlatt #reader insert #gender neutral reader insert #ramza writes