#cursed gifts au

[yellowcry]

So... I've got this idea a few months ago...

What if after the argument, instead of dying, the magic turns Madrigals' gifts into curses in order to save itself...

CW: traumas, body modifications

Isabela: The plants are growing inside of her body, replacing her flesh. Causing severe bleeding. And attempts to remove plants only making it worse. She still tries tho and gets a lot of scars from removed vines. Not like it's matter, they will be replaced with plants anyway.

Dolores: The vibration from sounds starts to affect her body. It works like electricity. Quiet sounds are painful. But loud... Loud sound can cause heart failure. She just stays in her room the entire time, isolated, so she won't die.

Luisa: Her body slowly turns into a stone statue, cell by cell. Her mobility is also dissapearing since her joints being a fused pieces of stone. No need to tell that it's extremely painful. The fact that she can see how the difficulty of the simple movements grows only makes her more terrified.

Camilo: He shapeshifts uncontrollably. His curse usually combines the details from different people, making it even worse. For example, he might have Luisa's arms with Antonio's body and legs and Mirabel's head. Everything in its original size. Or somebody's leg instead of head... There's endless possibilities.

Antonio isn't affected. He's five and he only got his gift. It would be too cruel even for the curse. So he just loses his new ability, without any effect. The other Madrigals are keeping their gifts, but control over them is awful.

Alma, Mirabel, Felix and Agústin aren't cursed as well, since they didn't have gifts to begin with. But the whole situation can be viewed as the punishment for Alma.

And I'm not sure about the triplets. I think that Julieta might get back all the injuries she ever healed and Pepa's emotions being affected be the weather. But I don't want it to be too deathly (there's no point in curse if they die instantly) or predictable (that's why Dolores'/Luisa's curses aren't based on hearing/strength) And I have no idea about Bruno. You're welcome to give me ideas about their curses

#encanto #encanto au #cursed gifts au #i'm making them suffer #alma madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #cw trauma #cw body horror #cw body modification #grandkids roundup

[miracles-and-butterflies]

For @yellowcry and their Cursed Gifts AU (which I recommend you check out, it’s great!).

A sequel to their Buckles and Bends.

Luisa contemplates her state. The family try to talk with her. Julieta makes a promise that she will ultimately fail to keep.

#encanto #my writing #cursed gifts au #luisa madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal

[magician-under-the-m00nlight]

aptx!kaito au in which Shinichi doesn't know aptx exists and feels insane that his leading theory is "a six year old is the mastermind behind Kaitou Kid"

#no I don't know how this would logically work I just thought it'd be funny #and yes this would fuck up countless meetings and character arcs but consider: the CHAOS #this au is a gift to me from me bc ch1120 is making me pop a vein and I needed a pick-me-up <3 #Shinichi humbling arc but it's because he keeps getting outsmarted by (what he thinks is) a literal 6 yo #(given that he never ran into the org and doesn't know shrinking is possible plus Kaito is much better at acting like a normal child) #and KID gets to bully Shinichi. as a treat #pls don't look at the drawing too closely ajdhhdhd tis just a dood in this cheap little notebook I got as a handout #somehow I find it easier to draw in places other than my sketchbook... less pressure to do it well and fill up all the blank space I guess #kuroba kaito #kaitou kid #kid the phantom thief #kudou shinichi #jimmy kudo #does anyone even call him that anymore it's so cursed. JIMMY #dcmk #detective conan #magic kaito #detco #idk what to call this au... #kinda want it to have something to do w the 'the truly impossible' sherlock quote hmmm #redefining the improbable AU #maybe? #shrunken!kaito #aptx!kaito

[suzienightsky]

Moments before disaster in Green Hill Zone

This is a moment from @kittydoremi's fic, that you can read on her Ao3 here (from ch.1)

#sonic the hedgehog #gift art #sonic au #cursed sonic au #green hill zone #my art #sonic #sonic fanart #purple #sonics and the cursed bracelet #friend gift art✨

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ll go see you again tomorrow (spring is coming to an end) ; sashisu

[ part i - spring ; satoru gojo ]

synopsis; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo, who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided, wholesome n sweet overall, no curses au, gojo doesn’t know how to make friends and thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, reader doesn’t like gojo at first but dw they see the light eventually

a/n; the shoujo manga vibes are v heavy w/ this part i think. high school gojo was born to shoujo but forced to shounen </3

satoru gojo is annoying.

blunt as it may seem, it’s a conclusion you reach fairly quickly. when you first met him, you weren’t sure what to think, what to feel — a deliberate choice, on his part. looking back on it now, that’s the conclusion you come to. 

he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand. observing all of you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his name. it’s a kind of power, a safety measure.

not like it lasted very long, though.

evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. after only a day or two, he began to show his true colours, having gotten more accustomed to the new environment and classmates — and with the revelation of his genuine personality, your unease around him festered even more.

where do you even begin to describe him? he’s childish, for one. and cocky. loud, arrogant. selfish and flamboyant. just generally an asshole. you could go on and on; none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly trying to pick a fight with someone, uninterested in manners or even common courtesy. he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

gojo does have a certain presence, though. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though — you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. 

most frustrating of all, however, is that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it, gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius, even. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those blue eyes and that snowy hair. 

and he has no issue in getting what he wants. none whatsoever.

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way — it’s almost like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. evidently, he’s never once given a chance to the prospect of being a decent guy, then.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

annoying is still the most fitting word, though, undoubtedly. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone else in his entire life. 

really, you don’t understand how geto can put up with him. 

gojo said something to him, during your first week of school. what, you aren’t sure — probably some rude, untoward comment, something taunting. shoko told you about it, but you don’t know the details. 

what you do know is that they fought about it, physically. and that ever since then, they’ve been on a first-name basis, attached at the hip. it’s not often you see one of the two without the other. evidently, the fight brought them closer. you think they must be at least a little bit insane, but maybe that’s to be expected of kids who’d choose some weird boarding school in the middle of nowhere over a more orthodox choice. 

(not like you’re one to talk, though.)

geto is a little better than his best friend, at least. he’s polite, and relaxed, and easy to talk to, only ever annoying when gojo’s around. you don’t know how he manages to put up with him so well, but you get the sense that he’s the only one who really understands gojo. the only one who even tries to.

you haven’t even attempted to do so, yourself. fondness wasn’t something you held for him, from the very beginning, but every interaction between the two of you only serves to make him more and more insufferable in your eyes. 

gojo is annoying to basically everyone, always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. and you’re certainly no exception — if anything, he’s even worse with you. 

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re not as self-assured as your classmates, and you think he must have sensed it, the moment he laid eyes on you. that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

so as soon as introductions were over, gojo immediately began to push at your buttons. grinning in that cocky fashion, not bothering to hide what he thought of you in the slightest. the first words that came out of his mouth when he spoke to you were rude ones, but you can’t quite recall them, muddled together with every other unneeded comment that he’s thrown your way since. 

his behavior hasn’t gotten better, even in the slightest. gojo is always teasing you, annoying you, trying to figure out what makes you tick. almost like he’s solving an equation — the equation being you, the limit of your patience. 

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin; it’s your own fault, really, for giving him what he wants. a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. if you were more like shoko or geto, then maybe he’d leave you alone — if you could just brush him off, ignore him, not give him the time of day. deny him one of those reactions he loves so much. 

but you’re not shoko. and you’re not geto, either. you’re you, and you’ve always been particularly bad at hiding what you feel.

it’s not like you hate him, or anything. you really have tried to get along with him. but it’s impossible, at the end of the day. gojo is just too good at being annoying. 

and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. you can state his negative traits without a hitch, as well as his begrudgingly positive ones, but all of them are surface level when you get down to it. in truth, you don’t understand satoru gojo at all. 

and that suits you just fine.

you’re just gonna have to live with it. live with him, his presence in your life, disrupting what should have been your peaceful high school years. your new start. 

it sucks, but you’ve already resigned yourself to it. having to deal with him every day is annoying, yes, but what can you do? at least you get along well enough with shoko and geto. at this point, you’ve decided to treat gojo like an annoying little toddler, or an irritating pest. someone to put up with, not take seriously. 

for a pest, he’s awfully good at making you angry, though. you can never seem to maintain your composure, when he’s around. it’s not always a bad thing — the banter can be funny, sometimes. just a tiny bit. doesn’t make it any less infuriating, though.

and in the state you’re currently in, you doubt you could handle it without popping a blood vessel or two.

a heavy sigh flows from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, and your mind is muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts you’d rather not be having. 

you feel thoroughly exhausted, completely spent. and the day’s barely begun. you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, unable to slip into sleep’s embrace without being awoken by an abrupt nightmare. 

and it’s painfully evident. in your face, your posture. in the paleness of your skin, only making your vague eyebags more noticeable, and in the way you can’t help but drag your legs slightly as you walk. in your disheveled hair, in every sigh and grumble you let slip as you try to blink the exhaustion away. you just feel so tired, both physically and mentally. 

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, at the very least. it would’ve been an actual nightmare, in the state you’re currently in; having to stay up, take notes and listen to yaga drone on and on. you like your teacher, you really do, but sometimes his lectures can be just a little bit tedious.

the only reason you even bother to leave your dorm at all, in such a restless state, is so you can grab some breakfast. if you’re lucky, maybe it’ll make you feel a little less like a walking train wreck.

with that thought in mind, you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen, enjoying the sight of the cherry blossoms through the windows you pass.

you’ll manage, somehow. your morning couldn’t possibly get any worse, after all.

when you enter the space, you’re relieved to find it completely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, or even gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t really want anyone seeing you like this — tired, meek, somewhat vulnerable.

least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.

with laboured, groggy movements, you move around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. the sizzling of the pan creates a soothing melody, pleasant to your ears, as you quickly make a lazy breakfast to wolf down. 

when it’s finished, you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables; eager to enjoy the peace and quiet, at last.

but, as always, the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left, too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes across the open space is a chipper one. one you recognize. one you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

inwardly wincing, all you can do is continue to idly sip from your cup of coffee, silently going through all five stages of grief before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

that’s just your luck, isn’t it?

resigned to the sight you know you’ll see when you raise your head, you do just that — and, lo and behold, there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, wearing those ugly sunglasses, making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, as he plops down next to you like it’s nothing. unconcerned about you or your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in a sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s that teasing tilt of his, too, the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

usually, hearing him speak in such an irritating fashion would’ve put you off. maybe you would’ve given him an apprehensive look, or tried to sound unbothered when answering his inquiry — that usually only makes him more intent on annoying you, but you just never seem to learn. 

in your current state, though, you can’t muster up anything of the sort. you’re too tired, too anxious. you just want to sleep. 

and yet, despite your best wishes, here he is; satoru gojo, in all his glory, ruining your hopes of what could have been a peaceful breakfast. you can’t even bring yourself to get mad. today, you just don’t have the energy to deal with him at all.

when you glance his way, your eyes meet, for a second — not like you can actually see them, from behind his sunglasses, but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny. bright and excited. 

you allow your gaze to linger at him for a brief moment, before trailing back to your plate. ”morning,” is all you manage to mutter, before taking a tentative bite of your sandwich. 

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. and it’s a little confusing — he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff. but no such luck. you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

so, after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, studying your face, the way your fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of your cup. he’s always been observant, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

you look out of it, plain and simple. eyes unfocused as you stare into space. gojo is silent for no more than a mere moment, contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. 

did something happen?

— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, teasingly, showing off the white of his teeth.

despite the oddity of your behavior, he can’t hold it back — despite his own intuition, telling him to let you be. he can’t help it. you’re just too fun to tease. 

suguru or shoko just raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog — but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, or something to distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness in his chest.

— but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

he expects you to glare at him, or tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation. either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. traitor, is all he can think. and shoko is nowhere to be seen, either. probably off smoking in some random alleyway, listening to one of her weird indie bands.

the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years, but maybe it’d be just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. but then he entered the kitchen, and lo and behold; there you were, his saving grace. his dear old irritable little classmate. 

a great relief overtook him, when he set his sights on you. oh, thank god — he thought he was going to die of boredom. but with you at school, too, his day is saved. now he can push your buttons to his heart’s content, bask in your playful banter until suguru gets back.

— only this time, you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. all you do is continue to eat your breakfast, and drink your coffee, in silence. intent on gulping it all down quickly, so you can leave. 

gojo’s words aren’t even irritating to you, right now. barely even a hassle. you honestly can’t be bothered with him at all; he can say what he wants, you don’t care. even mustering up the energy to get annoyed feels like too much for your sleep-deprived brain.

gojo waits, for just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. ever so slightly, slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows as his lips curl down into a soft pout.

god — just what is your problem? what is with you, today? it’s no fun if you don’t play along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

whatever. he doesn’t care. not even a little bit. so what if you’re not talking to him? like he cares enough to be bothered by it. gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. not one bit.

(he hadn’t realized he’d begun to look forward to your interactions so much.)

but, really — come on. would it take so much effort to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or what, did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive. right? or is that it? what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you. that’d just be too troublesome.)

nonetheless, a strange frustration bubbles up in his chest. at your lack of reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

it’s fun when you do.

the silence lingers on, stretching out as you gulp down your food while gojo keeps on sulking. he’s still just sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, you can’t help but notice; it’s kind of hard not to, with how loud he usually is. 

but you pay no mind to it, methodically washing your dishes in silence. deciding not to dwell on it. it’s a rare opportunity, after all, one you’d be foolish not to enjoy it while it lasts. you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either, as he sits there. still deep in thought and grumbling curses under his breath. 

he watches you as you leave, gaze trailing after your form until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

no nightmares came to haunt you, this time. you practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, finally giving you some peace of mind, and some well needed rest. maybe having breakfast really did help.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than you got last night. 

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time by just rotting in bed. maybe you can take a walk around the schoolyard? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and it’s a beautiful sight — perfect to enjoy on a day like this, framed by the blue of the sky.

it’s a pleasing mental image. enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, intent on seeing the idea through, before you reach a hand out to push the door open.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of collision between the door and something else. that’s all you hear, all you feel. 

with a low curiosity simmering in your eyes, you exit the room, eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

as you do so, your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place as it lays on the floor. crouching down to examine it further, you recognize it immediately; a small carton of strawberry milk, with a plastic straw plastered on its side. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines. 

you drink it fairly often, every time you need a small pick-me-up. the sweet taste always succeeds in soothing your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it in contemplation, holding it in your hand as the gears turn silently in your head. that’s weird. did someone drop it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

….

your mind stills. 

the idea is odd, to say the very least. so odd that a part of you doesn’t even want to entertain it. but despite your inherent denial, it’s the most reasonable conclusion to arrive at. after all, neither shoko nor geto are there — and that just leaves one possible culprit.

why would he do something like that, though? he doesn’t like you, you know that. so there’s no way — right?

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you seem to like it, contrary to your classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto doesn’t go for strawberry milk if he can choose something else. honestly, it might be the only thing you and gojo have in common, the one thing that binds you two together. a single carton of strawberry milk. it’s almost comical.

(you wonder why he did it, if it’s really true. you wonder if he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you to believe that it’s true, if only because you like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. where could he be, you wonder? in the kitchen? in his dorm?

just as the question enters your subconscious, a flash of white crosses your vision. as you absently glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop, and then begin walking once more. with more decision.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging as he gazes up at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. 

the air is filled with pink petals, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights. it was almost on impulse that you walked over to him, but now that you’re face to face, it’s a little nerve-racking.

still, it’s far too late to back out now. there’s not much to do except join him. so that’s exactly what you eventually do, albeit a little hesitantly.

attempting to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

mustering up the courage to do so is tough, though. the decisiveness you felt when you decided to go see him has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re somewhat nervous to verbalize what was on your mind when you made the decision.

but eventually, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” you start, softly, not looking at him. gaze glued on the cherry trees. but you know his eyes are still on you; you can feel them, and their weight.

the carton of strawberry milk is in your right hand, and you raise it up, faintly. to get his attention. then you look over at him, not quite managing to give him a smile, but you try your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. then he turns his head away, swiftly. his hair is tousled by the movement, a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i don’t know what you mean,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard from him. he sounds almost embarrassed. 

upon closer inspection, you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. a smile finds its way onto your lips, unbeknownst to you — like this, he’s actually kind of cute. denying your implication, when it’s so obvious. 

some part of you was still a little unsure, but gojo’s embarrassment basically confirms it. 

(maybe he’s not as bad as you thought.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but can’t help but stare at him, a little.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. they’re fleeting, hard to get a grasp on. pretty, and so out of reach, despite being so close. 

you could reach over and touch him right now, if you wanted to. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul, and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you almost immediately; you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing a little further. it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles. a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate, either.

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes as they float up into the sky. as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it, surprisingly, in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. the statement catches you off guard, and you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher it. 

unable to resist the temptation, you decide to look over at him. with his eyes conveniently hidden behind his sunglasses, you can’t get a good read on his expression; he’s regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

is that why he got you the drink? 

you just can’t help it. you laugh, lightly, and this time it’s gojo who’s left confused.

”did —” you wheeze, softly, voice thoroughly amused. almost fond. you try to bite back the laughter, but it’s tough. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you, for a brief moment. a little stunned. the sight only makes your smile grow even further, as you meet his gaze, eyes crinkled. you really aren’t trying to tease him — it’s just so funny to you. so endearing. 

from the angle you’re viewing him through, as you lean back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes at last. they’re awfully pretty. blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, white splotches of colour in them. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, uncanny, but now you don’t think that’s quite true. they’re awfully soft, in the sunlight. especially when viewed like this, right after catching him slightly off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though — the moment only lasts for a second or two. 

then he scoffs, abruptly, turning away yet again. you swear that he’s pouting, a little, even if he’s trying to sound annoyed and nothing more.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding irritated as he rests his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you, and you’d bite back. but now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly. the tips of his ears turn red, again, at the sound. 

yeah. he’s really not so bad, after all.

for a while, you don’t say anything else, afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than you ever have before, and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees; childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet, sweeter than usual.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. they’re honest words, after all.

you suspect gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you’re not sure. after all, you’re not looking at him, either — that’d feel a little too embarrassing.

he doesn’t quite know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel a little unsure of himself. your tone is so soft. almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko, or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you, as always. he can’t let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though — more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you just chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and shoot something back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you mumble, tasting the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little embarrassed. ”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust from your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex, before he has to accept that it exists — only this time, he doesn’t succeed. 

the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. and begrudgingly has to accept their existence, after all.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving the confines of his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. ”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered.

the gruff sound strikes you as just slightly flustered. one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

you toss the now-empty carton into a trash can, dismissing the stray thought of keeping it as a memento of the interaction. that’d just be creepy. you are happy, though. you feel as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him, though.

there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye. hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities — it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement, to see how well it holds up. 

the lacking empathic abilities, especially. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it, a little bit. it’s there, despite everything. in those eyes, in that carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. 

all eyes on him, at all times. you think that sounds just a tad exhausting. 

as you return to the safety of your room, you still can’t help but ponder. there’s so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. 

(almost lonely, in a way.)

you wonder what he’s like when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. what is an actor without their audience?

you don’t understand satoru gojo, not really. not at all, not in the slightest.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

part 0

#i wrote this part a pretty long time ago so tbh i dont think my writing is. v good. but hopefully itll get better by the end LMAO #i love hs gojo soo much hes so cute. so shoujo manga ml. n hes so fun to write in a no curses au #i just feel like gojo is such a gift giver. physically cant apologize but throws ur fave bag of chips at ur head n acts like it wasnt him #hes so silly <33 #next part will b geto’s!!! but itll prob take a while bc my geto bias needs it to be Flawless #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[sincerely-sofie]

Twig buffers for a minute at this revelation and then says “Well, duh. You’re super old. Of course it would take work to look like you’re not ready to keel over at any second.”

Celebi laughs so hard she completely ruins the wing she was drawing and Dusknoir sulks for the rest of the day.

#The size of the loaned mascara is open to interpretation #please imagine Celebi wrangling a mascara brush the length of her arm #or Dusknoir using a brush so small he has to pinch it a finger and thumb together to hold it #also be grateful I decided to scrap a gag where Dusknoir’s chest-eyes were wearing false lashes #the image was cursed and I burned it immediately upon completion #stuff by sofie #the present is a gift au #pmd2 #pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd dusknoir #pmd grovyle #pmd celebi #pmd darkrai #future trio

[kittydoremi]

Happy Birthday @weirdozjunkary ! 🥳

MVA Sonic getting a gift from Cursed/Night Giant Sonic!

(If you're wondering how he got a cupcake that big, Mva Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and Amy helped him make it. It took alot of flour and sugar...)

Monsters VS Aliens au belongs to @weirdozjunkary

#Happy Birthday! #friend art #gift art #Mva Sonic #Monsters vs Aliens Sonic #Monsters Vs Aliens #mva sonic au #cursed sonic au #sonic the night giant #birthday art #mutuals #weirdozjunkary #sonic fanart #au sonics #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfics #sth #sonic the hedgehog

[doalkaynaksuyu]

monster high! fyozai gelir mi hocam🙏

my brain chemistry is forever altered

#digital art #digital drawing #art #my art #fanart #digital doodle #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor bsd #dazai bsd #fyozai #btw for anyone who cares fyodor plays a cursed cello and owns a pet rat skeleton gifted by nikolai #also mori is dazais creator #obsessed is an understatement #i love this au #alnından öpüyorum

[powerful-niya]

❀December 15th: Fairytale + Gifted & Cursed + Enemies to Lovers❀

Part 1: Wattpad|AO3|Fanfiction.net.

Part 2: Wattpad|AO3|Fanfiction.net.

Part 3: Wattpad|AO3|Fanfiction.net.

Part 4: Wattpad| AO3|Fanfiction.net.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Summary: Once upon a time... A valiant beast slayer is assigned a duty that profoundly challenges him in ways he has never been challenged before. Mystery follows him around every corner, duplicity mocks him, and treachery waits in the shadows. His mission was clear, but love was never meant to be a part of it.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Tags: Fairytail • Fairy Tail Style • Fairy Tail Curses • Fairytail Elements • Fantasy • Heros and Villains (Once Upon A Time) • Mythical Beings & Creatures • Monsters • Enchanted Forest • Elemental Magic • Dark Magic • Enemies To Lovers • Love/Hate • Romance • Tragic Romance • Adventure • Action • Storytelling • Story Book • True Love • Soulmates • Fluff • Prophecy • Mythological • Fantastical • Royalty • Battle Fic • Beast Slayer/Monster Hunter • Hunters & Hunting • Heavy Angst • Emotional Hurt/Comfort • Tragedy • Psychologial Drama • Dark Themes • Blood & Violence • Graphic Violence • Bigotry & Prejudice • Hate Speech • Hate Crimes • Implied Of Sexual Assault • Implied Sexual Peer Pressure • Minor Mature Mentions • Looong Oneshot/Fanfic • Four Part Story • Eventual Fanfic •

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

MoodBoards:

🌲Hinata🌲

⚔️Naruto⚔️

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

I Hope You Enjoy!

@nh2022

#naruhina #naruto uzumaki #hinata hyuga #nhmonth2022 #powerful_niya #Fairytale AU #Prompt 15 #Enemies to Lovers #Gifted/Cursed #naruhina month #Fairy tail style #Four Part Story #Eventually will turn into a full fledge story! #The story is looong but sooo good!! #Highly recommend!! 😆😆 #December 15th #🗒️ - niya's drabbles/one-shots ✨

[beliscary]

sry for sort of repost i just needed to stick him to my blog fridge

#i needed to give him his own post in my doodle tag bc he's so sad and dramatique #and also chewing drywall bc ultimania lore handed me the gift of more solid reasoning for the ladyhawke au curse #punishment for dion prioritizing terence's life over his own and nearly losing the empire their eikon.... #i doodle on such huge canvases u can almost always open in new tab and Enhance #doodle tag

[nightly-ruse]

At last it is done and I can spill all my thoughts. A bday gift for @spottystyle and of his kittypet Tigerclaw au where she runs away after attacking Bluestar and becomes a kittypet called Catzilla. This is her in the garden with Sasha who stays and becomes her mate in this!!!

Long au thoughts below lol

(BTW Catzilla is a trans kitty using she/her)

While drawing I had so many thoughts. Particularly around how Sasha and Zilla work together and had the idea that maybe before Tiger finds her soon to be owners she is just flitting across the land and while on the run bumps into Sasha who had recently lost her home after her twoleg never come home. The two bond over darker pasts thought Tiger doesn’t share much about her own. But Sash is annoyingly curious. Pushing to know any scrap of knowledge about the mysterious cats story. It is until one night as the stars slightly twinkled above them that Sasha knew what was so scary to share. Scared by what Tiger told her Sasha fled away, running to a place much farther away. Now much more alone then she was before Tiger just walked back, somewhat hoping some group of cats would take her. While walking the streets she did hear a few whispers of some scary cat who controlled the alleys but she didn’t mind. Maybe they’d attack her and she’d finally be done with.

Tiger does find a creature who cares. A kind twoleg who took her in and washed away her fleas. The lifestyle she once mocked now was her own and… she liked it. She was pampered with a pretty collar and bright stuff on her claws. Eventually after a long long while Tiger, now Catzilla meets the cat who left so long ago. And right at her paws were three soft bundles of fluff. Sasha had wandered for a long time but hated it and wanted refuge and by some twist of fate, cruel or joking, led her here. Chatterbox was ecstatic at the new cat in town but they could sense Catzilla not being as thrilled. Eventually the family settles in. Sasha is taken in by the next houses twolegs along with her kits and the two make up. The family’s grown so much already. Catzilla, Chatterbox, Livvy, Sasha, Jinx (Moth), Loki (Hawk), and Spell (Tadpole). Little would she know her kits would run back into the cats she ran from. Her little Loki and Jinx heard some tale from a large group of cats. And Catzilla knew who they were the moment the kits told her about them she told them to never go there. But of course they wouldn’t listen.

Out of story I think Loki and Jinx would check out the newly settled clans and actually kinda love them. Jinx becomes friends with the kind plant cats and learns a lot herself about them, particularly liking to spend time with Leafpaw. But Loki liked the opposite. He’d listen to the stories, hold ever battle tale he heard to heart, eventually begging to join. He named himself Hawkpaw to sound cooler joining Riverclan as a warrior apprentice. Jinx didn’t immediately but she was tempted in by little Leafpaw’s words to learn more, acting as a friend to the cats and occasionally staying for awhile. She does eventually completely join being called Mothwing after the sign that was found to get her to join. Spell stays in town but helps in their own way with the church cats (Spiresight = Tadpole AU). Though Zilla and Sasha’s daughter does come back begging for safety after Moth and Leaf have the three. Idk much later maybe Leafpool still goes back to the clans without the kits and either Catzilla, Chatterbox, Livvy, and Sasha raise the three or Moth stays back and raises them. Eventually bringing them back when she’s told by Leafpool too, having been told that the kits left behind hold the power to save the clans in the harshest fight.

#I love them so much hope u had a amaizng birthday Spotty!!! I may have fallen in love with this au now lol #idk why but I had to name Moth Hawk and Tad with kind forecasting names #Moth named Jinx for the curse she seems to carry Hawk named Loki for his trickery and Tad named Spell for the magic he holds #ruse au’s #WC au #warrior cats au #Tigerclaw #Sasha #sasha wc #livvy wc #Mothwing #mothwing wc #wc mothwing #tadpole wc #hawkfrost #night knacks #gift art #birthday art #birthday gift #warrior cats art #WC Art #warrior cats #Hehe her claw caps :)

[yellowcry]

Somebody: You're definitely the rock of the family.

Normal Luisa: Oh, why thank you! It's really nice

Meanwhile Cursed Luisa: ....

Cursed Luisa, annoyed: Yeah, very funny

#encanto #luisa madrigal #encanto au #cursed gifts au #incorrect quotes

[miracles-and-butterflies]

I wanted to write something for @yellowcry, inspired by their Cursed Gifts AU. Is it ironic for this to be a gift?

A. The AU is amazing and I like writing trauma apparently.

B. It is the Christmas/festive season.

Warning, sensitive topics below.

~~~~~~

You Can Break and Break, But You’ll Still Find Stone

Her skin has always been rough.

Comes with the manual labor and heavy lifting, and nervously biting around her nails probably doesn’t help either.

But today, it is extremely dry and coming off in flakes.

Not even tiny dry flakes of skin that would be considered normal. These are much bigger.

It almost seemed off-colour?

When she took a closer look, what she thought might simply be dust or dirt, was actually grey and didn’t come away when she rubbed at with the thumb of her opposite hand.

She’ll have to get her mother to have a look later.

As she tried to power through her chores, her hands continued getting greyer. They became simultaneously numb and sore making it difficult for her to move her fingers, which only put her further behind.

“Luisa?” Came a voice. “Are you okay?”

Luisa, swallowing, took a breath, looking over her shoulder and the crates she was carrying to see Mirabel behind her, cradling a basket in her arms.

“Sorry, in a world of my own there, I didn’t realise you were here,” she forced a small chuckle. “Do you need me to carry that for you, hermanita? Is it more sewing supplies?”

Mirabel didn’t drop her own smile, but her eyes didn’t look convinced. Her sister was always observant and detail-oriented, more so than Dolores.

“No, it’s lunch. You never came back to Casita for it, therefore I decided to bring it to you.” She explained.

And force you to take a break.

But you can’t take a break. You’re already behind.

As soon as she sees your injury, she’ll take you straight to Mama and then you’ll be put on bedrest.

What would Abuela think of you?

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Luisa set down the crates and tools the basket, slumping down against the barn and quickly digging in. Keeping her spare hand behind her back, and the other hidden as much as possible by the basket.

“Don’t eat so quickly. You’ll choke or make yourself sick.” Mirabel chides, gently.

She nods. She can’t help but a smile a little at Mirabel’s mothering.

Her panic is growing. Her fingers are so sore.

“That was good,” she says, when done. Handing back the basket and gathering the crates again. “Thank you, Mirabel. I’ll see you later, okay?”

She heads off back into town to make these deliveries.

Within seconds, she can hear the quick deer-like pitter of Mirabel’s footsteps as she tries to follow.

“What? You were barely sat down for eight minutes, Luisa. A legal working break is at minimum thirty minutes. You can’t go yet.” Mirabel informs.

“Where did you learn that?” Luisa mumbles, generally surprised. She didn’t know that. “Never mind. I don’t need a whole thirty minutes.”

“You are still legally required to take them.”

“I just got a lotta chores at the minute. I’ll take my break later.”

“You always say that, but then you never do. And a break does not count by you living off caffeine either—”

“Mirabel, why don’t you just go home? Surely you have some book you should be reading?”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Mirabel had somehow managed to slip in front and stopped directly in her path, looking at her pointedly with concern. Then her eyes widened.

“What happened to your hand?”

Luisa yelped.

She hadn’t meant to, it just slipped out. As she did, the crates slipped from her grasp and tumbled onto the ground behind her with a heavy thud.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you… Luisa? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not your fault, it’s just—”

Her explanation was interrupted by a loud cracking coming from her fingers, this time she did cry out in pain.

She lowered her hands, alarmed.

All of her grey fingers were shifting painfully against her hand, visibly twitching and audibly cracking. They hardened, becoming as stiff and lifeless as diamonds.

Luisa could only watch in horror as her hand’s changed. Looking more like the hands of a gargoyle than anything human.

The sensation travelled down from the tips of her fingers, pushing her nails out of their place and shedding what was left of her dry skin, into the palm of her hands and trickling through each individual vein.

She groaned in terror and agony. Her soft and warm live, humanity disintegrating before her very eyes.

Unless…

She grasped one hand right around her wrist, pressing down with all her strength. Trying to stop the spread of stone. Her new fingers cut against the delicate skin, drawing blood that stood out boldly against the dull greys.

Yet it continued traversing her arm.

She pulled away from herself, crying out desperately.

Mirabel, for her part, had been frozen in shock, unable to move or pull her eyes away from the harrowing sight. She couldn’t do anything either but watch her sister suffer, changing into something that was less and less human.

When Luisa remembered Mirabel was there at all, they ended up looking at each other at the same time and locking eyes.

Mirabel reached a helpful hand out and Luisa hit her away, unintentionally hard, not wanting whatever this was to spread to her.

The girl landed on the ground a ruffle of teal fabric, breathing quickly as she pushed herself up and trying not to increase Luisa’s stress by making a scene about herself. She catches a glimpse of her own upper arm, the dress completely torn through and ruined, the skin bruised and bloody.

“L-Luisa, I’m sorry,” Mirabel whimpers.

Luisa stepped back, eyes falling back on her own hands, where both hers and Mirabel’s blood now sat.

Mirabel, her baby sister. Her baby sister, whom she’d always promised to love and protect. Sweet, dainty and sensitive Mirabel. More fragile than one of the fancy glass birds Abuela kept in her room. Who had just gotten hurt because of her. Bless her, she had only tried to help.

She hadn’t meant to hurt her sister.

She can’t… she can’t help it now. She could control her strength. She can’t control… this.

Her body was turning to stone and she could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

#encanto #cursed gifts au #my writing #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #dolores madrigal #alma madrigal

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

Oh yea, I almost forgot this AU... again 😂😅

In short, this is my Gift Of a Savior Rescue Bots AU, a story where the Burns family ancestors killed almost every griffin and other magical creatures so they could keep the island of Griffin Rock.

More story under the cut...

It all started when the town was established in 1649 by Horace Burns, where he and his crew meet a clan of real griffins, a clan commanded by a giant queen griffin that allowed the weak humans to stay on the island and share their land for agriculture. For a long time, even when the griffin queen give her permission to the humans to stay, many of the griffins and other humans were not happy to share and interact.

It wasn´t until Horace married Bertha that things started to go for the worst...

A tragedy happen, a tragedy that took the youngest son of Horace and Bertha, but consequently it also took the oldest child of the griffin queen in an act of horrifying revenge. And now, was the queen´s turn to take revenge...

She cursed the future children of the remaining offspring of Horace and Bertha, singing that, after the birth of a third child, the blood oldest child of every generation would have to be sprinkled on the rocks of her body that was now stone. If this was not followed, the queen promised the Burns family that more than just destruction would be done, but the souls of all of Griffin Rock would be taken and denied their ticket to the next life...

For generations, in secret, the Burns family had been sacrificing the lives of their oldest children for the queen's stone body and to keep the piece. It all changed when a young Charlie saw his older sister die at his father's own hands. He did not want to believe it, but while the years passed by and he distanced more from his family, he understood that it was inevitable and so, his first was going to be the next sacrifice to the queen.

But somehow... he managed to save his first child Kade but ended up paying a price, even when he didn´t know what that punishment was going to be...

12 years later, sometime after the Rescue Boy incident, Cody would start to experience strange dreams and sudden pain in random parts of his body. He thought that it was going to banish soon, but one night after a stressful day he woke from a nightmare with eagle hands and lion ears.

Now Cody is trying to keep this curse away from his family, doing all he can with Frankie´s help to stop whatever punishment is about to hit his family...

On his way trying to keep this secret, Cody finds out that he is not the only one with the power to turn into a mythical creature, as his teacher Msr Hayley can turn into a giant red dragon, Priscilla can transform into a blue mermaid that likes to cause problems in the beach, and another girl named Nancy Morrison can transform into a greedy harpy.

Hayley is happy to help him learn about his new ability and help him adjust to a new lifestyle. Everything was going so fine... until the hunters started to appear...

#my art #my stuff #part of the multiverse #transformers #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #tfrb #tf #rb #art #fanart #au #alternative universe #gift of a savior #gos #mermaid #siren #griffin #mythical creatures #curse #cody burns #priscilla pynch #cody and priscilla #cody burns/priscilla pynch #cody burns x priscilla pynch #ref

[suzienightsky]

Nightmare (ch.6)

gift art for @kittydoremi ✨from her fic! ->AO3 link

Also a little bonus comic of a scene that I loved a lot 😆 from ch.5

(go read her fic it's really good so far)

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic #cursed sonic au #sonic fanart #my art #friend gift art✨ #nightmare #sonic and the cursed bracelet #amy rose #tails the fox #miles tails prower

[chaoticxrobotic]

Been kinda distracted from writing DCA-centric fic as of late due to a severe case of the brainrot. @shookethdev and @crazybookcat ‘s OCs are to blame, so I thought I may as well post some of the incredibly self-indulgent, niche ficlets I’ve been writing about these two lovable, poorly-communicating weirdos.

This is based on a mermaid au we discussed, in which Shoey is a hapless marine biologist and Aftyn is a mer that is, unfortunately, too emotionally invested for their own good.

On Silver Waves

(Fluff/Romance, 1711 words. Mild content warning for mentions of drowning)

Waves threw themselves up onto the slippery, slate-grey rocks that dotted the coastline. Splashes of ice-cold water fell onto their feet, brushing skin and leaving small teardrops of ardent desperation. Shoey peered down into the churning mass, a pulse of thick, roiling nausea worming its way through their gut. The sea was always so beguiling in storybooks, shimmering in tropical azure or tender turquoise. But this ocean was a different beast; a frothing mass of white and grey, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

Shoey went to take a step back, driven by instinct. A grip on their ankle held them fast. 

They brought their gaze down to the figure who stooped beside them, their other hand digging strong claws into stone. Their eyes were beautiful, but disapproving. The secondary, outer layer of their eyelids lowered, brow furrowing in clear confusion, as the filmy set of primary eyelids blinked once. A chittering sound rang from their throat, clear and pretty as a bell. The sound was lovely, but the words, although in a language unfamiliar, were not.

Shoey could make a good guess of what they were trying to say.

Make up your mind, idiot, before I drag you in myself.

The marine biologist let out a laugh that was far steadier than they felt, took one (perhaps final) look at the sky, and stepped over the edge.

Humans were designed to be buoyant, but Shoey felt anything but as they plummeted into the depths with all the grace and control of a crashing car. Kelp towered around them in a forest of dark greens and greys, tangling into strands of hair, trying to hold them fast and keep them close until they drew their final breath. Shoey thrashed against them, kicking out with wild, flippered feet, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before their strength gave out-

Something swiped through the kelp patch, severing thick fronds as easily as a hot knife through butter. Hands closed around either side of their waist, hoising them into an upright position so they could better make out their surroundings.

Afty growled softly by Shoey's ear, trilling two brief notes that sounded similar to

Are you okay?

Shoey gathered themself enough to flash a brief thumbs-up, teeth gleaming through the murky light as they offered a cheesy grin. They whistled a soft tune in response. Afty relaxed their grip, clearly deciding to take that as a sign that Shoey was not in any imminent danger.

They both turned their attention to the sloping heap of rocks that rested a few tail-strokes from them. It was well-hidden, but if you peered closely you could see the dark maw of the tunnel that rested within, leading to the mer's very own lair. Shoey had burned with a desire to see it from the very moment they had learned it existed. Afty had done their best to depict the interior with the sketches they scratched into the sand, but (and Shoey had tried to put this delicately) the mermaid's art skills were crude, at best, and Shoey knew they would much rather see it with their own eyes.

Mindful of how little oxygen could be stored in their lungs, Shoey followed Afty through the entrance to the cave. The initial twists and turns of the passage were narrow, a claustrophobe's worst nightmare brought to life, and Shoey swore they could feel the thud of their heart echo off of the stone as they squeezed through each narrow corner. The only thing to take the edge off of their panic was the awe they felt as they watched Afty navigate each obstacle with eerie grace, twisting their body through the constrictive gaps in serpentine, slick movements.

Two minutes went by before Shoey realised that there might be a problem.

Already they could feel invisible fingers raking against the inside of their throat, trying to prise the esophagus open, to reach down into the lungs and claw at soft, spongy flesh. Their chest was tightening, held fast in the squeezing grip of an invisible vice. They pushed forward with strengthened determination, trying to channel the mounting anxiety into strength and speed that could get them through the tunnels before the ocean claimed their airways.

Always ahead, flitting from shadow to shadow, was Afty's pointed tail. The bone-white tip was almost like a lure, calling to them in silent mockery as Shoey tried to forge ahead through the blackening maze. Their fingertips were growing slick and numb from the algae that clung to each rock, rubbing off so easily at every errant brush of their hand.

Their sense of touch was growing dull and useless, their vision was lost in the swirling murk of the underwater passage, their nose was prickling with sea salt, their ears were filling with the percussive, weighted thump of their heart... And as Shoey opened their mouth to whistle a sharp note of warning to Afty, the acrid taste of water engulfed their tongue, filling them with the terrifyingly desperate urge to cough.

They suppressed the impulse. Barely. But already Shoey could feel blind, animal panic making itself at home in the sprawl of their nervous system, nudging at them to breathe. To cry out. To scream, even, at the fate their own recklessness had bound them to.

The path ahead stretched on for who knew how long, a labyrinth that seemed to have no end in sight. But the way back was equally far, and there was no doubt that they would perish long before they ever breached the surface. They were stranded. Held fast in the crushing embrace of the caverns, buffeted on all sides by the steady flow of water.

Through the swirling mass of black, churned up by thrashing hands and feet, Afty found them.

Shoey felt the brush of a palm against theirs and dug in, nails scraping against flesh in a desperate struggle to have something, anything pliable enough to burrow into.

The mer's song reached them, carried on a fresh wave of panic. It was gentle, swaddled in tender concern, as Afty watched their fight to keep control. Shoey nodded, then shook their head, tears melting seamlessly into the water. Wordlessly, they pointed a shaking hand to their mouth, which opened and closed like a stranded guppy's.

Afty's eyes were narrowed, caught between irritation and attentiveness.  It only took a second for realisation to dawn in their sea-slate eyes. Shoey's own had already begun to close, surrendering themself to the idea of oblivion.

At least they wouldn't have to pass on alone. At least they would have someone with them, someone to hold them close, just as their parents had all those years before-

Something cool and firm pressed itself to Shoey's lips, the sudden force grounding them as firmly as an anchor. Their eyes flew open, wide despite the stinging of sea salt. They gasped, fully expecting to feel a swirling mass of black force its way down their gullet... Only to be met with sweet, sweet oxygen.

The rush was intoxicating, relief distilled into its purest form. They inhaled until their lungs felt close to rupturing, holding it as long as they could before letting go.

Webbed fingers grazed over the curve of their cheek before settling into place, tilting their chin up slightly to better deepen the life-giving kiss. Shoey exhaled sharply, then pressed closer to greedily drink in more from the mer's mouth, uncaring of how firmly both hands squeezed around their waist. They could feel a fluttering, feathery silk brush over the top of their fingers, gills working swiftly as they drew oxygen from the water around them and filtered it into their mouth.

It was a game of give-and-take, a show of tender generosity. Another display of kindness from a mer who had already offered so much. Shoey felt their chest swell from more than just the air filling their body once more. A hand moved, brushing land-roughened fingers over a few strands of hair that flowed, tucking it tenderly behind their ear.

In a sudden rush of affection, Shoey pressed a hand to the sloping curve of the mer's back. They were pulled close, leaving no space between the two, as Afty purred out some token words of protest. No other move was made to stop Shoey, though, and they felt themself preen a little at the thought that Afty was willing to cross this unspoken boundary, together. They drew strength from one another, building on it in turn, as lips brushed over chilled skin, tongues sweeping away any errant traces of salt.

Bone-white claws scraped tenderly through Shoey's hair, brushing it up into a shock of fluff that made the human giggle low in their throat. A begrudgingly amused chuckle was the only response. How would that laughter sound once they broke the waves once more? What other noises could be coaxed from the mer, who already had an uncanny ability to make every sigh and murmur sound like the sweetest song? Shoey burned with a sudden desire to know.

It seemed like a small eternity had passed before they found it within themselves to pull away. Afty appraised them with a stern silence, their beautiful slate-grey eyes taking stock of the cheery smile that had replaced the taut, panicked line of their mouth. Shoey felt their cheeks burn from how wide their lips stretched, but they couldn't find it in themself to stop.

They whistled a long low note, wiggling their eyelashes playfully as Afty's cheeks coloured in the dim light. Their tail snapped through the water, sudden and silent as a whip, slapping them (gently) on the back of the head. Shoey rubbed at the tender spot, raising an eyebrow and wincing in mock pain.

With a single shake of their head, the mer took their hand and began to guide them onwards through the cave. The passage was no less dark, the lack of space no less crushing, but something had shifted. Shoey no longer felt so scared, with the steady presence of that sleek, graceful body beside them. Salvation was just a single kiss away.

And Shoey had a feeling that Afty wouldn't be averse to playing the hero again.

#krill scribbles #I'm working on more DCA fics I promise I'm just notoriously slow and scatter-brained haha #Working on a gift fic that will have both Sun and Moon so... Stay tuned for that ig!! #clan of the cursed #sneakers #Fun fact: Afty is Staff of Afton AU's Y/N. Shoey is from a cursed shoe fnaf au