#foul creature

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VI

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including physical child abuse, violence, and non-con elements. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: IT IS HERE! YES! i purposefully make it long and full of drama to make up for the amount of times I pushed the release back. I also put a lot of my own thoughts in the end author’s notes so please enjoy! I most definitely could not have written this content a year ago let me tell you—

The memory of you struck him like lightning, electrocuting him to his core with panic and disgust. He revoked his touch from you as you began to sit up on the riverbank in acute panic. 

He just stared at you. Tobirama had no idea how he remembered you, yet he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Yes, you were older, but as he considered the shape of your face, he could see the unmistakable look from the forest back then. You had the same nose, such a familiar laugh, and your eyes… even without your sharingan.

He had thought of you as a foul creature. 

That morning when he first saw you in the woods. 

Tobirama had come home much earlier that day in defeat. He hadn’t wanted to stay and train after his encounter with you. He tried to continue, to find another spot to collect himself, but he ultimately couldn’t help but feel that you were still there, watching him. Knowing an Uchiha lurked around in the woods, it was probably best that he didn’t go off alone for his safety.

He remembered how his father stormed toward him when he returned to the compound. Butsuma’s jaw was clenched as tightly as ever, battle-toned arms swinging with each step of his furious gait. He swooped in on his son, grabbing Tobirama harshly by the arm. Tobirama was tugged along awkwardly, his legs too short for the angle at which Butsuma dragged him.

“Where have you been?” his father scolded lowly between gritted teeth. He paid no mind to the Senju meandering down the same dirt road, and they paid no mind to him in turn.

The question nearly made Tobirama’s heart drop in his chest, the memory of you spreading terror like wildfire across his skin. He looked into Butsuma’s gaze with wide eyes, wondering how his father could have possibly known he had made contact with an Uchiha. His fingers unconsciously rose to the space under his right eye, almost trembling. He was sure that his father could feel the tremor through his hold.

“Training, Father,” Tobirama answered earnestly. He almost crashed into Butsuma as his father stopped suddenly, the child only tripping for a moment before he was pulled into a nearby stable. 

“Tobirama, where have you been?” Butsuma barked, repeating his question more harshly. He jerked Tobirama away by the grip on his arm, allowing him to stumble back into the hay. All Tobirama could do was stare, ashamed that he had disgraced the Senju name and that his father could see it painted on him. Promises piled up on his lips: if he saw you again, he would surely kill you that time! He would immediately set out and— “You better answer me now, boy, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“I was training with Grandfather’s kunai, Father! On the east end by the mountains like you taught me!” He nodded profusely, scrambling into a deep bow. Tobirama’s eyes knitted closed. 

The silence above him felt like it lasted for an eternity. Tobirama didn’t dare to look, and for a long moment, he couldn’t even meet his father’s eye. Somewhere between the seconds, he found himself mindlessly observing the small population of livestock grazing at the stable's far end. Tobirama glanced at them and their troughs. 

“You were not with Hashirama?” Butsuma spoke slowly, and Tobirama’s head carefully rose with a shake. 

“No, I was not.” Tobirama flinched as Butsuma’s hand came firmly down on his hair, placing just enough weight on his skull to ensure that all of Tobirama’s attention was on him. “I assure you. I was practicing my skill with the kunai.”

“Your elder brother has been acting suspiciously as of late. I want you to find him and report to me what he has been up to.” Butsuma landed a harsh pat on Tobirama’s back, ushering him away. He scrambled away as quickly as he could back into the forest, still gripping the pack of weaponry on his back.

***

It made more sense after that evening. 

Hashirama knelt on a cushion beside him, the two sons before their father. 

“About this boy you have been meeting up with. I looked into that young man and learned that he belongs to the Uchiha clan. Hashirama, you understand what that means, do you not?” The brothers stiffened, forcing on stoic faces so as not to let their discomfort show. Butsuma’s gaze narrowed. “If you do not want to be suspected as a spy, then you must shadow him after the next time the two of you meet. And if he should notice you… kill him.” 

Tobirama eyed his brother nervously. Undoubtedly, the conflict between the Senju and the Uchiha would mean this was the only way to rectify things. Tobirama stared down at his lap, guilt weighing down on his shoulders. 

There was no way for anyone to know about his encounter with you, and even if his father found out, Tobirama was different. At least he tried to kill you. That was enough, wasn’t it? Unlike Hashirama, he at least tried to do the right thing and kill the Uchiha on sight, no matter his level of success.

After a moment of preponderance, Hashirama spoke again,

“Are you completely sure he is an Uchiha?” 

Tobirama gulped, bracing himself for the heavy hit that awaited Hashirama. But it didn’t come. Butsuma studied him with crossed arms, bubbling rage mounting in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

“You trust a member of the clan who killed your brother?” Butsuma simmered. Tobirama stewed, praying for the moment that he was allowed to leave. Hashirama sat confused and still deep in thought on his cushion, not appearing nearly as worried as he should, in Tobirama’s opinion. “If he has been tricking you, you are putting every single Senju in danger.”

Despite Tobirama attempting to convince him otherwise, Hashirama was reluctant to comply. But after a lengthy beating from Butsuma, Hashirama finally agreed to be followed. As they eventually left the room, Tobirama couldn’t help but avert his gaze from the deep bruises and the forlorn expression on Hashirama’s face. 

***

“I am an apothecary,” you had told him. 

He didn’t ask you where. With the tumultuous clan wars, Tobirama assumed you were part of a smaller, nomadic group. As the more prominent clans and clan alliances fought, non-combatants traveled to safer ground, ironically forming their own larger herds for protection.

That was Tobirama’s first mistake: assuming.

“An apothecary,” Tobirama repeated. You wore his fur, curled up against a bed of river glass and hidden between a mess of boulders. He sat on a nearby rock, the headband you had confiscated and returned to him clutched in a ball in his hand. Tobirama cocked his head. “Is that a healer?”

“A woman healer?” you asked, hardly restraining the tiny smile that graced your lips. Your eyes glowed with wonder as you leaned forward, having never heard of such a thing. “No, I am afraid I only collect herbs for medicine. Although our current apothecary is very old, he taught me how to create medicines when we used to live by the coast. A rare honor.” Tobirama’s eyebrows rose on his forehead with an impressed blink.

“That is admirable. Your work takes a keen eye and a sharp mind.” You shifted against the grass to sit with your legs crossed as you leaned forward. A patch of small river flowers grew in a cluster where the gravel of the riverbank began. The white petals grew sporadically down the length of the land. You weaved your fingers through the tiny stems, the pure light color glowing against your skin. 

“You know about medicine?” you mused.

“Yes, my clan is well renowned for our knowledge of various medicines. The children are taught about these things at a young age, although, I possessed neither a keen enough eye nor a sharp enough mind for healing, to the disappointment of my mother.” You drew a bent knee toward your chest, rearranging your long robes as you gently collected the tiny flowers.

“Was she a woman healer?” You scooted forward to sit in front of him.

“No,” he said, letting you smooth back his hair. “She was a warrior like my father. Wove baskets—beautiful baskets— when she was with us. My grandmother was a master healer, though.”

“A woman master healer,” you breathed in awe to yourself, weaving the flowers into Tobirama’s hair. You couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips. “That is fascinating.” 

“My grandfather used to take me fishing in the northern streams before he passed. He always brought her herbs. Perhaps I could find some of her formulas. You may find them interesting.” 

“Really?” You leaned back on your ankles, admiring the little white flowers that adorned Tobirama’s crown. “I could not ask you to do such a thing.”

“If you are not allowed to learn of medicine and herbs, how else will you pursue being a great apothecary?” You blinked at him in disbelief, taken aback. “That is your dream, is it not? You speak of it often.”

“Do I?” You let out a light laugh, sheepishly averting your gaze. “I apologize. My good friend from home often tells me I speak too much.” Tobirama scoffed.

“Some friend,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he adjusted the fur over your shoulders. “You do not speak too much. Especially when it concerns things you are passionate about. Therefore—” Tobirama plucked one of the flowers out of his hair and tucked it behind your ear. “Tell me about this flower.” 

You instinctively opened your mouth but quickly closed it when you noticed Tobirama’s expression chance. He held a glint in his eye and the beginning of a smile on his thin lips. He leaned forward, brushing your hand along another patch of little petals.

“I know you know this one,” he said softly before leaning back against the boulder behind him. His bright red eyes met your own. They held softness in them. “Please, I would like to listen.”

You almost laughed, your nervousness almost causing you to forget all your knowledge as his touch left you.

“They call this purity flower. It is incredibly delicate, and they only grow this big.” You stared down to where Tobirama had placed your hand. “You can do quite a few things with them. They are wonderful for sore throats, sanitizing wounds, upset stomachs…”

You brushed through them, and a few flowers crumpled under your fingers.

He would never forget that. The way your face fell as the flowers at the center of the cluster began to shrivel.

***

He was smarter than Hashirama. 

Tobirama wasn’t a traitor to the clan. Tobirama wouldn’t be caught fraternizing with an Uchiha like his foolish brother. He was stern, calculating. He was so careful. 

He had carried his prized Uchiha-killing kunai with him the entire time. 

It was strapped to his leg when he first chased after you. 

It was with him as you adorned him with blossoms. 

He held the same knife he had once held up to your neck as he screamed in your face that he would carve out your eyes the entire time. 

And he had another chance.

It was right in front of him, as you blathered on about the daylight. Your lips moved, but nothing came from your mouth. 

He had another opportunity to redeem himself. 

The moment of his childhood that haunted him for many nights could have been corrected. Tobirama was a true warrior now. He could have killed you. He could have carved out your sharingan, sinking his kunai into your skull as you screamed and kicked under him, just as he promised long ago. No one would hear you out here. 

He could do anything he wanted to you.

But he hesitated again, and now his only weapon was lost.

The time you had been sneaking around had hardly been long; the days in sum dwarfed compared to a year. 

And now he watched you in the morning sun, his heart and head doing a double take as his eyes hurriedly searched for the kunai he had pushed into the river. But it was long gone. 

“It is morning?!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. Startled, Tobirama scurried up with you, stumbling back until one of his feet sank into the rushing water. You lurched forward instinctively to steady him.

“Do not touch me!” he barked, and the gruffness of his voice made you recoil. He faltered, sputtering with a vigorous shake of his head. Tobirama balanced himself as the cold, rushing current pushed at his knee. He looked up at you, staring into your wide, confused eyes. 

Looking upon you in the daylight made him view you in a way he never had before.

Yes, he could see it now. 

He could see the Uchiha in you… and it was ugly.

Every part of him burned. It was as if he had been coated in mud, leaving his skin irritated, itchy and inflamed. He wished he could scrub every inch of himself of you. Slice, scratch, and claw into himself to erase the ghost of your lingering touch. 

Tobirama burned with shame. 

You shifted, moving to speak, when something covered your eyes. You snatched it slowly in confusion, but as the silk ribbon slid from your hair to drape over your fingers, your eyes quickly widened even farther than they already were. Tobirama stood in the water, watching you with a pounding chest as you, too, stumbled back. Your gaze darted from the Uchiha crest to Tobirama, who, for once, did not hold any softness in his expression. 

“Oh.” You held your shaking hand up to your lips. You took another step back. Tobirama didn’t move.

He looked angry, the tension of his clenched jaw just about making the entirety of his body shake. His brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and rage. And all he could do was stare at you with fists balled up in mounting fury. Tobirama’s eyes turned glossy as he held back the burning tears that threatened to spill over his waterline. 

You weren’t thinking, not as you stepped forward and spoke his name.

You wanted to go to him, tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Something. You tried to tell him something, anything.

You stepped forward, and Tobirama planted his second foot in the water.

“Do not come closer, Uchiha!” he spat. His words halted you in your stride. Tobirama stumbled back, splashing in the shallows. His clothes were drenched with dark patches which adorned his legs and sides. He held his hand up, almost as a buffer between him and you. He shook, and droplets fell back into the rushing current of the water. 

His father’s words to his brother repeatedly played in his head. 

Tobirama had been endangering his clan all this time. He had been reckless and naive, just like his brother. He sat as the current rushed by, stuck and frozen like a cornered animal, trying to calculate how many of his kinsmen could have been saved if he had been more sparing with his tongue. 

You spoke in a meek voice,

“Tobirama—”

“Get out of here! Do not dare show your face back here, foul creature; I will kill you!” he screamed with all the weight of his guilt. Tobirama rose to his full height, hulking shoulders squared. You didn’t wait a second longer before you ran. You ran straight into the brush, and in an instant, you were deep into the forest. You could still hear Tobirama shouting behind you. “I will kill you, Uchiha! I will carve out your sharingan! I—”

He choked the moment he lost sight of you.

Tobirama dropped to his knees, splashing again down into the water. He heaved, his throat burning as he threw up into the river's current. Tobirama uttered a strangled cry, mucus dropping from his mouth and nose. Hot tears poured down his face as he gasped into the surface, nearly drowning himself in the water and his own mess. 

You continued to run. You ran through the woods, paying little mind to the scrapes you collected as you rushed back toward the Uchiha colony. Your foot snagged against a fallen branch, causing you to smack face-first into a nearby log. You scrambled to your feet, heart pumping as you continued back home, your breath rasping rhythmically in your ears. Wetness streamed down your face, combining tears, snot, and blood to cake your skin. 

But as you grew closer to your colony, the scent of smoke grew stronger. And as you looked up between the branches, you could see a dark cloud rising into the air. 

The weeping became clearer. Agonized weeping. 

You burst forth from the trees to your family’s garden. 

To where the garden should have been, but the garden was gone.

Your home was gone, and a smoking pile of charcoal was left in its place. 

A few structural beams shot out from the pile of char, like pleading limbs reaching up toward the heavens for a salvation that would never come. The paper walls were gone. The engawa had been reduced to rubble. The engawa that you and Madara stood on just hours before while your parents discussed your union.

…

Your parents.

You shouted for them, rushing straight for the ruins of your home. Large masses of char littered the streets, marking the resting places of other houses just like yours. Your eyes darted about in a frenzy, making eye contact with the mourning Uchiha, who littered the dirt streets for any confirmation that your parents had made it. 

“Where are my parents?” You cried to people who averted their gazes. One woman covered her child’s ears, holding him close to her chest. “Have you seen my parents? Please! Someone! Did they make it? Will you not answer me?” 

But no one answered you. 

There was just weeping.

You didn’t see their faces or those of your family. 

You raced toward the rubble, rifling through the mess with tears blurring your vision. You were howling something, letting words spill and tumble from your lips with the same liquidity as the water pouring from your face. Your fingers began to sting. Debris cut your skin, forming abrasions that filled with soot and dirt as you clawed at what used to be your home. 

A muscular arm looped under your torso. You kicked your legs as you continued to wail, pounding your fists at the back of red armor. You could only watch as you were slowly carried away from the wreckage of your home, the reminisce of other ruined buildings gathering into your blurry view with every step. 

You went limp about halfway down the road, hanging upside down with your cheek smushed against a bloody backplate. You cried, the compilation of mucus stuck in your nose, causing your sinuses to burn. You coughed, fist pounding a last time against armor before you were dropped back to the ground. 

Your knees gave out under you, and before you stood Madara. 

Tall, hulking, and imposing Madara with a somber expression on his face and a gaping wound on his side. He still held you by the hand, your fingers just barely hooked on his. His feet were stained with blood and caked with dirt, and sitting in the disturbed dirt road sat vials of herbs and a collection of your supplies from the apothecary. 

Only then did you notice what he was surveying behind you, letting your hand drop from his.

Bodies of the injured were splayed out on salvaged blankets in the middle of the street. The able-bodied scurried around with what little medical supplies could be salvaged from the remains of your village, tending to warriors, women, children, and elders alike. Your head snapped back toward Madara.

“You must make medicine,” Madara said in a voice barely above a whisper, although it was by no means gentle. He held a gruffness in his voice. Frustration laced his tone. You heaved yourself up, something about being on the ground making you feel more vulnerable than you already felt in your confusion.

“Madara, I—”

“What?” Madara snapped, jerking forward at you. You recoiled, lips closing instantly. “What now, woman? Can you not see the crisis laid out in front of you? You have received exactly what you wanted and yet remain stubborn even when a man is giving you direct instructions.” You were still dazed.

“Where is Makihara?”

It wasn’t hard for Madara to wrestle you back to the ground. Your head slammed against the dirt, the vials of herbs and medicine sideways in your vision. Madara’s lips touched your ear as he spoke venom directly into your skull. His words sent a submissive chill directly into your heart.

“For the sake of the gods, make the goddam medicine and cease your difficulty. Your clan head bids it.” He released your head, which was engulfed in his wide-handed grip. You stared dizzily at his back as he walked away, his form wavering in your vision.

“Clan… head?”

***

Madara was officially deemed the head of the Uchiha clan later that night, bare except for his loin cloth as his body was painted with sacred symbols. He sat like a king on the ruins of the Uchiha village, looking pensive and severe.

The ceremony was intimate, traditional, and without frills.

Somber.

What was left of the village wasn’t made to attend, but most showed their faces in the torchlight, gazing upon their new leader as Madara was adorned with red and white paint. The population of Uchiha gathered around him, squishing together to watch the decoration of their new leader. 

Madara sat amongst the ruins of what used to be your colony, looking solemn in the warm glow of the flames around him. He stared ahead. A surviving elder smeared two lines of red paint under Madara’s eyes with shaky fingers. Bandages covered the elder’s eye, wrapping all the way around his head. Another elder brushed his frail hands over Madara’s cheeks with white before anointing his forehead with his thumb. 

You had made that paint. You admired it from the back of the crowd. 

A few children had been sent to gather pigmented clay while you exhausted the rest of your herbal supply on medicinal remedies. Even with what you made stretch, you barely had enough to treat all the wounded. Burying the dead had taken all day. 

Madara stood in front of all the Uchiha, bare-chested and painted in holy symbols as the clan revered him. He barked, the deep, powerful sound resounding from his chest. His colored abs flexed with the call, and the Uchiha chanted back, filling the surrounding forest with spirited howling. 

He stood as the new leader of the Uchiha clan, yet the colors that adorned him were yours, as were the herbs that decorated his wound.

***

Your parents were dead.

It was a fact that you recalled often during the mindless time you spent crushing herbs, beseeching the weight of it to sink in. But instead, you were met with numbness, even as the mourners around you grieved their lost loved ones. 

You sat under your makeshift canopy on a rug of simple woven threads. The three sides of your new apothecary were draped with fabric, acting as a buffer to the light night breeze. And there you thought, pulverizing medicine with your pestle to replenish your depleted medicinal supply. As the clan’s only apothecary, you could no longer collect herbs. In a strike of irony, this in turn meant that you were too important and no longer allowed to leave the Uchiha’s new territory.

You hadn’t noticed Madara’s presence. Only when the torchlight from outside no longer filtered into your tent did you think to even blink. He stood over you, harsh shadows cast across his face from the lone lamp that lit up your workspace. Madara’s colors had faded from his skin, but the stain from the dye remained as the faintest of hues.

You could just barely see the holy symbols.

“Does the new location please you?” 

You stopped, the moment of distraction allowing the ache in your hands to set in. You nearly dropped your pestle, recoiling slightly as the tension froze your fingers. You had been working since daybreak.

“I cannot say I have been able to see much of it, Madara.”

“Come, then.” 

To your surprise, Madara extended his hand to you. You looked upon him with exhaustion, almost to ask if he genuinely meant what he spoke. He waited patiently for you to place your hand in his before whisking you into the surrounding woods. 

***

The Uchiha had retreated farther inland, upstream to the higher ground by the mountains. The trees were large in these parts, far larger than you were used to. They extended twice the height compared to the ones in your previous territory, towering large fans of leaves up toward the starry night sky. Even the vast constellations appeared brighter in these new parts. 

Madara walked a step or two in front as you strolled across the rocky terrain. You panted as you struggled up a steep incline. Madara hadn’t bothered to help you, instead moving along onto the level above. Small stones that littered the surface of the earth slid under your sandals.

“I am—” you huffed —“I am not as agile as I used to be.” 

Madara laughed somewhere above.

“You are in your prime. What is this talk of agility?” 

You pulled yourself up onto the dirt with the help of an exposed root. You fanned yourself, wiping the sweat off your brow as Madara chuckled somewhere in front of you.

“I meant that I no longer climb trees every day, Madara. Perhaps that is something you do, oh great clan head, but not I.” 

You turned to stand, suddenly struck by the view before you. Madara stood just ahead, holding up a branch with his forearm to expose the landscape. You hurried over, framing yourself in the window of leaves that Madara created. From up so high, you could see how the trees covered the land for miles, bisected by one of the Land of Fire’s many rivers in the distance. 

“Are you able to say if the new land pleases you?” You caught Madara’s eye for a split second, quickly averting your gaze at the sight of his sentimental expression, your aloneness suddenly growing palpable. You nodded.

“Moving the clan here was clever. Having the high ground and access to fresh water will only serve to be prosperous.” You offered him a gentle smile and a nod, glancing back at the scenery. “I know you will make a great clan head, Madara.”

“We will see about that,” Madara admitted in a rare moment of self-doubt. The confession made your forehead crinkle instantly. You cocked your head, taken aback. Madara sighed, almost as if reading your thoughts before you spoke them. “The elders— the remaining elders— believe that I am still quite young to be taking up the mantle. They still hold power when it comes to making decisions on behalf of the clan. At least, until they deem I have grown into my title as clan head.”

“Why make you leader at all if they are going to make such fuss?” you scoffed, knowing very well the answer. 

You sat down at the cliff's edge, watching the moon in the distance, and Madara came to sit next to you. He shifted, having more difficulty getting situated than you. The branch he had been holding up came down to smack him on the back of the head. 

“I have had similar thoughts.” Madara looked off with a troubled frown. “I worry for the future of the Uchiha. Our numbers dwindle with every battle. And with this last raid, the women will be forced to join the militia.” 

“Is this true?” you nearly exclaimed. You withdrew into yourself, brushing a finger across your bottom lip. The news rattled around in your ribcage. “How unorthodox!” 

Madara sneered, and it hardly took his admission of “I am against such things” for you 

to understand his stance on the matter. You let him grumble to himself, once again lost in a daze, as you took some of the dry dirt below between your fingers. 

“Madara,” you called softly, and he perked up with a hum. Between the chaos of the last few days, you were hardly allowed to give anything proper thought. Of all the terrible things to sink in, you only had one worry on your mind. “Do you believe I might be sent to fight the Senju?”

You stared into Madara’s eyes. Tobirama’s fearsome expression flashed across your mind as you recalled his promises to take your life. They made you shiver. 

“I would think not, given that you are acting as the lone apothecary of the Uchiha,” Madara answered, his voice deep and soft. “Besides, I forbid it.”

You didn’t know what to say as you let the bit of relief Madara’s words brought you to wash over your thoughts. Whether you intended it or not, you had made yourself invaluable to your clan. They weren’t about to put you on the front lines anytime soon. 

Madara spoke your name.

“Do you like it?” he asked. You weren’t paying attention again. You blinked to yourself, his deep voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Do I like what?”

“The new land, does it please you?”

“It is… not home,” you admitted. “But the landscape does please me, yes. I am certain it will be home soon enough.” Madara closed the space between you before gingerly placing two fingers under your chin. He turned your face toward him.

“I am clan head now.”

“Yes, Madara, I am aware.” You tried to subtly turn your chin away, but he held firm, boring into you with vigilant eyes. Nocturnal insects chattered in the forest behind you.

“No other bachelor in the Uchiha can provide better than I.” You had no other choice than to meet his dark gaze. He spoke to you earnestly. “Will you not reconsider marrying me?” A frown tugged at his lips. Worry swirled on his face.

“We are far too young, Madara.” You took his hand, gently removing it from your skin. You folded in on yourself, backing away from the edge as you bashfully gripped the fronts of your robes to dry your sweaty hands. Madara pivoted, leaning back to keep you in his sights, the moon’s slow, enshrining him in a silver silhouette. You curled into the earth. “Besides… too much has happened for us to think about such things.”

You could feel it: the urge to fight you on the tip of Madara’s tongue. Indeed, other Uchiha have married at your age and younger. Sometimes, young girls would be considered ready for marriage after their first menstrual cycle. But to your surprise, he didn’t fight you at all. Instead, he came to sit next to you. 

Madara could’ve fought you on several things. He hadn’t yet forgotten the mystery beau he was convinced was keeping your affections from him, nor was he thrilled that you had been named as the clan’s sole apothecary through a simple process of elimination.

You hadn’t forgotten his attempts to strongarm you into marriage or the terrifying outburst that caused you to run away. Although, with your parents gone, you were placed supremely in charge of your fate. Try as he must, not even Madara could force you into marriage. 

But when it came down to it, with your family dead and your lover disgusted by your bloodline, you were left again with Madara. That had been how it always was. Having lost so much during the clan conflict, you were always left with each other, weren’t you?

As you began to weep, Madara scooted backward to be with you. You leaned against him, placing your head on his shoulder as you continued to cry, holding his arm to bury your face into the sleeve of his robes—dark, round spots soaked into the fabric.

Madara held you in the dimness as the surrounding clearing filled with your sobs. It had been the first time you were allowed to cry. The first time you truly had to confront the regret that haunted you from the few days prior. For his capriciousness and overall little patience for sentiment, Madara nurtured your vulnerability. 

His fingers trailed lightly over your hair, rounding up stray strands behind your ear. He pressed his temple against the top of your head, caressing down your jaw to clear away the tears that slid down your cheeks with his thumb. Madara lifted your face, his second hand cupping the other side of your face as he continued to swipe away the wetness from your face. 

You held his wrists in your ginger grip, as he laid a tender kiss on your forehead. He gazed into your teary eyes in the moonlight, casting away another stream of tears as he offered a gentle kiss to your right cheek, and then your left. 

His nose nudged against yours, staring into your glassy eyes. You let them flutter shut, causing more droplets to splash against your face. Madara placed his lips on yours, holding the sides of your face as he kissed you with earnest. 

You kissed him back for a moment, only for a moment. The shape of his face was different than Tobirama in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger on. He had rounder cheeks. A longer bridge to his nose. Madara’s hair draped over his shoulders to tickle your skin.

You pulled away, just the slightest distance between your face and Madara’s before he leaned in again. You pushed against his chest, but his movements this time were more forceful. He held you firmly in his grip, his fingers pinching against your cheeks as he lowered himself on top of you, pinning you against the earth and his larger body. 

Your eyes went wide, the entirety of your body going frozen as Madara moved against yours, his once gentle motions now a gnashing of lips and teeth that made you press your head into the dirt. You tried to gasp his name in protest, but your words were muffled. His forearm rested to the right of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he smored your airways. His fingers tugged awkwardly at your hair, causing you to wince as he pulled the strands. You pushed on his chest again, kicking your legs under him, but Madara lowered more of his weight on top of you. 

A line of saliva connected the two of you when he finally ceased his assault on your lips. He gazed upon you with lidded eyes before he continued, tucking his head in the crook of your neck. You screamed as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, tears pouring from your wide eyes as you stared up at the pitch black night sky. Madara’s hand swiftly came over your mouth, to muffle the shrieks that tore from your throat.

You flailed violently, limbs lashing in adrenaline-fueled terror to no avail as Madara kept you pinned to the earth with his larger, heavier frame. And then you felt a hand dip into your robes, tugged the top material from your shoulders to grope at your chest. You cried harder, squealing like a pig at the slaughter as you finally managed to squirm an arm free.

You thrashed it around in a flurry of scratches and strikes. Your hand snagged on Madara’s face as you tried to scoot out from underneath him, causing him to shoot backward. Blood dripped from his nose, forming a nasty pool of red in tandem with the jagged gash that sliced diagonally across his upper lip. 

He looked at you in confusion and anger; blood streaked across his fingers. You scrambled to your feet, darting down the mountain and back to the new colony. 

You would never speak of that night again.

Madara dropped all speak of marriage.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Lots of fun author’s notes: I hated the pacing of this fic. It used to have really low notes in the early days so I think I got a little sloppy with it, and now it’s exploded out of nowhere! I hope this “retcon” fixes some of the plotholes!

I would like to think the teen years were made purposefully vague and dreamy so that the transition to the dark content is more impactful. Yes, yes we’ll say that!

I don’t always imagine what Reader looks like in my stories (I usually don’t) but this one I do! I usually picture Lupita Nyong'o. Not sure if that adds or takes away for any of you. Who I picture ultimately doesn’t matter

I’d also like to think the whole scene where Tobirama scares Reader off is like any movie where a protagonist has to scare off a loyal dog. Like, “Go on, boy! Git! You’re not welcome here! Git!” while like throwing rocks or something.

Also a reminder that I am not a smut author, so please withhold any thirst comments or requests. Thank you. 

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake​

[randomtheidiot]

I don’t care if he’s the PokéAni fandom’s baby boy who’s special and pure. Ash will always be a little bit of a freak in my eyes due to how he was portrayed in the pre-digital stuff.

[fisharenotreal]

i found this little freak at saver’s today. name suggestions appreciated

[dairogo]

Riza: you know, Fuhrer Bradley had a teapot for each flavour of tea he liked so they'd be properly infused with the right flavour

Roy, putting an Earl Grey teabag into his coffee: purists get nowhere in life

Riza, crying: they get somewhere

[the-wheat-zone]

This is hands down the most vile thing I have ever created in my time as an artist

[polycharismas]

what is she doing

[christa7823]

[tagerrkix]

Eden was their ✨disney princess era✨

[obsob]

the accolade ( the...the cat-olade...)

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

SAGAU brainrot where after being hunted for being an "imposter" in Fontaine you escape to the sea, desperate for somewhere safe- or somewhere to die peacefully, the blood from your wounds seeping into the water and staining it red, then an odd glittering gold. it's blissfully silent under the waves, sea creatures flocking around and following you through the depths as you sink deeper and deeper, eyes finally having a chance to close after days of staying awake out of terror. there's a small, exhausted smile on your face, weak and dizzy from the blood loss but finally not being pursued, left alone to pass peacefully from this world you used to love so much.

but you don't die- instead you're awoken by a mournful echoing sound, the water around you sparkling and peculiar. you move your hand and the water moves with it, swirling into flowing designs like silk, cushioning your open wounds and soothing the sting. the echoing sound calls again, closer this time, and when you turn you meet the crystalline eye of a familiar face- Foul Legacy, adorned with fins and patches of scales from the influence of the Primordial Sea.

Legacy's eye widens at the site of you, his song changing from saddened to ecstatic, then fading as he takes in your wounds, just barely scabbed over and shining with gold. he whines, quickly swimming a circle around you and wrapping his tail around your legs- who dared to do this to you, the Creator? who dared lay a hand on your skin, tearing it so? he knows it's you, his Abyssal instincts soothed and calm in your divine presence, and Foul Legacy lets out a low growl at the thought of someone hurting you. but it quickly turns to a whimper when you flinch away, his claws hovering over your shoulders as he croons gently- you need rest and time to recover, and he gently wraps his arms around you as your eyes close, nudging his horned head against your cheek with a sweet purr, the first kindness you've experienced in Teyvat.

together you sink further into the Primordial Sea, away from the ignorance and hatred of the surface above, and Teyvat falls silent once more.

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part V

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: @norasincubi​ Warning for dark themes ahead, including forced marriage, violence, and assault. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: It’s miraculously here.

“What’s going on here, Madara?”

He sat at your low chabudai, arms crossed as he refused to meet your eye. An incomplete variation of his armor adorned his shoulders, the thick leather ties of his pauldrons crossing over his broad chest and tied under his arms. Even in your home, Madara couldn’t quite leave the battlefield. Tajima sat next to him, legs crossed and face unreadable. 

“Please sit.” Your mother ushered you to an open cushion. You settled down next to your father directly across from Madara. Your longtime friend held his closed-off posture, eyes closed as if he were above the interaction.

“We have been in negotiations with Tajima and Madara—” Madara’s eyes opened lazily at the mention of his name. Then, your heart dropped. —“And we believe that Madara will be a most suitable husband for you.”

You couldn’t help the wideness of your eyes as you stared into his dark pupils in horror. The room had gone still. And for a few moments, it was just you and Madara. Your parents' voices grew muffled as you searched for answers in Madara’s unyielding gaze. How long had he known about this? Tajima mirrored Madara’s crossed arms with a nod. 

“Yes, your compatibility is undeniable. We are confident that the two of you will bear the strongest of Uchiha children.”

The rest of the conversation passed you by.

You weren’t ready to marry.

***

The door shut behind you, leaving you and Madara outside on the engawa. Your fingers lingered on the closed entrance behind you. Madara stood next to you, silently watching you out of his peripheral. Your heart fluttered as you caught bits and pieces of the finalized negotiation inside. 

The arrangements in the past were different from this. You had never been without a say, and all of the other suitors had been bumbling at best. But now that you considered it all you supposed that Madara was a high-value bachelor few families would pass up.

“We are honored that the pride of the Uchiha has expressed such interest in our girl,” your mother’s muffled voice said through the door. “Madara has grown into quite a warrior. You must be so proud, Tajima.”

Fireflies lit up the garden. 

Outside and eavesdropping, it felt like you and Madara were kids again. You remembered when you stood outside the meeting hall together, you on his shoulders as you tried to listen to what the adults were saying. You had been friends for so long. The decision to ask your parents for your hand in marriage shook up all the thoughts in your head like a mighty gale. You didn’t want to know what the adults were saying now.

You let out a shaky breath; the thought of making even the slightest eye contact with Madara made you sick. It took effort to muster up the will, but you found the strength to tear yourself away. As you paced toward the forest, you slipped on your shoes, fetching your foraging basket. Madara followed through the garden after you.

“Stop!” he commanded, but you ignored him and pressed on. He called your name. “Stop! Come back here!” You felt his hand grip your sleeve. You reacted viscerally, pivoting instantly to tear yourself away from his grip. 

He stopped in his tracks. Madara had seen many horrific things in his life. He had seen all kinds of violence possible simply by fighting on behalf of the Uchiha. Your outburst hadn’t halted him, nor had your blatant defiance of his booming orders. But the tears that welled in your eyes…

“You do not lay your hand on me, Madara!” The rawness of your voice grated on your throat. An invisible spray of spit flew from your lips. The first stream of tears had already begun to run down your face—only two, one from each eye. 

He watched you. He watched your face in confusion, not understanding why your it had begun to crease and contort as pathetically as it did.

“I thought you would be pleased,” he said, almost in an accusation. Madara turned, running his fingers over the lower part of his face with jerky movements. “I do not understand.” He glanced at your house and the shadows of your parents through the paper door. His hands gestured curtly through barely restrained anger. Madara had always been severe in everything he did. “I do not understand. I thought you would be pleased.” 

You stood frozen and wide-eyed. You looked past him, over his shoulder at nothing. The tears reached the end of your face, hanging off your jaw. 

“That is why you have been talking to my father, I suppose?” Your voice was as small as you felt. You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand. “For how long?” 

“I do not understand—”

“How long, Madara?” you snapped. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. A few birds fluttered away, their wings beating as the branches shook. 

The silence hung in the air, palpable. Madara observed you as silently and stoically as he usually did. His hands fell to his sides.

“I approached him a sennight ago while you were out foraging.” You didn’t look at him, pivoting on your heel away from him as you hid your face in your hands. He followed you unconsciously, circling around you. “I know that is where you would be. You always labor yourself.” 

You could see out of the corner of your eye how desperately Madara wanted you to look at him. But you knew if you faced him head-on, you would be at a loss for words. It was all too much. It had all been too sudden.

“I do not understand.” His voice cracked. Madara took a step closer. “You will never want for anything! I am the strongest warrior in our village. Izuna is the second strongest. You will never have to worry about fighting.” He took another step as you sunk in on yourself. “All I wish is to provide you with a peaceful life and home. You will never have to labor the way you have ever again!” 

You mustered up the courage to stare at his chin and nothing more. The more you willed yourself not to cry, the deeper the burning sensation behind your eyes became. By the time you lifted your head, he was towering above you. Hulking and wide as he was, even without his full armor, Madara cast a colossal shadow over you. His hands hovered around your shoulders as if he deliberated on touching you.

“What about… what about the apothecary?” you croaked, all of the Uchiha customs ingrained into your head as a child flashing across your mind. “What will happen to the apothecary when you own my life?” His hands settled firmly on your shoulders, giving you a shake.

“I am certain Makihara will appreciate your donation of herbs every now and then.” Tears pooled up in your eyes, spilling over again. The corners of Madara’s lips twitched upward, causing a strain in his cheeks. “I will provide you with a garden where you can grow all the herbs you have ever dreamed of! You will have a new purpose.”

“What?” You shook your head, dazed by Madara’s raving illustration of your future together. “Makihara… He has grown so old. Who will make the medicine if I do not?” You gripped Madara’s wrists, but he wouldn’t pull off of you.

“The village has an apothecary—” Madara grabbed onto the fabric of your sleeves. You tried to pull away.

—“I have been the village apothecary for—”

—“It is not safe for you there! The last raid on the village—” 

Your foraging basket fell to the ground. 

The crazed look in his eye struck fear into your heart. You flailed, pushing him hard as you stumbled back. You readjusted the loose sleeve that had fallen off your shoulder. The two of you stood at odds, just a few steps on separation in between. You huffed, catching your breath from the panic that coursed through you as Madara observed you with predatory eyes. 

“Why did you arrange this, Madara?” you pleaded, holding the sides of your robes close and closed over your chest. “Why me? Out of all the girls in the village falling over themselves for your hand, why did you choose to take me? You know what will happen, so why?” And your teary eyes met Madara's for the first time that night. You hiccuped, voice shaky and uneven. “We were friends…?”

“How do you still not understand?” he roared, and as he stormed toward you, you were fearful. You didn’t have a moment to think about escaping before he had you again. Madara plucked your wrists up, holding them punishingly tight. 

“Madara! You are hurting me—”

“It has been you! It has always been you! I have loved you always! How can you not comprehend that I only wish to keep you safe? To give you the world at your feet!”

You flinched, crying as you braced yourself against his storming fury. 

“You frighten me, Madara!” you cried. “Please do not do this! It is not too late to take it back! Please take it back! You can say that your mind has been changed!” The right side breast of your robes had stained dark with wetness from your face.

Madara lowered himself until his eyes were level with yours. You quivered, still flinched in on yourself. He held your tense arms in his large hands. Madara spoke your name.

“Look at me.”

“No, please, Madara, do not—”

“Look at me!” 

His shouting and the tight grip he had on you made you yelp. You opened your eyes hesitantly, almost squinting as you stood with your feet barely on the ground. You were met with the red, swirling pattern of Madara’s sharingan. That had been enough. Whatever Madara hoped to read in the depths of your soul had been there. 

He threw you down. You landed on the grass below, patches of dirt staining your knees. 

“There is someone else,” he said curtly, expression unreadable. The red of his irises swirled back into black. Panic set in. You forgot how to breathe as you tried to scramble to your feet. 

“No! There is not!”

Madara stopped you as you reached your knees, once again lowering himself. His wrists rested at the sharp bend of his legs.

“Who is it? Who is it that keeps your heart from me?” If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he had spoken to you with softness. You must’ve looked dreadful as snot and tears ran down your face. He took a silk tie from his hair, letting his mass of black strands fall past his shoulders as he swept your ruffled hair from your messy face. You stammered as he tied your hair back. “Will you not be truthful with me?”

“It is no one, Madara.”

The absence of a response did nothing to quell your worries. Madara didn’t speak a word. He rose with his usual scowl. He left you on the ground, speaking over you.

“No matter,” he finally said. “I will kill him by my own hand. You will see. I promise. I will provide for you.”

He left. 

***

You shambled off into the forest not too long after. 

You didn’t know where else to go. 

You had gone to the grotto where you regularly met Tobirama. It wasn’t your regular meeting time, but a small part of you still hoped he would miraculously be there. Instead, you were met with emptiness and darkness. 

You dragged yourself out to the edge of the riverbank. The water washed past you as you sat. The coolness of the water quelled the heat beneath your skin. You ran a hand through the herbs that grew among the gravel. Tiny sprouts grew from where you last cut them. 

The wetness turned the bottom of your robes dark and heavy. The moisture traveled up to your hips as you sat, staring at the land on the other side of the river. You curled in on yourself, wondering if running was possible.

Perhaps this was what you were waiting for, something to jumpstart your ambition. You could live with Tobirama. He could accept you with the Senju, and no one would have to know where you were from. Perhaps the Senju were more open-minded. You had seen their women on the battlefield before. You could study medicine and continue your work as an apothecary. Tobirama had always encouraged you. 

No one needed to know. 

You laid back in the shallow water. The river lapped at the back of your ear, soaking your hair and the rest of your robes as you watched the stars. The night had turned dark. The chirp of nocturnal bugs echoed around you to the steady rhythm of the rushing water. 

***

You awoke the next morning with water flooding your nose. You gasped, startled and choking out water as you surveyed your surroundings. Your sinuses burned from the river water as you wiped the wetness from your face. The memories of the night before came back to you all at once. The sun rose to your right, casting a warm glow across your face as you looked again back across the river at Senju territory. 

You didn’t dare cross. 

Instead, you waded into the water to scrub yourself down in the river, the sensation of Madara’s touch lingering. 

*** You waited for Tobirama all day, thinking to yourself as you foraged a nice bundle of herbs between naps. You kept an eye on the bank across the river. Tobirama didn’t come until the evening. He looked a little worse for wear, tired. His already wild hair looked more tousled than it usually did. White bandages adorned his left arm. 

You nearly jumped on him when he made it across to you. You’re sure you hit an injury, a bruise, or two from the slight flinch you felt as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Even so, Tobirama let you wrap yourself around him, holding you close as you clung to him. 

“Things have been so horrible,” you sobbed lightly into his shoulder. He supported you, holding you close as you cried into him. Tobirama laid a soft kiss on your hair.

“Tell me everything.” 

But you couldn’t. You cried harder and he let you. Tobirama scooped up your weeping form, and carried you to the bank to sit. The two of you were out in the open, but your vulnerability was the last thing on your mind. He said nothing as he brushed light touches over your hands and held you until another night came. 

You stared at the folds in his robes in the darkness, running your hands up and down his forearm. You could feel how strong he was. Despite the short time you had been seeing each other, he had grown. 

You found yourself comparing him to Madara. You could picture Madara’s hulking form as clearly as the night in front of you. You knew this armor well, the curve of his weaponry, and the broadness of his shoulders. It all made you wonder how much time you would have if you asked Tobirama to elope with you instead. You ran your touch over his palm. The skin there was soft, unlike the calloused hand of Madara who trained day and night to slaughter Senju. You decided quickly that Tobirama did not stand a chance should you incur Madara’s wrath. 

“I—” It felt like you had never stopped crying. —“I do not think I am able to see you for a while.”

You felt Tobirama perk up in the dimness. He craned his head, shifting you gently in his arms to look at your face. You cast your gaze downward and he did not force you to meet his gaze. 

“What do you mean by this?” he asked, concern lacing his words. You remained silent. He waited patiently for you to respond. You leaned back into him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. 

“Things in my village are… turbulent. Because of the war.” 

You didn’t remember what Tobirama said. 

He didn’t fight you on the decision. Part of you had expected he’d propose that you come join him with the Senju and you were relieved that he hadn’t. Tobirama considered it, but decided that the raids on the Senju would likely be an even more dangerous place for you. 

You said something about finding him again. Tobirama didn’t remember what you said.

He comforted and kissed you, telling you between each one that he would be waiting and would give anything to keep you safe. The words rang hollow as the memory of Madara haunted your mind. Your back lowered gently to the ground as Tobirama continued to hover over you, showering your face with deep kisses and reassurance. 

You told yourself that you would find a way.

***

Tobirama woke the next morning to the rising sun. He picked himself off the rocky gravel, a few small pebbles sticking to his skin as he rose onto his elbow. He stretched his shoulders, hearing an audible crack. Tobirama looked down at your sleeping form, a hand already on your bicep to shake you awake. The two of you had never fallen asleep before.

He spoke your name, shaking you. Tobirama recoiled his hand for a moment to shield his eyes. He observed the placement of the sun in the sky, trying to calculate the time. But when he turned back to you, something caught his eye. 

Laying out on the stone was the end of a single ribbon. He hadn’t recalled seeing it the night before in the dimmness. A few nimble fingers slipped gingerly into your hair and as the ribbon snaked out, so too did the crimson red Uchiha clan crest. 

Tobirama recoiled from you like it were a snake, falling backward onto the river stone. 

The memories came back to him all at once. 

He had seen your face before. He had seen your eyes all those years ago in the clearing of the forest. The kill that got away.

His hand trembled to the holster on his leg, pulling out his grandfather’s prized, Uchiha-killing kunai. 

Your laugh echoed in his mind, the laugh like a fox. He rose to his feet, swiveling to check his surroundings as he approached your sleeping form. 

Yes, he remembered you now. He remembered his promise to carve out your sharingan. He remembered the years of shame he felt in letting you escape and now you were there. You were there, sleeping and vulnerable and as Tobirama held his kunai in his hand, he felt like a child all over again. 

But as he observed your sleeping form, another memory flashed across his mind. The memory of your stare. The fear in your eyes as you stared up at him with your blasted sharingan eyes. He remembered well how you braced yourself to be killed at his hand, splayed out like a pinned butterfly. 

His kunai clattered to the ground.

You bolted up at the noise and Tobirama immediately dropped to his knees to comfort you, kicking the kunai into the river in a moment of pure instinct. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I think I’ve figured out how to wrap this series up in a few chapters. I’ve wanted to keep it short so hopefully we can see an ending soon. It’s a really slow write though! JEEZ! 

Also, I’ve been using “apothecary” to refer to the pharmacy and Reader’s job as an apothecary. The jury is out on whether that’s correct but we’re going to pretend it is! Sorry to any apothecary experts who are irked hahaha

Not to mention Makihara is 100% a last name because I completely forgot he was an Uchiha OOPS

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[lethesbeastie]

Guy who is totally normal about fish tanks

[dragonsareverycool]

A Brothers Reunion

The small summoning circle lit up, casting a soft green glow, as two eyes watched it with weary hope.

——————————————————

Two demons argued violently about a soul, and Danny sighed from his spot on the throne that fully claimed him a month ago. While he still found it hilarious how thoroughly this guy managed to swindle so many of the high ranking demons, it had started to cross into annoying territory. Danny was seriously considering making a whole office dedicated specifically to hold all the paperwork one ‘John Constantine’ was seemingly generating with his very presence. Suddenly, Danny felt a soft tug on his core, much gentler then the summoning rituals of all those crazy cultists that keep popping out of nowhere used. More like the circles he gave to Sam Tucker or Jazz. But he could feel the summoner’s emotions, and the poor guy on the other end felt like he was about to cry.

Danny mentally went through everyone he’s given his personal line to. Then, he shot up and called for Fright Knight to send the demons away while Danny quickly allowed himself to be pulled through the summoning circle to where his brother waited anxiously.

——————————————————

The circle flared, and a large eldrich like figure quickly crawled through. Then, a very familiar voice muttered

“Man I wish these things weren’t so dramatic. I already scared the shit out of the justice league because of it” as the being’s form shifted to the more familiar form he took when seeing Damian for the first time in a decade. His white hair looked a little longer now, and his eyes a less toxic green.

“Danyal” Damian said stiffly. Danny looked up, making eye contact with Damian before responding

“Damian” in response Damian lunged, pressing a blade to Danny’s neck before asking a question only Danny could answer.

“What’s the last story you told me?” Danny simply smiled nostalgically,

“There’s the Damian I know. I told you about Canis Minor 16 days before I died the first time.” Damian heasitated before putting away his weapon and paused before he quickly started to hug Danny, who returned the hug.

“… first time?” Damian asked, still in Danny’s arms.

“Mother didn’t tell you what happened to me after, did she?” Danny asked into his twins hair. Damian didn’t even bother to say anything and just turned his head to look at Danny balefully, before Danny sighed and said

“Of course she didn’t. I was dunked into the Lazarus pits, before mother dropped me off in the middle of nowhere America, where she forbade me from ever talking about my old life or ever attempting to contact you.” Damian paused to process this, before saying

“And the second time?” Danny sighed at that, his face set into a grimace. Damian started to move, bringing Danyal over to his bed, where Danny realized Damian had summoned Danny in his room. Damian sat them both onto his bed, and curled further into Danny’s arms, while gesturing to continue.

“I was adopted by a couple who claimed to be ‘ectobiologists’ who already had an older daughter named Jazz. She’s my sister.” Damian nodded solemnly at that, mentally adding ‘Jazz’ to his list of siblings. Danny pulled out his brick of a phone and started showing Damian pictures of his adoptive parents, his sister and everything else as he spoke about it. “They’d been working on a project in their lab since before they adopted me, longer then they’re had Jazz even. When I was fourteen, they finally tried to turn it on. It failed. It was a portal to what they called ‘The Ghost Zone’, but that realm is much more. The Infinite Realms are the glue that holds all universes together, and its a kind of afterlife. They didn’t know half of that, only that some souls of humans who died stay there, and even then, they thought that these ghosts were only a husk of their former selves, and couldn’t feel pain.” Damian started to connect the dots at that and asked

“You’re one of these ghosts?” It was almost a statement, but Damian wasn’t going to make many assumptions. Danny nodded before continuing

“I had two friends who convinced me to show them the failed portal. I walked inside of the portal we assumed was completely defunct, and I tripped over one of the many wires on the floor. When I tried to stabilize myself, I hit the on button.” Damian’s eyes widened, and he froze while Danny paused. After a moment, Danny continued, saying “My adoptive parents had connected the portal to the towns power grid, and the portal opened up on top of me. Electricity and ectoplasm, what ghosts and the Infinite Realms are made of, clashed inside my body, killing me and reviving me repeatedly until the portal finally spit me back out. I only half died that day.” Danny put his phone away and focused on playing with Damian’s hair. Damian reveled in his brothers affectionate touch like when they were small.

“Half?” Damian asks after a minute or two.

“Half. I technically have several ghost forms, and I have a human form” Damian looked up from Danyal’s arms, his eyes asking the obvious question he was a little afraid to ask, though he’d never admit it. Danny smiled at the unasked question, and rings of light formed around him, before dissipating and revealing a very much alive eighteen year old Danyal Nightingale. He grabbed one of Damian’s hands and pressed it against his neck, allowing Damian to revel in feeling his former dead brother’s pulse. Damian tested Danny’s wrist, and put his ear against Danny’s now warm chest.

Damian will deny the appearance of tears to his death, but Danny didn’t say anything, he just held Damian closer. After a while Danyal started to talk about the stars. Filling the silence with quiet but passionate rambling about stars and space. It was familiar. It was safe and warm and then Richard ruined the moment by slamming open Damian’s door yelling about a ‘Family Game Night’ and got a knife for his troubles. Of course he dodged with practiced ease, but then he realized Damian wasn’t alone in his room. Time seemed to freeze at the stand off. Dick had frozen, as the joy on his face seemed to leach away at the realization that there was an intruder.

[birbmachinee]

hey so .. guess who got back into mob psycho … the second I saw him on screen 2018 flooded back into my brain I HATE HIM!!! MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE!!!!!!! i felt a primal urge to draw him, enjoy or something ❤️

[onaveryislandxx]

Random funny screenshots I got when rewatching the owl house season 3, god I miss this show