#on second thought this is not a drabble

[rexscanonwife]

🌈 Welcome to WLWeek 2024 🌈

Hello everyone, I wanted to put together a nice, low-pressure event dedicated to my fellow wlw self shippers for one week of June because it's pride month, babey!! This is the first time I've ever tried to 'organize' an event, so take it easy on me, I'll try to be as communicative as possible and if anyone has questions about it, asks and DMs are always open!

On to the details! Its gonna last from Monday the 10th through Friday the 14th, and anyone can opt in or out as they see fit! No one is obligated to participate throughout the entire week or from the beginning alone, just do what you feel like!

RULES:

NO PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS/NEUTRAL, all blogs with that will be blocked on sight!

Obviously don't participate if you're not wlw/not shipping with a female character

Lesbians, bisexual, pansexual, sapphic, and once again general wlw/nblw are welcome!

Essentially I am tolerating NO funny business, and I won't tolerate bullying either so everyone be very niceys and hey, try to support each other! 💖💖💖 now onto the prompt list

Monday June 10th: Favorite style/aesthetic-

draw you and your female f/o in your favorite clothing style (goth, Y2K, cottagecore, etc.) Or what you think their favorite style would be! alt. for writers, write a drabble about going shopping for these outfits with your f/o!

Tuesday June 11th: Morning routine -

draw you and your female f/o getting ready for the day. Who's the early riser and who's dragging them back into bed? alt. for writers, write an early morning cuddle session/chat. 

Wednesday June 12th: Date night-

draw you and your female f/o on a date! Is it a dinner, a picnic? Are you guys dressed to the nines or at home in your jammies? Alt. for writers, write a date gone slightly awry. How do you fix things/compromise? 

Thursday June 13th: Beach day-

it's summertime, draw you and your female f/o in beachwear and enjoying the sun and sand! alt. for writers, write out a nice dip in the ocean! Can you swim? Can your f/o? Does one have to teach the other? Is it nice and relaxed or does it dissolve into splash fighting? 

Friday June 14th: Role/Ship Swap -

draw your f/o as the self shipper and you as the fictional character role they fill! What kind of s/i do they make? Would they write fanfic, draw fanart? Alt. for writers, write a gush post from ur f/o's point of view! 

And that's it!! Do one of them, do all of them, or do none of them, it's your choice! I just wanted to show some love to my fellow wlw self shippers out there this month and so something fun for them!

Now if you got this far and you read the rules make sure to put 'great googly moogly' in the tags when u rb! And don't forget to tag my blog here when you write/draw for this event!!! 🫶🫶 everyone who does will get a rb from me and a little promo as well, and maybe even a follow cause I need more wlw mutuals :3

[macaqueconfession]

What if the mc overblots & how.

Ok what if the mc is like a sponge and absorbs the blot magic every time their exposed to it. Like in ch1 when riddle used his unique magic on every one and the mc just absorbed a little magic. It increases as time goes on, and depending on how ch7 ends they just brake.

They can't stand the thought of leaving and running the risk that could forget all about twisted wonderland and all their friends and the adventures they had(they might think it was a dream) they can't leave them. And at first it starts off like an emotional scene where their talking to the people who they spend most of their time with in twst, and then chaos hits the fan. The mc overblots whether it some body horror/a semi regular overblot, the dorm leaders and dorm mates rally together to bring back the mc to their senses and help them like they helped them.

If the game continues after ch7 which I think it will hopefully, they can send the mc home but have it so that they either visit or view the twst boys throw a mirror or something.

[willowser]

i have this image of modern au denji saving you from a terrible date LOL

he works at some high-class restaurant with his tucked shirt and tie—a job that aki got him—waiting tables and occasionally cleaning dishes. and you're there, in a nice dress, on a second date with a man you don't really care for, that is a bit pig-headed about how much money he makes and worries way too much for how people perceive him. he's not bad, but the conversation keeps coming back to him and all his accomplishments and there's little he appreciates about you and suddenly you find yourself excused to use the bathroom.

except you just hide. around the corner, with your back pressed into the wall as you try to summon the motivation to get through the rest of the night. you don't know how you'll do it, really, until this guy is coming out of the kitchen to your left with a tray in his hands and he looks right at you, a little surprised that you're there, and then he smiles and nods. when he returns from dropping off his food, he comes to stand right beside you, leaning against the wall like he's not on the job, and he tells you—

"you look beautiful in that dress."

and you're floored ??? because who even ARE YOU ??? but he's so open and honest 🥺 and even if his face is a lil blushy, he just—says it. no shame. after spending the last hour with a guy you're not sure even remembers your name, it's nice to hear, and he's cute with his pretty, sparkly eyes and crooked smile 🥺

he can tell you're clearly not enjoying yourself, so he just nods to the kitchen at your left. "there's a door to the back, if you wanna ditch."

under normal circumstances, would you bail on your date? no, probably not, wouldn't have the guts, but there's something about this guy and his lil open mouth smile and unabashed goo-goo eyes that has you thinking fuck it. odd that a stranger would give you such a confidence boost, but now you wonder why you're subjecting yourself to some half-ass treatment, why you've been settling for guys like the man at your table.

you can do better than that—probably—and somehow this waiter is reminding you of your worth.

so you do allow him to lead you through the kitchen, and he couldn't care less about his coworkers staring at him, couldn't care less about the strawberry-blonde girl washing dishes that shouts, "denji, get over here and help me!"

you have this brief moment of panic once you get out into the alley that this is a trap you've fallen right into, but he—denji—just stands beside you on the sidewalk, staring down the road like he's watching for a cab.

"i don't—" embarrassingly enough, you're just now noticing how empty-handed you are. "shit, i don't have any of my stuff."

"oh," he shrugs, no problem. "i'll get it, you just find a ride. i don't have a license or else i would—y'know."

it's just so strange, that he's so giving. like he'd go out of his way to help you just because he can. not because he expects any money or for you to sleep with him, he's just—helping because he could. because he thinks you look beautiful in your dress.

he doesn't say anything about your date when he returns, just hands you your phone and jacket and wallet with his same lil smile. and you've got a taxi waiting with the door open and he just stands on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, making sure you get in okay, and the final straw is when he says—

"congrats on your job thing, by the way."

job thing, that you told your date about, who didn't even blink at your good news. wherever he was—denji—whatever table he was helping, and he still heard you.

you keep the cab door open, one foot in and—under normal circumstances, would you do this? probably not, wouldn't have the guts, but he's so—

"hey," you say, leaning against the doorframe with a smile that makes his face redder under the streetlamp. "what time is your shift over?"

and this guy—denji—just grins, already tugging at his tie. "whenever you want it to be."

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

[hg-deranged-edition]

My contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! @akichania YOU ARE NEXT.

(WARNING FOR SUICIDAL IDEATION)

———

He lay across from him, fast asleep at night. Eyes fluttering gently in his sleep, off in a dream Steve would never hear about. Chest rising steadily, breaths deep and even, with the lightest hint of a snore accompanying him. Steve couldn’t help himself, he extended his hand and lightly cupped his cheek, to feel it’s warmth. Hot, as Billy usually was during his slumber.

Ever the light sleeper, Billy’s eyes instantly snapped open, mind lagging behind. When recognition flashed across his face, his eyes softened and his lips curled into the slightest smile. Steve’s heart swelled at the love he found inside them, the vulnerability he found within both assuring and terrifying. Steve knew he couldn’t really help when Billy was in trouble.

Billy murmured a sound that was probably meant to be questioning, and Steve just hushed him, trying to coax him back to sleep. Maybe curl him up into his arms so that Billy couldn’t leave. Billy just grasped his hand and held onto it, terribly, terribly gentle. Affection Steve didn’t quite deserve or earn.

With great effort, Billy’s tired mind managed to collect enough coherence to ask “’Was wrong?” and Steve cursed himself for not being able to get himself together enough to save face in front of Billy.

He hadn’t been sleeping.

Couldn’t, really.

“I’m just,” he began, “I don’t. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just kinda upset.” Billy’s hand tightened ever so slightly, brow twitching together in worry. He was quiet for a moment before muttering “You’re not ‘just upset.’ You never are.” he paused, looking deeply into his eyes, and Steve found it horrible that Billy knew him so intimately when he didn’t deserve someone so… well, whatever Steven is.

Incapable. Is probably the word he’s looking for.

“You don’t gotta tell me,” Billy began anew, “but you have to know I care, right? So like, I can listen to you, even if it doesn’t make sense, and only you know what you’re talkin’ about. Gotta repay the favor and everything, right?” Steve nodded, not quite trusting himself to talk. He found the way Billy looked at him unbearable; so imploring and kind. Defenceless. It’s a beauty that suited his face, really. Billy laid their hands betwixt them on the mattress, and Steve felt a lump form in his throat.

He wanted to get closer so bad. He wasn’t quite sure he could do that without crumbling.

Despite himself, Steve felt himself speak.

“I. I’m just, I’m so sorry, fuck, Billy. I’m fuckin- dumb as shit, slow and I can’t even see what’s right in front of me, and I can’t even take care of myself.”

Billy’s face saddened, and he crawled closer to Steve. “Steven. Steve no, don’t say that, baby. You know you’re not stupid, we’ve talked about this before.” Steve hiccuped at that, and his first tear fell. “No, no I’m just. I can’t help but feel it. Dad’s right, I’m fuckin stupid as shit, I can’t do shit and I can’t even get college. I don’t understand things even if they’re repeated to me a thousand times and I- I can’t even-” at that, Billy just smushed Steve’s face into his chest, and held onto him tightly. “I don’t know what you’re on about. Your dads the dumbass, not you. It’s not your fault the man can’t explain things right and then gets mad at you for his own mistakes.” Billy pressed a kiss atop his head.

Steve just weeped at that, because Billy didn’t understand. Steve’s failure was Billy.

He completely, and utterly, failed him. Didn’t recognize that Billy needed help until it was far too late- his body having received permanent damage already and only awaiting it’s final blow. He should have noticed- should have realized that something was wrong, not clutched on so tightly to his and Nancy’s joke of a relationship. Should have gotten his head out of his ass and seen the reality in front him instead of being so damn hung up.

Because Billy was dead now. And Steve would never get him back, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he turned the past over in his mind.

Billy was still shushing him, arms crushing him as he only wailed harder. Couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself from crying, either, judging by the wetness seeping into Steve’s hair.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, “baby, why are you acting this way?” His hand was petting through Steve’s hair, a thousand gentle, repeated kisses gifted like they could ease the hurt away. Steve’s head hurt from crying, the sheer force of his sobs giving him vertigo. The last time he cried that hard was a week into the future, and for this past body, it was when he was 9 years old and begging his parents to stay back home.

Eventually, Steve managed to calm back down. Belatedly he noticed that Billy had been patting his back and murmuring a lullaby. One he realized was probably among the last few remnants of his mother’s love. “Thank you,” he muttered, “for everything.” His throat was hoarse. Billy just kept singing with a slightly pained look on his face. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

---

When Billy’s breaths evened out and his arms loosened, Steve opened his eyes again listlessly. And did nothing. For hours.

He was tired. So fucking tired. From crying, from watching but too afraid to really touch. He was promised an eternity with his love. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

---

He felt himself begin to slip away, eyes unfocusing through their drought. He’d probably wake up again in a moment, beholding a sleeping Billy from the start all over again. Maybe he’d be too exhausted to keep up any facade of humanity, maybe Billy would curl into him and he’d shatter all over again. Maybe he’d just observe. Silent.

In the beginning, he’d really thought he only wanted this, this last moment with Billy, for all eternity. Now he understands that this stagnant memory was never what he truly wanted from Billy. Sure, he’d wanted one last embrace with the love of his life, not for closure, though. No, never for closure. The mere thought of it repulsed him.

No, he wanted to continue on with Billy. He’d only made a pathetic display of humility, a request born from fallacy. He wanted to wake up together, light streaming from the curtains, feel the warmth of morning. Wanted to get up and bake and make coffee and crack shitty jokes with the guy. Wanted to tangle his hand in his hair and feel disgust when it came back greasy. Wanted to live a life with the fucker.

This wasn’t a life shared together. It was anything but. It was a mockery of their love, the epitome of their shared fatal flaw. It was Billy desparate for Steve to open up, to tell him what’s wrong, and Steve’s throat closing up, locking down. It was Steve getting exhausted from asking where Billy got all his bruises from, only to be met with aggression. It was Billy being on the verge of crying when Steve still held onto the agony from his last relationship and couldn’t focus on Billy’s love.

And, a few days into the future, it would be Steve not recognizing that Billy was acting wrong. That his cold demeanor was caused by more than just a petty argument.

This, this situation, was sleeping with a cooling corpse. Getting lulled back into sleep every time panic ripped through his central nervous system. Being mocked with the face of his lover caring for him, when his own care wasn’t sufficient enough. By god, he should have picked Billy up long ago, thrown him onto the backseat and driven far, far away from here. To hell with everyone else.

But it was too late now, sin rooted too deep into his foundations. This was all he had left.

He sunk his fingers deeper into Billy’s, lashes fluttering lethargically. He should be grateful. Death doesn’t feel so permanent when the star of the funeral was right next to him. Most people yearned for this moment right here, no matter how grotesque.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be dead.

Feeling Billy’s pulse thudding against his skin, Steve sunk back into sleep, hoping to dream of tomorrow before he woke up again.

[azurexsnake]

Hnnnng…

Thinking thoughts about making love to Vash again. Gentle strokes of your cock rocking in and out of him. There’s no reason to hurry. No need to rush through your intimacy with him. Just savoring the feeling between you both and hushed conversation. Quiet compliments and praise. Secrets shared to stay just between you of love and pleasure. How adorably his face scrunches when you hit a good spot inside him. How much he likes being caged in by your arms on both sides of him. There’s so much safety between you, so much trust. And you just lazily keep moving the whole time, mindlessly pushing in til your hips meet the backs of his thighs, and pulling out until only a little more than your tip remains in him. This constant loop of slow pleasure that only builds when you start teasing him, carefully feigning the threat of slipping from the warmth of his body so he whines in a panic. And you can kiss his fears away as you steadily push back in, only stopping when you’re seated to the hilt, hitting the deepest depths of him, and making him feel so full of you. So full of love as you move to hold his legs open with him, your tongues dancing around each other’s just for him to whine into your mouth when you spread him further in an attempt to get closer. Reach parts of him only you know that make his arms fling around your back as he shudders. And suddenly you’re forehead-to-forehead and every thrust has purpose. Intent put behind every roll of your body to make sparks fly in his vision for you to see as you look into his eyes, bluer than blue and brighter than the stars. But you know your angel and the magnetic pull that has his brain fizzling, abandoning the want for depth over the need for closeness as he pulls your body flush to his. You dutifully pick up your pace to make up for it anyway, letting his legs fall to wrap around your waist so you can hold him in your arms as he shakes, one arm around his back, and the other cradling his head into the crook of your neck. He pants so hard, dampening your skin with more than just your combined sweat and, honestly, he loves it. Loves the tacky feeling gluing you together. The resistance it provides when your hips leave his skin because, if he had his way, he’d stay like this forever. Loving and being loved for an eternity. He doesn’t care for cumming, reaching the heights of pleasure, though you’d doubtless take him there regardless. But, for him, he just wants to feel you forever, until you both wither into nothingness within the cosmos. If he could just be showered in your love, and shower you in return on this plateaux, he’d be happy with that.

[oikasugayama]

maybe some domestic fluff w/ aku like lazy mornings together? making tea/coffee, cuddling, him not letting you get out of bed🤭 hope you feel better lovely, the laundry detergent is literally foul bruh WHO DOES THAT :(((

I feel like Akutagawa is so soft and sweet in the morning. No one can be all tough and scary right after they wake up, you know??? one of my favorite posts that i think about literally every day is "humans are not meant to wake up and jump straight out of bed, they're meant to stretch and wiggle and hit snooze" and i quite literally live by that

akutagawa is all tired eyes and messy hair, and he's prob just in a black t-shirt and shorts or his underwear or something. he might have sleep lines on his face from where his arm or his pillow was mashed into his cheek for hours.

the sun shining in the room from the open curtains would make him look so soft and fuzzy (in that way the sun kinda blurs your vision sometimes yanno?)

you could probably reach over and play with the ends of his hair really gently or push his hair out of his face and pulls the blankets up over his shoulder to tuck him in a little more, and he probably wouldn't react because even subconsciously he knows he's safe, he knows he's with you. in the past or if he was alone he would jump at any little touch, but on a nice coy soft morning he's still and he sleeps deeply which he doesnt usually do

when he does finally wake up--probably at the feeling of the bed moving as you try to get up sneakily--his arms instinctively reach out for you. the first thing he wants to do in the morning is make sure his love is still there, still safe, still with him, so even before his eyes are open, even before he's processed any noises or movements, even before he's stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked what time it is, he's reaching for you.

when he realizes that you're trying to get up he makes an incoherent noise, some type of grumble as he tries to take his voice up, just some sort of noise to let you know that he's displeased. no, don't get up, he's basically saying. stay with me. lay back down.

you usually relent. it's a game, kind of, trying to get up without waking him up. you'd feel accomplished if you could do it, but you'd also miss the feeling of him reaching for you. you've never actually managed to get all the way up without him waking up. the final loss of your weight on the bed always wakes him, and his arms or his hands always manage to find you before you can fully get away.

sometimes you think he's fallen back asleep as you're laying there, wrapped up in his warm arms, waiting for him to open his eyes. he always denies it when you ask, though, the first crackles of his voice tumbling out defensively. "i am awake, if only barely"

"shall i make us some morning tea?"

"five more minutes."

and you always oblige him, always without fail you lay together, him counting seconds off in his head until he has to force himself to let go of this single piece of peace that he gets in his hectic life, and you relishing in being held, in holding, in being warm and loved and calm and good

[rosedom]

OH MY FICKGING GOD I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED SMTH THEN DELETED IT COS I WAS LIKE OH SHIT OH FUCK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I'M GOING TO SOB . it was a long thought by 💡 anon too ,, i feel awful oh my god. in that split second i got a screenshot of only part of my response . i am distraught rn.

[neoncherryblossom]

You Hide Your Face Behind a Mask (that no one else can see) 

Living with Darius and Eberwolf, Hunter realized there is a lot about them he doesn’t know about. 

And not just things he wouldn’t know about them because he wasn’t close. They were so many parts of them they kept hidden from the Coven itself, Hunter wonders if they forgot how to be themselves. 

He knows you have to sacrifice a lot to be in the Emperor’s Coven. And even if they weren’t members, they lived in the Castle and Hunter was learning exactly how much of a person that stole. 

Hunter looked up to the Coven Heads. They were the best of the best, the strongest and most worthy of their position. But outside that role, he never actually knew all too much about them. Hunter’s only beginning to realize he’s only ever known the masks of his guardians before, that he only knows what they let him know. 

Darius projected confidence and held high standards of those around him, his iconic abomination hair and cape billowing behind proving how much better he was than anyone else. Hunter thinks he’s only ever seen the man scowl or smile smugly, never anything in between. And Eberwolf… he somehow knew even less about the demon. He knew Eber was powerful, he’s seen Eberwolf’s beast form and knows that he passionately cares about the beasts on the Isles, but that’s about it. Eberwolf would always have that same smile as he stood by the others, silent and unmovable.

He wonders how long it took the both of them to develop those masks. Too fit into a role and stick with it for years. 

One of a man, so powerful no one could touch him.

One of a demon, a permanent smile replacing most words. 

They reminded him of the Golden Guard outfit.  How the mask fit snugly and the cape stood proudly, but still somehow made him uncomfortable those first few times; as if the clothes themselves didn’t truly feel like they were his. How wearing that mask sealed Hunter away to be everything his uncle wanted from him.

(To be the only thing his uncle wanted from him.)

But without that mask on, he was quick to become Hunter. Without that familiar weight, it was easy for him to just be. 

Hunter was just a nephew. 

Hunter wasn’t special. 

And now, Hunter was free of ever wearing that mask again. 

He wished he could free Darius and Eber from theirs too. 

Because even if they were out of the Coven, even if Darius and Eberwolf had no one they needed to hide from, Hunter knew they still wore the masks that got them through the Emperor’s castle. 

Eberwolf is quick to clam up when someone approaches them, keeping a smile while Darius answered. 

Darius was still quick to condescend others, even if he meant no malice towards them.

And even though Eberwolf is frequently on Darius’ shoulder, even when they can, they don’t talk to each other much if others are around. They do around the CATTS and they do around him, but then they just… stop when anyone else enters. 

It’s as if they don’t trust anyone to know they’re close. 

It’s as if they don’t trust anyone to know them. 

He thinks it was several weeks after he started living with them did he realize he’d never heard them truly laugh before. 

And he didn’t remember how it started, but they were all in the kitchen together one day and then they were all laughing and laughing hard.  

When Darius laughs, he hugs his side and covers his nose as he snorts, bowing his head as he wheezes. And Eberwolf just tosses his head back, revealing his teeth and two fangs Hunter never knew were there, one in the upper right corner and one on the bottom left, his very being shaking as he cackles. And Hunter couldn’t help but laugh louder too, the odd whistling behind his laugh growing louder because it can and no one will tell him to stop or that he’s being weird, he can just be. 

Hunter doesn’t know all too much about Darius and Eber all things considered. But as he watched them regain their breaths and wheeze, easy genuine smiles on their face as they teased each other, Hunter knew that he couldn’t wait to get to know the witches under the mask and help them shed them, once and for all. 

[m340700]

HELLO

okay firstly THANK YOU FOR READING MY SILLY FICS!!! im v v glad u liked them!! that fic in particular that u rbed there is one of my favs personally LMAO creepy sun is so >>>> and secondly.. on my MHA BLOG? MY BAKUGOU WORSHIP BLOG????? ngl i did see u in my notifs over there when i saw ur tags LOL when i tell u i went O.O LMAOOOO. hope u liked them!! some of those r... old writings aldasdlakd. but!! anyways!! hope ur having a wonderful day!! stay swagilicious<3

HI SHAY!! ur silly fics r good argh i bear gifts

i like the way you write them i think the silly dynamics are great !! humans are so vulnerable and you tease the daycare attendant are my favs they did something to my brain actually. and yes you are correct creepy sun >>>>>> your works are nice please have some nice flowers for ur day

[macaqueconfession]

I wanted to elaborate on the seamoon cures.

As mention in the last post i did on this. In the mc/yuus world has a story about the sea and moon's forbidden love. And in their world this story is very popular, and used in every movie,book, show, ect. It's mostly superstition, and only a few believe in the the story. Those who do see it like the zodiac signs. If a person was born during a day the sea was more active their associated with the sea or if the moon was full or eclipsing or anything there associated with the moon and so on.

Anyways, The yuu would like to believe that the moon and sea found a way to see each other and be with each other. The yuu is a helpless romantic, so to their surprise the person who they like so happens to reciprocate their feelings and agree to date. Until they have to go home, mc promises to find a way to visit them when they leave. Unfortunately nothing comes up the mirror can't make a portal back to twisted wonderland for some reason they can't. They tried using their worlds version of magic and rituals and nothing, nothing worked, their partner hasn't contacted them.

Their partner has been trying to contact them but the magic mirror isn't complying, until they figure out that twisted wonderland works under different natural rules and those who brake will be punished. Something yuu didn't know.

Before the yuu left their partner gifted them a magical gift(really anything a flower, gem, trinkets, ect), so the yuu makes the ultimate sacrifice. They use the gift their partner gave them to go to twisted wonderland, and they make it.

Only to wind up frozen in place where ever they found themselves in(the school or the dormitories,ect) when their partner finds out what happened they obviously wants to help them and free them, but are stopped or unable to break the spell. The reason why yuu was cursed the first time was because someone summoned them here, she forced the magic mirror to bring them back and the world's rules and punished for their crime. Who knows mabey someday the curse will lift.

[universestreasures]

A Dragon's Reservations (Drabble)

Extension / Spinoff Of This Thread With @shachou

"Thanks for helping tuck me in, Tasuku." The youngest Kaiba speaks, offering the other a weak but genuine smile of thankfulness. Even if his friend's efforts were not quite to his preferences (they were a bit too tight), Mokuba still appreciated the effort. "I...I was never quite good at it. I've always had...help with it."

"You're welcome." Tasuku reacts with smile of his own, a hand gripping the door's knob as he slowly began to close it. "Rest well and good night, Mokuba. If you need anything, don't be afraid to call for us. We'll be right there with you."

Yet again, that reminder is given. It's something that Tasuku's made a point to say over the past few weeks his friend's been here. The purpose of it was to sway any doubts the boy had that he was a 'burden' and encourage him to seek help if (or rather inevitably, considering his frequent night terrors) he needed it. After all, he's heard Mokuba beat himself up needlessly enough since his arrival over the idea of being a 'burden', a sight that made his blood boil as much as it made his heart ache because he knew exactly where such things seemed from.

Or rather...he knew exactly from who they stemmed, the very person whose mistakes continued to cause pain to the one he was supposed to protect and cherish, his only remaining family who cherished him despite the blood on his hands and his many sins...

Kaiba Seto.

Upon closing the door to his bedroom that he was letting Mokuba borrow, he moves to go outside. Fresh air was key in helping him calm himself when he could feel himself getting tense, such tension coming from the anger that was practically waiting to rise from his chest. He goes to the roof of his apartment, stopping to look up at the serenity of the beautiful stars and crescent moon as he breathes in and out slowly. Looking at them, especially the moon, always made him feel calmer for some reason, the lights in the darkness that seemed to always surround him in one way or another.

Sadly, they did little to help this time. The more he sat and looked at them, the more the grip of his negative emotions, his anger, his rage, take hold on his heart and mind. Tasuku promised himself he wouldn't show that side of him in front of his friend, for that would just make things worse, but that meant that the effects of all that repressing he had been doing were taking hold now, with those very repressed feelings bubbling back up to the surface that can be visibly seen by the shaking of a clenched fist.

One might think such feelings of intense disdain for someone you've never met before were unbelievable. Despite being friends with Mokuba for about a year now, he's actually never once met his brother directly. Though, that doesn't mean he hasn't ever seen the CEO in person, or more specifically, hasn't ever seen his direct actions and the effect they have on his younger brother.

Even now as he stood there on the roof, his memories of that day were vivid, replaying in his mind like a perfect video recording. It was a key day in his memory, but not for a good reason. For it was the very day he saw Kaiba Seto's ugliness and cruel heart slowly reveal itself, with innocents, including his own kin, being at the mercy of his cruel and twisted 'games'.

--------------------

After several long weeks of searching, he managed to get his hands on what he had been looking for. It was an invitation to the hottest and most exclusive gaming event Domino had seen yet: the opening ceremonies of Kaiba Land, the first theme park of its kind in Japan, hosted by the Kaiba Corporation. Though, it wasn't his joy of games that brought him to seek out an invitation. Instead it was, of course, his work, something that always took precedence even over his own desires. Yes he had been tasked by Commander I to investigate the event that had been surrounded in many rumors that were of interest to the Buddy Police, specifically ones that may pertain to dangerous games having been secretly built in a place meant for children.

Why was he doing this mission solo? Simple. All of the invited guests to the event were children and only children. No adults who were not employees were permitted in. So, Tasuku had no choice but to go it alone, something he was honestly okay with. Him being on his own, while certainly increased the risk, made him able to do his job much easier. Plus, it would help him maintain his cover, considering he was entering this under a different identity.

Thankfully, he managed to cling to the large crowd of kids who rushed into the facility as soon as it opened after having shown his invitation. Being lost in a crowd made him a lot harder to track, ruby hues eying all the suited security men around the facility. If he was to make any moves, he needs to be careful. While he does have Jack as an ultimate last resort to aid him, the last thing either of them wants is to reveal the dragon's existence needlessly. Doing so could cause a disaster with unforeseen consequences.

So, he opted for the strategy to search the facility from top to bottom while everyone was seemingly busy with the opening ceremony. He went from facility to facility to test out each and every game for any potential signs of danger. Much to his surprise and relief, none of the games he looked at had anything out of the ordinary with them in terms of potential hazards. The closest thing was the realism of the regular virtual reality simulator, but there seemed to be some warnings associated with it, at least.

Were the rumors just rumors after all? Tasuku can't be sure. These areas were publically accessible. If there were illegal, dangerous tech, surely they wouldn't put it out in the open. That's when he remembers he has yet to enter the tower where the opening ceremony had been taking place. Could that be where it was?

With a swift turn, he exits the arcade area he had examined and goes towards the tower instead. Apparently, the action was now on the fourth floor, as indicated by a screen outside the stairwell that now displayed 'Death T 4' in progress'. Just the name 'Death T' was enough to set off his instincts that this is what he was looking for, and after taking a moment to climb up the stairs and enter the stands, his suspicions were proven correct almost immediately.

For what he bore witness to was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, a display that would forever be burned into his heart and ignite his righteous green flames of justice.

Tasuku's eyes scanned over the stadium that was erupting in shock, all seemingly focused on the live image of Kaiba Seto, the CEO of Kaiba Corporation. The Buddy Police Boy Wonder was fully aware of who he was due to his reputation in the gaming world. There were some who said he'd never lost a game before in his life. There were also some who said he was responsible for the death of the previous CEO, Kaiba Gozaboru, a rumor no one could verify the truth of.

"I've been waiting for you, Yugi! Good job. I've gotten bored of these amusements."

"Amusements?"

"Take that path to the elevator and rise to the final stage!"

"I will! Don't you go anywhere! You'll get your game all right, Kaiba!"

That's when Tasuku takes a look around the rest of the space, noticing the colossal fight box in the middle. There he sees a taller boy outside of it (who he presumed was this 'Yugi' Kaiba referred to) and a small child on the inside. Judging by it, it seems the younger of the two had just been defeated in a game of some kind, seemingly an obstacle in Yugi's path to advancement.

But...that wasn't just any child in there. That was...

"Kaiba Mokuba, the Capsule Monsters Chess champion...And the very same person Lady Suzuha mentioned she lost contact with six months ago..."

It was one of those things the heiress mentioned to him during one of their recent encounters. She mentioned that if he ever ran into him, as such a thing might happen due to his line of work, to give her an update on his condition. Thank goodness an innocent like her wasn't here to witness this (little did he know such a thing was intentional on the younger Kaiba's part).

"I've felt your pathetic, clinging, loser's gaze...staring at my back for years...I kept telling you and over over, Mokuba...If you play with fire you'll get burned..."

Even though he can't hear Mokuba's reaction due to the box not being mic'd, Tasuku can just see and feel the fear from what his brother said. He knew nothing about the brother's relationship, but that didn't matter to him. As someone who had a very strong sense of family, he very much despised any mistreatment of a family member, blood or otherwise. Just seeing this cruelty got his blood boiling, but it truly exploded in fury at what would come next.

"You understand, don't you? Only the winner is allowed out of that duel box!" A button is pressed, one that seems to activate some kind of 'smoke' inside the enclosed space in which Mokuba was trapped. "A Penalty Game awaits the loser!! That is the Law of 'Death T'!!"

"A Penalty Game?!" The phrase echoes in his mind as his body is paralyzed as the display unfolds. Virtual projections more realistic than those he saw on the simulator came to life and caused the one trapped inside to scream and cower in absolute terror for his life. "This...This must be what our lead was about! If this was the fourth stage, then that means there must have been more of these dangerous games and punishments on the earlier 'Death T' stages!"

He could feel his body temperature rising and his breath heavying as he watched the torture go on, the sight triggering what appeared to be a panic attack. He normally made a point to try hold himself together while on a job, to steel himself so it wouldn't hold him back but...nothing could have prepared him for what he he was looking at. Seeing Kaiba Mokuba defenseless and calling out for help (presumably for his brother) reminds him of his own experiences when he was stranded on that mountain shortly after the Disaster, calling out for his family to save him and bring him home.

If Jack hadn't come to save him that day, he surely would have perished...just like Kaiba Mokuba might if no one comes to save him from his brother's cruel act...

Realizing that fact causes him to try and take action despite his physical symptoms. Anything was better than doing nothing. He ran through the bleachers, shoving past everyone to try and reach the bottom. With his physical prowess, he just might be able to jump off the bottom and reach the center platform. However, he stops at the edge as soon as the voice of someone else rings through, filled with heroic courage.

"Mokuba!!! Mokuba...take my hand!!"

And there the Buddyfighter bears witness to Yugi, a victim in this entire messed-up creation of the CEO of Kaiba Corporation, go in and drag Kaiba Mokuba out, saving his life and sanity in the process. A wave of relief washes through Tasuku at the sight of the two outside the chamber, his heart still racing through his chest. That demonstration right there gave the officer a large amount of respect for the gamer, who saved his opponent from the penalty of his loss of the game between them. That show of sportsmanship and kindness wasn't often seen in situations such as these with high stakes. Muto Yugi is someone he'll personally have to keep his eye on for certain.

As the amethyst-eyed gamer leaves for his fated battle on the next floor, Tasuku shifts his attention back to the robed boy kneeling on the ground, shaking and sobbing after having experienced such a horrific thing at his brother's hands. Watching him in that state causes his hands to curl into fists at his sides, his body now shaking not in panic but instead in sheer anger that was akin to a dragon's as he bores his fangs behind gritted teeth.

"Kaiba Seto...To think you would stoop so low as to bring harm to your own family...And turn games that are supposed to bring people together in friendly competition and fun into nothing more than death traps..."

"I'll never forgive you for this..."

"I'll never forgive you!!!!!"

--------------------

Those words of anger, the ones that echoed his feelings that still remain today, are the last he hears before he is brought back to the present by the golden light of a Buddyfight card. Jack manifests from his pocket before the boy in his mini form, the dragon's golden eyes showing deep concern. Seems he felt the rage in Tasuku's heart too as the officer was spilling it out in waves after having been buried for so long.

"Jack...I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm doing fi-"

"Tasuku, you don't need to hide what you're feeling from me." The dragon cuts the boy off, his words stopping Tasuku's completely. "We're not just buddies, remember? We're family. The day you took me in and accepted me as a part of your own family, your loads became my loads; ones I share with you gladly. So please, please tell me what is on your mind. Although, I have an idea as to what or rather...who it might be."

A sigh escapes the boy's lips. For he knew well there was no arguing when it came to his only remaining family. Deep down, he knew how unhealthy it was to keep these feelings of his bottled up so tightly, wisdom he's given to others in the past to not do. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't follow his own advice.

"I just...I just can't...I just can't get over the anger I feel when I think about what he's done..."He is clenching his fist now, trying to stabilize himself as he speaks his heart to his most trusted ally. "I don't care if he had a rough past, like Mokuba's said over and over. I don't care if Mokuba forgave him, wanting to try to move forward. No one...No one has the right to emotionally, physically, and psychologically damage their own brother, who did nothing but try to make him happy..."

Everything Mokuba did back then during the time of his separation from Lady Suzuha, all of it had been for the sake of his brother, who ignored and rejected him. He thought that there was no other way to get even an ounce of the happiness and love he once knew unless he also stained his hands. The fact he thought he even had to do such a thing just made Tasuku even more furious. How could anyone be so cruel?

"Then, after it was claimed that he had changed and presumably learned from his past sins, he yells at his brother so harshly and with such animosity to the point of Mokuba running away from home! And for what? Just expressing how he was feeling, like any normal person does? That's not even to mention what he's put so many others through for the sake of his own selfish reasons..."

He has yet to forget about both 'events' Kaiba hosted, 'Death-T' and Battle City, and how they both endangered the lives of innocent multiple times. He's put people into death games. He's kidnapped, lied, and stolen. He's created a trap for dangerous criminals in the form of a tournament that made the entire city a battlefield, without even consulting the Buddy Police. Need he say more?

"Your feelings towards him are understandable, Tasuku. I do not disagree with them. Kaiba Seto has committed actions that are unforgivable. However..." He pauses for a moment, flying over so his golden eyes are looking directly into Tasuku's rubies. "I do think, considering the boy's worsening condition, it might be time to consider a change in our approach to aid him."

"You're talking about what Gao suggested earlier today, aren't you?" He asked, Jack nodding his head in response.

"I understand your reservations about the idea, but...our top priority is to help your friend recover from the nightmares and fear that plague his heart and mind. And if we cannot do so effectively, then we must get the aid of the one who cares for-"

"If he really cared about his brother's well-being, don't you think he would have been here by now to see him?" His words cut off the dragon's, Tasuku's fist continuing to be curled tightly. "Even if he thought he'd be of no help or potentially make things worse, doing something is better than doing nothing at all. And no, sending one of his employees to spy on Mokuba does not count. That's not what Mokuba wants or needs."

"So...you do agree with the notion that the boy needs his brother to truly get through this, then?"

"Yes. We can only do so much without getting to the root of the problem directly."

"Then why did you tell Gao that you disagreed with the idea to begin with?"

"I told Gao that I disagreed with the idea of one of us bringing Kaiba Seto here. I never said I opposed him coming here on his own." Honestly, if he had, this might had been resolved already. "There's a difference between giving someone space and just not taking action. He's clearly staying away because he knows he's the problem, but by doing so, he's not taking responsibility or taking action to try and resolve this. And because of that, Mokuba is now too afraid to even try to contact him, leading to his anxieties and nightmares worsening."

Considering his past experiences, such a reaction from the boy wasn't surprising. He's gotten yelled at for expressing himself before. It only made sense he'd be afraid to do so again, especially after his own actions of running away from his home.

"He needs to be ready and willing to have a true conversation in order to resolve this, not just one to pacify Mokuba and sweep the issue under the rug. That will just make things worse for them both in the future."

This tactic, he suspects, was probably used in the past, considering how both seemingly moved on from the 'Death T' incident so quickly despite its intensity and lingering aftereffects. After all, Tasuku has no doubt Mokuba's recurring nightmares and PTSD symptoms are a consequence of that day. He's heard him almost confirm it himself in what he's mumbled while tossing and turning in his sleep.

"However, to prepare himself accordingly for that, he has his own demons he needs to battle within his heart, just like Mokuba's been doing since he got here. Until he can steal his resolve, win that internal struggle, and come to his own answer that he is ready and willing to share, then it's best he stay far, far away from here. I refuse to have Mokuba suffer any more than he has already..."

"Tasuku..."

Tasuku then moves exists the rooftop to return back inside the apartment, with Jack following suit. After entering the space, he moves to check his friend's phone he had left on the counter to charge. He then picks it up, ruby hues now staring in the face of a photograph of the two brothers that had been made the wallpaper, one of the pair at the construction site for Kaiba Land USA.

"What Mokuba really needs is that big brother he talks so highly of, not a selfish coward who can't own up to his own mistakes or talk things out without resorting to shouting like a child." The internal thought is accompanied by him placing the device down, a hand moving to cross over his heart as he makes yet another silent oath to himself. "And until Kaiba Seto can get his act together and become that person again, it's up to me to fill in that role as best I can in his stead, no matter how long it takes..."

[willowser]

oh, to be a little witch of the woods 🦋✨️ with a garden of nightshade and moonflower and henbane 🌿🌺 a cluttered hut with tomes and oddly-shapen vials of glittering potions and ghastly elixirs ⚗️🕯 nestled secretly in the midst of the forest, between an ancient god-tree and a snaking river 🌙🔮

until !! a little wild boy tries to steal from your fish trap !! and has the nerve to threaten you !!

"i'm not a boy!" he warbles, all impish and stubborn. in his hands is a cherry-stained bow, small and fit for him, carved with runes that read foreign. "i'm a dragon!"

"oh, yes, of course," you muse, suppressing a wicked grin at the untamed of sight of his blonde hair as he huffs it out of his baby-face. "how could i overlook your long and scaly tail or your forked tongue?" when you hiss, his nose scrunches up, surrendering a giggle. "tell me, little drake, what exactly are you going to be killing me for?"

the confidence in his big, brown eyes falters and they dart away, down to the overgrown herb garden near your feet. silence trickles by as his shoulders rise, shy suddenly.

"is this your home? or your fish?" you're answered by the drop of his hands, bowstring going lax as he frowns at the grass; a scolded little beast. "ah ha, i didn't think so." dirt clings to his round, pink cheeks, and you lean close enough to swipe it away, turning his chin up. "though it would seem i have no choice but to offer something else in exchange for the safety of my trout."

you're bestowed a toothy smile.

without fear, the little drake stomps into your home, beastly with his manners as he begins to peer into jars and poke at your literature. dust makes him sneeze when he wanders too close to your bookshelf, and he wipes his nose on the front of his tunic.

"come, come, hatchling," you wave a still-warm loaf of bread around like a jewel, beckoning him away from the prick of your thorned roses. "i hope you'll find sweet apple jam a suitable replacement."

his blonde eyebrows shoot up, sitting on his knees at your small round table. precariously, he leans over flickering candles and fares too close to a bubbling cauldron, attention stuck to the green jar you pull from the cupboard; a clumsy little boy, in all manner of the term.

near drooling as you slather down two thick slices of oat bread, digging into them without so much as a thanks as you give him — and his forthcoming mess — all the space he should need. out of reach, you make quick work of stowing away spells that eyes as young as his should never see.

"does your mother know where you are, little drake?"

he gives a small shrug and wipes the back of one hand across his messy face, jelly sticking between his little fingers. "she's gone."

your attention is his instantly, watching from across the hut as a chill runs down your spine; so nonchalant, for such a revelation. "and where has she gone?"

"i don't know," big brown eyes drift to the crows that chatter in your window, watching them as his grip tightens on his delight. "father says she and my sister were taken by bad men."

despite his initial approach, you realize then just how kind he looks: chubby cheeks and a round face, slow-blinking lids and a wild mess of silky, ashen hair. small, for how intelligent he seems, and too trusting.

this would not be the first time you've known such heart-wrenching news, but still — yours breaks for him.

the war still rages to the north, though it hasn't touched this realm in years; regardless, greed among men poisons all, an illness that festers and spreads as spores on a summer wind. there's a very good chance a boy as young as he never even knew his missing family, and, quietly, you thank your gods for such a mercy.

you clear your throat of its itch. "and where is your father, then?"

the little drake pauses, biting at his lip as he thinks — before taking another massive chomp. "at home."

one parent, at least, that hopefully has been strong enough for the both of them, though you doubt the little boy's presence in your home is doing well on a poor father's nerves. a treasure is what you've found in the heart of these woods, one you must return.

"come then," you sink a hand into his tousled hair, which earns you a frightful little glare. "you've been away long enough."

whatever directionless path brought him to your neck of the woods is as clear as day, little feet obvious in their trample of weeds and broken branches. the little drake leads, unafraid and talking loud of all the goblins he's killed in your forest, how good he is with his bow and the tiny knife he keeps strapped to his quiver.

you don't mention the barrier you've set up, to keep the evil in its place, and instead listen to the wild flames of his imagination. it's amusing, at least, and reveals him in slow, secret ways; it's clear the measure of strength he's set is in the shape of his father, and that he thinks being able to defend oneself is the highest skill one can have. they're important things, good things, and you tell him so — but you can smell the fear bleeding through.

it paints a small picture of the man rearing him, one that must be desperate not to lose what little he has left. you think of your own grief and your stomach churns, eager to return him to safety.

"shall we take a shortcut?" at the edge of the river, you pause, calling on thick roots to curl up from under their trees and span across the the rushing water. they creak as they grow, unending, bringing about new sprouts of life as they bend to your will.

"woah!" the wild boy shouts, jumping up and down in place before darting forward. you hardly catch him by the back of his tunic, holding him in place as the bridge evens out. "how did you do that?"

"should you live to see your sixteenth year, i will show you!" you snap, frowning down at his impatience. his cheeks pink, offering small apologies as he vows to stick by your side.

still leading, though he's true to his word and dares not to run ahead any further. the only time his impatience sparks anew is when a cottage breaks your line of sight, surrounded, too, by a swath of thick trees. glee marks his face and you return it in full force, allowing him to take you by the arm as he starts to shout out for his father.

—but at the feel of eyes on the back of your neck, you freeze, hands going up in surrender as a sharp tang of fear sours in your mouth; it's been a long time since anyone has gotten the jump on you. "daddy drake, i presume?"

"huh?" the little boy turns to make a silly face at you, mouth wide open like you've just spoken a foreign language — but the looming beast steals all his attention. something digs too deep into the skin of your neck, and the boy erupts. "father!" he cries, eyes going impossiblely wider. "stop!"

at your throat, the blade hesitates but never recedes. the low voice tickles the shell of your ear, and you repress a shiver. "you've got until he closes his eyes to get the fuck outta here, or i'll skin you myself."

you hum, hiding a burst of adrenaline at the threat, and it earns you a impatient tch. "well, that's not very kind, is it, for the woman that's found your hatchling?"

before you have a chance to even consider a countermeasure, you're shoved roughly against the base of a tree, a hand fisted in the front of your robes. the man before you is — big, and you have to look up to see the expanse of his furious, unshaven face. in him somewhere, you see his son; hair bleached and untamed, a shared sharp nose, even their brows turn down to the same degree.

it would make you laugh, if a singular red eye was not tearing through your very being. if you did not know at once who stands before you.

"dragon, indeed."

"i'll fucking kill—"

"father!" the boy tries again, hurrying to beat his little fists into his father's thigh. "stop! stop!"

it takes the man back a step, though he still keeps you in close range. with an all-encompassing hand, he grabs both of the boys' and tugs him until he's hidden behind the wall of his back.

"stop! she's my friend!"

"she's a witch, boy!" the beast snarls, temper flared like wings. "and you've brought her straight here!"

"she helped me!" he shouts, digging little heels into the ground to steady himself as he tries to yank free. "and fed me! and—"

"fed you?" all at once, his hand drops and in a single swift movement, he's on his knees in front of the boy, gripping his cheeks as if to stop him from swallowing something long gone. "what did she feed you? the hell did you take from her?"

you scoff, offended, though the father continues searching his son's throat. "i do not delight in poisoning children, your grace."

both of their eyes snap to you, wide and full, and the little one murmurs "father?" quietly as the man rises to his feet. when he tries again, he's silenced with a low, guttural grunt. the curved blade in his hand gleams crimson in the light of the setting evening, reflecting nearly the same shade as the thick, crude jewels in his earlobes and peeking out from the collar of his tunic. with nearly the same intensity as his eye.

rumors have taken flight, of an exiled king that lost a war his arrogance began: bonded dragon slain in battle, an eye taken, long braid cut. family torn. the scar eating up the right sight of his body and face speak to his loss; an unending reminder of what pride made of him.

"go inside, hasaru."

bakugou katsuki: fire housed in human form.

the little boy — bakugou hasaru — is quick to take advantage of his father's surprise, darting to stand in front of you, like a small, wooden shield. you can't help but to smile at his bravery, his flickering defiance. "only if you promise not to hurt her."

"boy—"

"no, promise!"

"little drake," you let out a chime of laughter and crouch to his height, cupping his cheeks when he turns to you. "all the valor you have shown today gives me great courage, and i think—" you glance up at his father, smiling wistfully at his flared nostrils. "—i might be able to handle myself. it's not my wish to trouble you any further." the little frown you receive has your own lips turning down, and you pinch at his chin once, serious. "but should you ever encounter danger in these woods, do not hesitate to find me, hasaru."

"enough." the once-king grits, lips pulling back over his teeth. "get. inside."

you watch the little boy scurry off, shoulders slumped as he eyes his father distrustfully. as he reaches the top step, he looks back once over his shoulder, cheeks round and full with the pout he wears, and fat tears well in his eyes as he waves a final goodbye.

as soon as the door closes, you're digging your nails into the tree bark, passing back and fully through it to avoid katsuki's deadly swing. it catches in the wood, but he makes no move to free it, stepping out so that his singular gaze can burn into your cheeks.

"if y'know what's good for you, you won't come back here."

"i only mean to warn you, daddy drake," you sing, far out of reach and smiling at how bright his glare becomes. "that the next person to find your hatchling in the woods might not be so kind."

his left hand raises and you feel the sorcery before you see it, though it airs differently; heavy and yet smooth, like the calm lap of waves against a shore. innate is his fire, not something he's had to study, like you.

embers pop at his fingertips, smoke swirling. "that a threat?"

"not at all," you try to mimic him, thinking hard on the handful of kinetic spells stored in the tome of your mind. "just—he's a chatty little thing, you know? might want to watch out for that."

"i don't need advice from you, witch," he spits, "now leave us."

your attempts at softening his steel are fruitless and so you drop the smile, stepping as close to him as he'll allow before rearing his defenses. "i should hope they never find you or your boy, your grace—"

"don't ever—

"—but if they do," you continue, "know that i am not far."

he weighs your words, their honesty, searching your face as he considers; whatever kindness he finds is deemed untrustworthy, though you can't say you blame him. "why the hell would i believe you? because you want to help?" he snorts, turning his face so that the scar of his pride is on full display. "i'd have burned these fucking woods to the ground, had i the chance."

"oh, i don't doubt that," you murmur, retreating a step when he huffs. "but i lost the ones i love, too, once, and i would have ripped the world to pieces just the same, if it meant they would be returned to me."

the steel warms, giving away the true shape of his grief for only a moment before hardening again; the once-king says nothing, only grunts before turning with his own retreat.

"not far," you repeat, light, when he pauses on the steps of his house. "over the river and near the god-tree. the little drake will know the way."

his arrogant eye meets you over his shoulder, now weary, clouded, and he nods. wordless is an understanding such as this.

as soon as he reaches for the door, it swings open and hasaru is sticking out his little head before his father can finish gritting out his name. a toothy smile reaches you, and then katsuki as he turns to him, relieved that you are not kindling for their hearth. at the sight, the once-king warms again, offering a small tug of his lips before pressing a firm hand on his son's head and steering him back inside.

katsuki looks out one last time, as you let the wind take the petals of you away.

generally i find it so difficult to imagine katsuki with a beard, but quirkred's art is just. woof.

[roetrolls]

I need to do something creative or I will die

[aweisz]

me a couple days ago: oooooh i love this whumptober prompt for the 9th i'll do such an elaborate thing oooooh

me on the 9th: why does drawing involve drawing

[ruinakete]

♡ ・ kindred beasts, shared breaths ━━━ boel drabble, featuring zephia & eremiya

TRADITION WAS MERELY A SPECTACLE AMID THE STUDY OF HUMAN NATURE; in which, in all aspects this mage dragon knew itself to be familiar, came the assumed predictability of the bishop's reaction once all was prepared and she had been herded into the tent's corner without struggle, like the very sheep she pretended to wear the flayed skin of. thus, predictability bled into a loose stream of evasiveness and retaliation,

bishop returned its gaze with not a hint of emotion. dragon bared its fangs in the kindest of smiles. bishop stepped right. dragon followed suit. bishop stepped back. dragon closed the distance.

"sister eremiya," it drawled in a low hum, reaching for her when the next retreating step bumped her lower back against the abrupt edge of a table. claws flex above her stomach, a ghost's threat of physicality, and━━━ah, there it was. the twitch of her otherwise stern countenance, curling her lips into the small beginnings of a scowl. it pushed further, tilting its head to the side as it mimicked a purr, "won't you tend to me?"

and her answer was ever so obstinate in the face of that in which she had no fear for or to. "do not waste your breath," raspy, not unlike the growl of a beast condemned within a human's throat, "you have paraded those wounds long enough. i want nothing to do with you nor your dirty faith."

an arched brow and a wider grin was all her refusal evoked from it, to which her frown only deepened, to the extent of furrowing her brows and twitching her nose.

"hm, disappointing. even after i spoke so highly of your talent to each attendant who wished to close these wounds themselves." zephia offered a half - hearted shrug of one shoulder, pulling back its claws to clasp its hands behind its back. though it straightened its posture, she had not budged from where she leaned against the table and away from it. another hum, "i suppose i'll be forced to ask my hound for aid, instead. but, ah, i'd hate to bring this up with him. he's prone to dramatics when it comes to me, i fear. you know how children get."

the slightest glance was laid upon eremiya, not ignorant to both the sudden twitch of her hand nor the stiffness of her once relaxed shoulders. amusement brightened two - toned eyes and, once the delight formed itself as laughter within the back of its throat, it played the innocent gasp of a sheep. "oh? do you know him? my darling hound; griss is his name. mark on his cheek? scarred? half - done and half - cut robes? quite the sight, no?"

but the emotion darkening eremiya's gaze could not be fright, no, for her body would have followed the reaction in full, from trembling hands to twitching eyes. thus, mage dragon opened its mouth to continue, before the sudden twist of the bishop's clenched fist tore its very breath from it. gasping, it halted itself on instinct. the magic seeping from her fingers was recognized, swiftly, though little could stop the unconscious stumble backward, a clumsiness it immediately righted.

"if you ever command that runt to stalk me again, i will rid you of your stupid dog." her fist remained closed, stubbornly withholding the stolen energy within the intangible gates of nosferatu. then came the scowl, spreading so naturally across her face that zephia could not help but utter a small, breathy laugh at the successful sight.

a shaky inhale racked its chest, but it continued to prod and poke despite the heavy exhaustion weighing its body. "you're c━━━confident, sister." her gaze narrowed; it wheezed out another laugh. "he'd tear you to shreds in seconds."

and, just as it had been torn away, the loosening of her fist filled in the gaps in the mage dragon's chest, seizing its breath and forcing it to settle on its own. though it shivered at the wealth of magic given back, unmeasured to the extent of evident noticeability.

eremiya clicked her tongue, unimpressed seemingly, "yet he had not."

obviously not. "hm - hm. . . because i told him to keep you alive. what fun are you dead?"

silence, a dreading pause, before she sighed and took hold of her staff from where it stood leaning against a nearby crate. "you have been healed, zephia," she said, "now leave me be and remember my vow."

fangs unsheathed behind its grin as it tilted its head almost curiously, "see? now was that difficult to do?" as she would have bent to its expectation in no other manner. a revelation she could only scoff at. yet her gaze only widened when it leaned to ask, "though i remember you making a great deal over not knowing how to control your magic. but after a feat like that. . . had you lied to surprise dear ol' me, i wonder?"

a pause before eremiya masked her incredulity with a sneer and shoved past it, "the battlefield needs me. make yourself useful and return to whichever den you crawled from, fool." softly, with the twitch of zephia's ear, she sighed, "how exhausting. . ."

OBLIGATORY INTERMUSE BOEL INTERACTION, FINISHED !