popawritter12

[popawritter12]

Yantober: Fifth day

"I've got a diary, just to take notes of how much I love you, what if anybody finds it? It's just a proof of my love"

November 25, year not specified

《At 8:35 p.m. Michael Smith reported an emergency call of a kidnapping and gender violence in a house on the outskirts of the city. Upon searching the home provided by the woman who called, we found two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, etc. The apartment appeared to have at least two padlocks on a door, from which screams were heard from the other side. Upon forcing the door, we found that there was a person on the floor ---Recognized as (Name) (Last Name)---, a notable state of malnutrition and dehydration, with bite marks running from the beginning of his jaw to the collarbones of his chest with a noticeable smell of stench ---The victim soon commented on the estimated time in which they was denied a bath---, the police station has confiscated the house of the accused in question, removing both clothing, belongings, jewelry and household appliances belonging to (Name). The commissioner in charge (Name redacted) located a diary belonging to the accused in question. Any information removed from this report will be presented to the jury during the trial for the crimes committed by the defendant whose whereabouts are unknown.》

"September 25th, first day.

First day of the report of my existence, life, interests, expected future, and love for (Name).

We will divide this diary into different parts ---I estimate a total of 7---

-Introduction -Family -Friends -Likes -Expected future -General reports

Everything that will be found within this diary is the authorship of (Name crossed out).

You turn the page, finding the title of "Introduction"

<<(Name) (Last name) is a young person of (Age erased) who is currently in they university studies. They was seen a couple of weeks ago due to an unexpected encounter between the two of us. (Name) is the same age as me, I assume they is a little more selfless than other people. I found that, just as I expected, they shows no interest in having a partner ---yay---.

This person has achieved a transcendental feat; they managed to make me fall in love. It is ironic to believe that someone like me could become a lovesick, but that is the case, and the world has decided to protect my love with my great intelligence.

Next, all the instructions, reports and data necessary for the capture and containment of (Name) will follow.>>

You turn the next page, which is a colorful one, full of highlighters of different colors and tones.

<<Family.

(Name) has a father and a mother, I do not know the whereabouts of possible or existing brothers or sisters. There is no trace of aunts or uncles, only of a grandmother of whom there is no information of any kind. Not even an address, only a mention in a night conversation he had with they mother>>

Another page

<<Friends.

(Name) has friends, I can't tell if they are many, too many, or the amount of people who approach her per day is inhuman (it must be because I'm not used to so many people so close to someone).

In particular, they has two people who are always close; (Name crossed out) and (Name crossed out), both of them being of the same sex.

I can't describe with my own words how much I hate (Name crossed out), but always, ALWAYS too close to them, now they looks at me as if I were a weirdo, and even (Name) came to see me strangely just because of something (Name crossed out) has said.>>

《NOTE: Now that I don't see them as often, I think it was exaggerated to hate them so much》

Another page

<<Likes.

(Investigators have decided to erase most of the key data written in this part of the diary, any visible data is related to theft, harassment and invasion of private property by the accused)

(Name) really likes ice cream, especially (Irrelevant data) ice cream, I bought a lot to be prepared for ---that day---.

(Data erased)

They loves jackets, they loves to wear them in winter, especially the light blue color ---It fills with the smell of lavender, it smells pretty good---. They also has a favorite shirt, I don't understand why they loves it so much, but they sobbed when couldn't find it in their closet ---I had to lament for several minutes after hearing their crying through the walls---.

(Data erased.)

Another page

<<Expected future.

A house, maybe in the middle of nowhere, with several children/pets running around the woods. (Name) with a (Data deleted), would look so cute with a sweet smile while holding one of our children in his hands, (data deleted).

Another page, now looking more damaged, full of traces of lines without a beginning or an end, going around in circles

<<General reports

First week

(Name) loves seeing animals on the streets, she usually takes them in her hands and pampers them, it is unhealthy, but she looks sweet, and it is noticeable that it is only a hint of what she really is.

Second week

A boy declared himself to her. I don't understand why he smiled. It hurts, it hurts to think about the wrong thing. Why would she go out with someone like him? (Part of the lost diary, the sheet of paper

(It's broken)

Third week

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, Why is they kissing them? Why is they touching them? Why isn't it me?

Fourth week

I have a plan for this, don't worry, I can fix this, I can take down that jerk, I can get you safe.

Fifth week

Oh, I couldn't even put in a fourth week, I've been too busy, you know? It's hard to stay calm when, I don't know, you're planning a fucking murder.

I kick a lot, I think even more than I expected. But he was an idiot, so I'm not surprised he tried to scream to save himself---acting like that would save him---.

Sixth week

Don't cry, baby, don't cry, I'm here, I love you, I'm all you need.

(The rest of the weeks were burned, as was the back cover of the newspaper.)

《The victim is currently in recovery, the tremors and mental consequences that come with being held with the fleeing criminal appear to be permanent, psychological analysis currently shows no good future for (Name)》

Characters that could be used in this story:

League Of Legends

-Modern! AU Jinx

-Modern! AU Hwei

-Modern! AU Sett

-Modern! AU Talon

DMC

-Nero

-Nico

TF2

-Scout

[popawritter12]

Yanderetober: Fourth day

"I just need a weapon to keep you by my side, my sweetheart"

You were running.

Speciffically, running away from someone.

That was all you needed to know.

Your feet could barely move normally and slowly after running for so long, and your legs suffered from an incomprehensible pain while only your labored breathing was audible in the middle of the trees surrounding your vision. You tried to contain your crying until your body collapsed from so many oppressed tears, but it was inevitable to feel your tears caressing your cheeks at the same time as your clothes were torn by branches, leaving a visible trail for your captor.

---Stop running!

That scream managed to make your skin crawl like you had never felt before, and your own body suffered from tremors while the only thing you were able to do was the same; keep running, running, running, and running. You couldn't help but feel that everything was wrong, that you were doomed to end up dead in this meadow covered by abundant nature, far from your family, far from mom, far from dad, far from everyone, this being, this psychopath, this cause of so much suffering towards you, being your only company.

Step after step, branch after broken branch, tree after tree passed, without any hope of escaping you find your way out of the Forest even with so many paths made in the middle of your life you couldn't find a way out there was no way out.

The screams chorused along with the sound of the leaves slowly dying with each step of both you and your pursuer accompanied the environment in a horrible symphony.

A single mistake and everything was over, a badly positioned foot and your fall would be called your condemnation to the desolate hell, thus losing the only opportunity you could have to reach the classroom, similar to a prisoner behind bars, suffering the consequences of his own actions.

At that moment, one of the many scratches cruelly damages one of your legs, tearing the skin of the left calf as quickly as it was effective, thus achieving an almost immediate effect of pain. But even if it were described like that, the pain was impossible to escape from.

The cry of going that is heard in the distance from your location seems like Tuesday even more so, reaching the point where even your own walk becomes a torture. But even so, you continued walking, spreading out from that person, now hiding your small body behind the trees in a desperate attempt to distract your actor, deceiving him as he always deceived you.

---Honey! Where are you? ---They called you again, a cry that numbs your soul, extinguishing your hope.

Your back stuck to one of the trees, using the bark to cover your body, and covering your mouth with your hands, you came to assume that you could escape just by hiding your own presence.

Step after step over the leaves and the dense grass where the bugs hid, inhalation after inhalation, their noises faded away, and it seemed like hope was returning to you. Your hands slowly moved away from your face, a grimace of happiness appearing between your cheeks. And the edge of a knife passed over your neck, quickly, gently resting its cold edge against your skin.

---My love.

Their tone of voice alone was rough and cold, different from how he normally sounded.

---My dear, my darling… ---They whispered. ---, what are you doing?

The cry chokes in your throat as the edge seems to penetrate your skin but without even cutting, with a pressure similar to a butcher on the verge of slaughtering the meat.

---Talk to me, love ---They begged ---, why are you running away?

A drop escapes from one of your eyes, as you refused to see more, only limiting your vision to nothingness itself.

---Speak.

Your own heart exploded inside your chest, crashing against your ribs with a painful and resonant pumping in your body, moving your entire being as if it were a rag doll.

Their demands for your voice by the second become louder and louder, more aggressive, more threatening.

---Why would you leave me? ---They began, the blade grazing the skin of your neck ---, after everything I did for you, all the blood I spilled, everything we represent in this world ---They whispered, now progressively exerting pressure on the handle of the weapon ---, you are everything to me, if you leave, what will I be?

A warm and decreasing thread of blood slowly descended your neck, guided by a light drop that barely stopped when it reached your clothes.

---I'm nothing, I'll be nothing if you leave, you can't leave me if you mean so much to me ---Trembling, their face came closer to yours. ---, you can't leave my life, and I won't let you go, not if I can forbid it.

The cut didn't finish being executed, since the blade was quickly withdrawn, and soon a blow was placed right on your neck, thus achieving immediate pain, and in turn, fainting.

---I'm sorry for having hurt you, darling.

The little you remember after that, it was waking up, looking around, and see that you were in the same room again, but only having bandages around your neck, pressing the open wound, and a couple more chains surrounding your ankle and wrists.

Characters that could be used in this story:

League Of Legends

-Akali

-Ezreal

-Caitlyn

-Katarina.

Slashers!

-Freddy Kruger

Kimetsu No Yaiba

-Mitsuri Kanroji

-Tamayo

-Yushiro

-Gyutaro.

[popawritter12]

Yantober: Third Day

-

"If the only way you will love is by making you crazy, then i'm gonna do it, darling"

There are traces of spit in the kitchen.

I never knew how to explain to my friends, or rather how to make people understand that I have never left spit in my house or in anyone's house, and I even doubted rats were capable of leaving such levels of that shit on the table, on the furniture, on the kitchen, or anywhere in the house. It was extremely stressful to explain to people that I found it inhumane to live in such depraved conditions.

It seemed so disgusting to me that more than once I hesitated to buy a gun, a camera, something to help me and my anger always increased when I stepped on it or touched it by accident.

It was so disgusting that I did not last even a month living with those levels of unknown saliva in my house. I thought about moving out of the house, and a few weeks later, I did it. For the first time in three years this person ---or whoever it is--- had managed to do what I never thought was possible; Took me out of my comfort zone, took me out of MY house to sent me to any place in the world, and for the sole reason that there was always spit in the kitchen, and I find so annoying to always find that horrible liquid in my food, in my forgotten breads or in my juice jugs ---and without going any further my bottle of water---, or even the tiny remains that I left on the table during the nights that I snacked on something or simply forgot to put it away properly.

But even in the new house, a few hours after arriving, where I realized that I had even more space than I ever had in my old apartment, or in my life in general, I always find the same traces of dirty and smelly spit on my bread; traces of slime on my table; traces of spit on my clothes; traces of spit on my furniture; any place that is part of my house in general since more than once I have had the misfortune of finding that viscous liquid.

I usually wouldn't complain if it were small remains, if it were a little more tiny, even if I could identify the causer of this the rats or any other rodent that decided to invade my home. But it bothers me even more to know that it was a person, or that it was some stranger who is obsessed with breaking into my house, eating my food and leaving as if nothing mattered, as if this were his house and not mine, not that of a poor man who only wants to stay on his feet in such a disastrous economy.

I started putting out rat traps, I also used that glue trap that my mom used to cockroaches invasor or I even bought different sprays to keep them at bay, but after a while the traps kept staying in the same place, unused; as if they were a modest decoration, just any one. And more than once I found them organized in different places; As if that person or strange entity was mocking all the effort I had made, all the money I spent to try to cope with this complicated situation, each and every one of my efforts.

I knew at that moment that I was doomed, doomed to live in this miserable house always full of other people's drool, doomed to have some kind of monster stalking me or a very mentally ill human who only wants to delight in my suffering, that is because anyone who knows me would know how difficult it is for me to deal with the issue of wasted food, or even worse; dirty places.

I was ---without a doubt--- an idiot who did not know how to organize or put things away after using or buying them, but I have never committed such a sin of not putting the ingredients away properly inside each bag ---although the only exception to this is nighttime meals---. No! My mother didn't raise me with so much effort to teach me the minimum basic notion about life, so that this stranger comes along and wants to change everything, leaving his disgusting drool behind.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, one day I woke up with that viscous liquid on my neck; it wasn't a droplet, or a mark that was dry, but it was accompanied by an unevenness in my skin; I was bitten, and the same traces of saliva were enough proof to know that, indeed, this person or entity seems to know perfectly well what they are doing to me.

I can't stop shaking; I drag my fingers along the already wounded skin, with a certain burning sensation escaping from my neck with each caress from my fingers, whose trace seems to always start and stop in the same place. I still don't understand what to do.

I feel my own words stuck deep in my throat, drowned, tied by the thread of fear, which so possesses my body, and which leaves so much horror on my skin.

But soon I had to go back to work, and the questions were accompanied by a mischievous look, passive jokes that caused a laugh or two among my colleagues, and a feeling of loneliness that embitters my heart.

I press each key of the keyboard with the same ease that it feels, but I can feel my mind going on.

Immersed in this field of terror, full of desolation, and with subtle clues that I refuse to even see or feel under my bare feet. The caresses of the grass have the opposite effect on my mind, and at the same time that I could feel dead in life, my head leaned subtly forward, trying to find a space to continue writing, to finish the report of the day.

And I fall, I fall against the keyboard, I fall into my imagination again. The light was conspicuous by its absence, and the darkness ruins my notion of time. Seconds passed into minutes, and minutes into hours, but I still saw everything completely dark, leaving in front of me only an almost permanent blindness. But my body, even if I am sunk in an imagination corrupted by the constant nightmare of the beast lurking behind the walls, is awake. It was contradictory, but I could understand that thanks to my constant alert to an unwanted attack from that stranger, my own body decided to stay awake, even if my mind was rested.

But it was useless to understand why I could feel everything around me; even if it was the gentle touches on my head from a companion or the feeling of wood against my legs, there was only one feeling that reminded me why this life was hell.

A hot air landed on my light blue shirt, being so heavy that my own body hair stood on end, and at the same time the feeling of my skin and clothes receiving that wind that moved my little beauty and garment was so constant that only that was going to be able to wake me up. Although that would be in a normal situation, and this was not a normal situation.

Soon the hot wind became even heavier, increasing its temperature level in a matter of seconds, going from what resembled a slow and soft inhalation and exhalation to heavy sighs, accompanied by a noise similar to that made by a canine when it's keeping its mouth open. And I felt it; first it was a small drop, then another, followed by a journey of both along the contour of my shirt, generating traces of drops on my clothes. And soon, his breathing felt heavier, closer, and his saliva fell more frequently, now leaving traces indefinitely visible to anyone's eyes.

And they lips collided with my neck, I knew it by the tiny 《muak》 that was deposited on my skin, right on the occipital triangle, and soon it was another, now on the collarbone, and another, and another, and another.

I painstakingly tried to move my body, but the space around my own muscle mass seemed oppressed, forced to stay in the same place, and its mobility was practically impossible. I wouldn't even have the strength to sob, since even the surface of my face was paralyzed.

Everything stopped, their breathing, which seemed more irregular with each unwanted contact, now moved away from me, slowly and surely. I celebrated internally, thinking that, at least for today, I had been saved from this kind of entity trying to somehow taste my skin, as if I were its victim, its prey.

And then, they bit me.

It was sudden, it was painful, and it was a long period of time in which they decided to cling to my skin. They teeth, selectively, clenched and released for several seconds, but without ever letting go of my skin. My own screams, now locked deep in my chest, do not express the discomfort I feel as my muscles were compressed in the same way, and the feeling of mental ambiguity seemed to be stronger, my body had accepted this horrendous fate; to suffer the strong and marked bites of an entity whose name I do not even know.

And I woke up.

A girl had woken me up, and seeing my eyes half open, a nervous grimace formed on her cheekbones, and as she moved her blond hair with the help of her fingers, a small whisper escaped from her lips.

---We have to go, unless you want to make overtime again.

It was a barely audible whisper, and I soon realized that I had indeed fallen asleep at work.

She left, and I was left in that office, still shaking; my legs could barely stand on their own, and my arms tried to find balance with the help of the furniture.

It is not until I notice a previously unknown level of moisture on my neck that I can touch that viscous liquid between my fingers again.

Characters that could be used in this story:

League Of Legends:

-Fiddlesticks.

-Nocturne(?

-Evelynn.

I honestly don't know anymore more, bc this looks like a medium- horror story(??? maybe I was reading too much Lovecraft.

[popawritter12]

I had the third day almost finished, but i couldn't traduce it yet for the love of god i want to have force

[popawritter12]

I’m a simple man, I see the news, I animate @mcspuddington MGR rtfd

Seriously they really need to catch this guy

[popawritter12]

I KNOW IM SLOW WITH THE STORIES IM SOWY HAWNBJKWANFJAKMF

[popawritter12]

Yantober: Second Day

Lovesick

"Maybe im a Lovesick, but I still love you"

I buried all that I had. I used to be someone, I used to have a life, people, someone who actually cares of me. Even If was a minimum of love, I was satisfied with that. But now, I have nothing.

I don't understand where I go, or even where I were in the first place, and, in fact, im not scared by that, i was scared by something else. A answer to my fears, A answer for everything I once had fear of, for everything I knowed will come back to take me. But, even with just tracks of the answer, I learned that It was nearly close, and that causes me more fear, but... It was in front of my eyes, It was obvious what is the answer to that, or actually, who is the answer to that.

You get out the worst part of me, from the first moment our eyes looked into each other edge, I just should have walked away, that you were someone who gonna changes everything in me, in the most deliberate and slow, tortuous ways possible. But now, that was the past, and the past Is never gonna come back to give me another chance. But, even if I don't get a chance, I know a little thing.

I'm in the most ambigous nothing right now, and I know that even If you or someone else try to discover why I'm acting in this way, you or that someone else gonna find nothing, just a little, little, nothing, but you, of course.

And now, here we are, inside four walls with nothing more than you and me, in the middle of nothing, one nothing so special that I would kill again for having it all the time. And even If sometimes I call It an inferno in live, I know that it's not true, that I'm right for doing this, I'm right for everything I done.

More than one time I tried to forget you or let you go, but I know Is impossible, and even If I tried to do It just to have a little peace with my moral, I know that, in the evening or in the morning after, I will get you back, I will chase you untill you were in my arms again.

But, in this destiny, I know Is something wrong, or at least, something that makes me think a lot; All the corpses, all the blood or all the injuries that have in they skin, were just the beginning, that you, of all the corpses, were the most glorius trophy that I could ever had, and even Is that glorius to me that make me think I divine, Is inhuman, it's a trap of any god or force out of my imagination that wants to take you as the lure of my trap.

While I sat at the living room, I tried to remember when was the first time and when was the last time that I must have thought you were in my arms, that you were mine. Even If It was at the cost of your suffering, of your pain, of you forced to live with me beneath this fourth walls, but even in the end of the day, I learned ---or remembered--- my life will never gonna be normal again, and even If I tried to save our fairy tales relationship, I know now it's just a cheap copy of what once was, more likely if it was a show made by kids.

Im broken, Im so so broken that even If you had all the pieces and all the clue In the world, I know you will never got me back. And I know It from the first time I didn't felt safe in your arms, I didn't felt you love me back. And when I suffer from you leaving me and leaving all of the things one were part of your life, I felt it like a joke, I felt it like a derision to all my effort, to my pain, to my hands stained with someone else's blood. And maybe the angry feeling make me hurt, not you, of course, but everyone, every other person one was just an innocent walking was now a victim of my anger.

But what else will I do? I couldn't hurt you like that, I'm so coward to just touch a hair to you, but I'm so afflicted by your action that makes me hurt other people, and I know this is the only way to reduce the load of stress on my back, to use the violenve again, to be a monster, one that I signed to myself to never be again, just because I had you, I belonged you.

And now Im thinking If even with all the pain in the world and all of my insides burning me so slowly for the regret, for the pain, for the everything, for the knowing I'll never come back to once I was. But the only thing that makes me feel safe, is saying I love you, I love you, and I'll still love you, like if my life depend of it.

In this time, I'll just justify my actions by you, your presence, your smile, your warm, your everything makes me felt like It was a justification to every corpse under me, to every drop of blood in my clothes. But I don't want to blame you, I know you don't have any fault in this, you don't deserve to have someone like me to cause you all of this, I know I'm a sinner, I'm the cause of everything, but, at the same time, even If I had the fault of hurting people, even If I had the fault for making you cry or even felt fault, I am not capable of blaming me for falling in love with you. Maybe I'm a sinner for making other people hurt or lose they only life, but I'm not a sinner for feeling that I must had to protect you, I must had to having you between this walls, in my arms, belonging to me. And If I'm a demon or a awful person, or I need to do the worst things in this world just to have you in my arms, I know I will do it, I will be the most cruel and desesperate for love sinners of all.

And even if I am called the greatest sin in all of history, I will be happy, I will be so happy that I could not stop smiling in every photo in case they take this case as a record, because I would know that everything would have been worth it, that all my efforts were rewarded by your mere presence, and all the blood I shed would be called the pennies that were worth paying the price of a hug, a kiss, or a whole life by your side.

I may have paid the bill with someone else's money, but I do not have regret. I am and will be a thief, and I will be a sinner, but I will be yours, I will be your property, and you will be mine. I will be the sinner but you will be the reward of every effort and you will be the empirical reason why I, the sinner, decided to betray everything we call human moral, or human.

Characters that could be used in this story;

League of Legends

Jhin

Cassiopeia

Kayn

Jayce

Swain

Sylas

Varus

Katarina

Kengan Ashura

Agito Kanoh

Adam Dudley

Hajime Hanafusa

Ryō Inaba

Mortal Kombat 1

Baraka

Ashrah

Kenshi Katahashi

[popawritter12]

Yantober; First Day

Dream

"Even a dream is capable of make me know how much I love you"

I get up.

I always get up, but after that, i think, i think a lot, i think so much that my own mind is tired of all my thinking.

But, in this big space, there's something, outside all of the biology in the books o in the society in general, that i define like a Leech, a Leech that is clinged in my mind, using it's theet to take away all of my memories, all of the people, my achievements, my mistakes, all of them, just leaving one thing, one memory, the figure, the voice, everything... And it's you, you, you and only you.

And, also, i dream, mainly, about you. The night before i dreamed i haved you in my arms, both of us in a bed, clinging into each other, covered in a silk sheet, and in that dream, i felt my mind get a rest of everything, all of my thinking, all of my worries, all of my plans, minimizing all of my pain like it never existed, and just left the both of us, both, in that silk sheet, our silk sheet.

But then, two questions appear in my mind, why do I felt like everything just fades away? Why everyone just left my side, but you stay? I don't understand, and, mostly, i have fear, a lot of fear thinking about how progressively and irreversible line of thoughs just disappear in the void, in my head, leaving just a part of nothing.

And I still getting up, and every fucking day is most disappointing that the before. Most of the days I want to swallow sleeping pills, just to be capable of taking you in my arms one more time. But the little of my sanity remains tell me that is just too fucking pathetic do that thing, telling me that I can't be that desesperate just for a fantasy, a fantasy that I am able to bring to reality if I try hard enough.

But i can't just not waking up, and just for open my eyes, for feeling the sun irrumping all of my fantasies make me feel so miserable that I just can do one thing, again and again and again; think about you.

The best of my days were when I see you; every comment give me so mucho happyness to my days that just reaffirms the same feeling that I have every day; I need you in my life, I need you here, with me, and you have me here, with you. A kiss, a hug or anything, just give me something of you.

But, all of the good things had and end, and the end of all my happiness appear in the form of that man. I see him, bringing its unpleasant presence to us, but especially, to you, talking like everything in him is good, like if everything is actually good. And I felt that hate appear in my mind like always I see him, ah, that beautiful and inevitable feeling.

That feeling is the unique feature is the first and only thing that triggers me about you; Im just too selfish to accept that anybody could talk to you, taking you, hug you, or anything. But at the same time, Im too shy to told you how much I love you, and in the previous moment of you giving me a kiss with that sweetness of yours, and telling me how much do you actually love me, just to finally reaffirm, that I I fulfilled my mission. v

And his laugh invades my ears again, with his comments ---The same you pretend to laugh in order to keep afloat a friendship that it's not that worth it--- that are just too fucking boring, make me felt tired, and even if I try to even deny it, it's because he's invading you, your space, with his touch, with his presence. And no, there's no form in this world or universe to make me not hate him, even if you fade away from his life, I will stay hating on him.

But no, you have to pretend that everything is okay, even if he's touching you, taking you, kissing you, I know who you are, I know what you do, I know that you are just pretending. And by a pair of streets, I had the feeling of hate in the bottom of my heart, trying to take all of my feelings and suppressing them until everything is over. And then I have the question, and I know that you have the answer, what the fuck are you doing? And Why are you doing it?

I can't just implore to you to stop, and I know that doing that just gonna spoil everything, and even with all of the pain in my heart, I know that I had to wait, to wait for you, to wait for your action.

Both of you enter the building, and start walking to the elevator, and one more time, that felt of hate just make me felt worst, making me think that... I just need to kill him. Even with every step I climbed, that thought was only stronger and stronger, making my hands shake, trying to supress all of my feelings in my arms, so tense that they seemed on the verge of breaking. And soon, i arrived to the floor that you were, trying to open the door with enthusiasm. With his hand in your hip, in your body.

Everything in my mind starts to overthrow, and when you opened the door of that room, I just could think about... how my own world start to collapse. Piece by piece, everything goes, leaving nothing, and eventually, There's nothing, just you, you and the hand of him in your body, a smile in your face while you open that door, ready to getting with this man, with this garbage, ready to ruin all of my efforts and mistakes to having you in my arms.

Both of you get into the room, the door barely supported in the frame, just to make all of the people know that both of you were in that room. The laughs mixed with heavy sighs make a symphony of the end of the world, the end of my world. I could barely walk, I barely reached the door, and I barely heard his mundane and rude whispers against your skin, only one reaction was possible in me: burst inside.

That leech finally had sucked all the sanity I had left out of me, all of them, there's nobody, there's no you, there's no love, there's no "us", there's just hate, in the form of that man, in that person with the playful smile, and with his awful comments going out of that fucking mouth.

And in a matter of seconds, the entire atmosphere twisted around, just leaving a body beneath me, with his blood in my hands, and his disfigured face crashing against the skin of my knuckles. I am not even capable of hear your screams, I couldn't even focus on your reaction to this wrong action, because, finally, my anger had overcome my love for you, and there was nothing left but sharp blows against a face contorted in agony.

I don't even remember how much time has passed until I stopped, but I remember that I stopped, I remember so well how he took his last breaths and moans, and I remember how he left this world, with his eyes swollen from the tears that mixed with the blood on the ground, with his attempts at breathing so irregular that it seemed like his lungs were beginning to fail, and how his eyes, filled with a fear so characteristic of someone about to die, turned a dead white.

And that memory stuck so firmly in my mind that it often resembled the trauma of failure, the mistake I had made solely and exclusively out of uncontrolled hatred, like if I was a dog releasing stress on a toy.

I couldn't come back, I couldn't even try to get me back of this moment, to get back that part of me that was previously only consumed by love, by my love for you, by all of you.

But I had to look up, and I did it; only to be met with a meeting of your lips against mine so soft yet so desperate, that my heart began to beat again, not from hatred for someone ---not for their previous death, but for their mere existence in your life--- but for you, for you and nothing but you.

And then, I wake up again.

His screams were heared in the middle of the place, echoing off the grey, old walls like an ambient noise, an annoying and unbearable one. I was upset for obvious reasons, and mainly, he was so peaceful when he slept in his chair, wrapped tenderly in ropes, that I thought about leaving him like that forever! Asleep, rested, and unable to resist my request, as kind as it was to get him out of your life.

But no, obviusly no, of course that an idiot will always be an idiot, and especially someone who was stupid enough to allow himself to be taken from his bed to any other place without any preventive measures against it.

But, as I learned so well from life, I knew I had made a mistake, not as serious as allowing you to see what I really am of course, but a mistake in any way. A mistake I swore I would never repeat again.

And that mistake was simple; fantasizing about having you when I could make a kiss of yours in mines come true if only I stopped letting myself be carried away by dreams that eat away at pieces of my sanity. Those eaten away pieces could be saved if only I stopped sleeping, stopped dreaming about you, only and exclusively to make each and every one of my thoughts I ever had about you come true, you and your existence, you and your feelings, you and only you.

Characters! That could be used in this story;

League of Legends:

-Ahri

-Akali

-Akshan

-Caitlyn

-Darius

-Diana

-Ekko

-Ezreal

-Fiora

-Gangplank

-Garen

-Graves

-Irelia

-Jarvan IV

-Jayce

-Kai'sa

-Karma

-Hwei

-Sett

-Vi

MGRR:

-Raiden

Team Fortress 2:

-Scout

-Medic

-Sniper

Stardew Valley:

-Alex

-Haley

-Gunther

Devil May Cry:

-Nero.

[popawritter12]

I guess that the 4 people that still believe in this account know what this means(?

Here’s the Inktober Yandere prompt I made for myself but anyone else can join me and do it as well! (please at least follow the Tumblr guidelines so your work won’t be flagged so others can still view it. I recommend posting your work somewhere else if there’s ) If you’re a writer then feel free to use these too as prompts or change some of them so it can easier fit to you. This is just a thing to help people give them a prompt to do and to practice drawing or writing about yandere characters or themes.

(I’ll be tagging it as yantober for short since it’s easier lol. Please note I don’t condone abusive behavior and my interest in yanderes is that I find them interesting characters in fiction.)

[popawritter12]

Just checking up on you are you okay

I have to say that... THIS TIME WAS SO DIFFICULT FOR MY MIND WUFNWIXM

This is literally me:

But thank you for worrying <3

[popawritter12]

that post of yours about how every yandere in league of legends is consenting made me think about how they are when it comes to jealousy I just love your posts

Author's notes: I know, im very young in this plataform, but things in my "love life" make me change a LOT of things in my life, so... I guess that i'm coming back bcs i "come back" to normal.

Also I had this thought for a long time so... Let me explain it first.

Of course that i will divide it in a total of four categories:

1- Just in a extreme jeolusy feeling, it gonna "take measures".

2- Tries to hide the jealous, but in one point just gets carried away they emotions.

3- Meticulous search of that person, and subsequent kill.

4- Violent reaccion in view of the jealousy.

5- A REAL violent reaccion in view of the jealousy.

So, let's start

1- Just in a extreme jeolusy feeling, they gonna "take measures".

Alistar, Anivia, Bardo, Blitzcrank, Braum, Galio, Ivern, Janna, Jax, Kai'sa, Karma, Kassadin, Lee Sin, Leona, Lillia, Malphite, Maokai, Master Yi, Morgana, Nami, Neeko, Orianna, Pantheon, Rakan, Riven, Ryze, Shen, Skarner, Soraka, Taliyah, Taric, Wukong, Yasuo, Yone, Yorick, Zac and Zilean.

2- Tries to hide the jealous, but in one point just gets carried away they emotions.

Ahri, Akshan, Aphelios, Caitlyn, Camille, Ekko, Garen, Gragas, Gwen, Hwei Illao, Irelia, Jarvan IV, Kalistam Kayle, Nautilus, Nilah, Olaf, Ornn, Quinn, Rell, Samira, Senna, Sona, Tryndamere, Varus, Volibear, Xin Zhao and Zeri.

3- Meticulous search of that person, and subsequent kill.

Akali, Ashe, Azir, Darius, Diana, Draven, Fiora, Jayce, Jhin, Katarina, Kayn, K'sante, Lucian, Lux, Miss Fortune, Nasus, Nidalee, Pyke, Qiyana, Renata Glasc, Renekton, Rengar, Sejuani, Seraphine, Sett, Shivana, Sivir, Swain, Sylas, Talon, Twisted Fate, Vayne, Viktor, Xayah and Zed.

4- Violent reaccion in view of the jealousy.

Cassiopeia, Dr.Mundo, Elise, Evelynn, Gangplank, Malzahar, Nocturne, Shaco, Singed, Thresh, Udyr, Vi, Xerath and Zyra.

5- A REAL violent reaccion in view of the jealousy.

Aatrox, Aurelion Sol, Brand, Bel' veth, Briar, Hecarim, Jinx, Karthus, Le Blanc, Lissandra, Mordekaiser, Sion, Syndra, Trundle, Tham Kench, Urgot, Vel' Koz, Viego, Vladimir and Warwick.

And, there are two exception of all of this categories; Ezreal and Graves. Why? Well, First i thought that both of them would really be the 3rd categorie, but then i realiced that... The two of them would TRY to kill the cause of they jealousy, but... They literally kill the "cause" by accident ---or directly didn't even get it---, so... that is my explication.

Im gonna say it, it was so funny to do this, and I really say that I must be thankfull to all of the Anon's that try activelly to "revive" this side of mine of hiperfilaxion with Yanderism and my favorite games.

Also, I learned to crochet and do pixel art so im guess that im gonna put some of that from time to time in this account. I wish to all of you the best! <3

[popawritter12]

[OC X CANON APPRECIATION POST! 🩷✨]

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE AND SUPPORT OC X CANON!!

[popawritter12]

Yandere! Talon x Reader part 2

-

Author's notes: Maybe i'm late? Yeah, but that not gonna stop me from giving my boy the second part of the one-shot of the last year!!

Also, im sorry for dissapear. But that gonna change from this moment, since i started to be interesed now in... some new Yandere things.

-

Yandere character: Talon Du Couteau

From the videogame/manga/movie/serie/book: League of Legends

Warnings: Comfort, and mention of previous kidnapping.

Part 2 of 2

Part 1 here! (im gonna rewrite this thing one day, but not today)

-

The red scarf is still on my neck, with a shadow of pain trapped within it, the soft fabric against my poorly cared for skin, and with a feeling of ambiguity as I try to go back to sleep. The sheets are still warm, with a woolly texture but sensitive to each caress, they reminded me of mom, of home, of my little brother, Ah, my sweet little brother, with his round face similar to mine in small features, with eyes of different colors, beautiful, with a pinch of serenity so characteristic of his pure soul that is capable of softening any heart.

My little brother is different from him, he is tender, kind, and very talkative, he is so talkative that it is impossible for him to close his mouth; If he was with my mom, he would talk non-stop to my mom, if he was with dad the same, if he was with me too, even when we left him alone he would talk to himself, at first we thought it was an imaginary friend, and the fact that he laughed alone during the nights only fed the idea that this imaginary friend was annoying, and even incredibly stupid for the whole family to think that a 10-year-old boy was capable of having a simple imaginary friend.

Although, going back to the scarf, I found it strange to think that he knew perfectly why I longed for a red scarf so much. I don't remember a moment in which I have mentioned it to him, or given him a clue about it, I don't even remember who I have mentioned it to in my entire life.

And despite my doubts, I feel happy, and I don't intend to complain about the gift on my neck, and much less about his head resting on my lap, his closed eyes and his regular breathing are just an absolute sign of calm for me. It was like feeling like he was weak under me, and despite knowing that wasn't the reality, it was a feeling that I found nostalgic in a certain way.

—Did you like the scarf? —he asked, without moving from my lap.

I barely had time to react, since at the same time that one of my hands tenderly touched his hair, taking each strand with extreme delicacy and tenderness and remembering that this was still my reality, he felt the need to ask again.

At the second question, I was slow to react again, and he lifted his head very lightly, resting his cheek again on my leg once his face turned so that I could meet his gaze with mine. His amber eye colors, accompanied by his poorly cared for skin but so soft to the sight and touch reminded me of the first night in which I genuinely felt safe with him, and I began to, somehow, feel that interest in him.

But his gaze was different,

—What's wrong? —I asked.

—You didn't answer me —he complained.

—About what?

I could see in his eyes a look of caprice, of a certain discontent at seeing me so distracted, I assumed that he thought I was ignoring him on purpose, and even though it was half true, it was impossible for me not to want to see that look of a capricious child whose friend doesn't give him the attention he wants.

That's how he was now, he was since last year, since that day, and the memory of how he saw me like that for the first time resonates in my mind; the way his face contorted into one of saved words, of selfish feelings repressed by his own stubbornness, and even the way he denied again and again that he wanted to tell me something, or confess something to me.

—Did you like it? —he asked me for the third time.

The shine in the amber that stood out in the shape of his face always hidden by his hair or that hood stands out for its unique shape; That way his face tried to appear more accessible emotionally, even if we both knew well how much it cost him to be honest at this level. It was irresistible to think that he really was just a child with me; wanting to know more, asking and trying his best to show interest.

—Are you talking about the scarf or about you? —I asked, in a playfull way.

He, almost immediately, apart from being surprised by the deviation of the subject, just buries his face in my legs once again. At this, I laughed, feeling how he tried to press his face against my legs, as if he really found the question humiliating.

—Sometimes it is impossible for me not to think that you kidnapped me. —I mentioned, before caressing his hair again.

He didn't move, but his face stopped pressing so hard against my skin. It seemed that the mention of that fact really made him remember the bad time we had gone through in the first months. But, the fact that I remember it is even funny to me in a way, as if the change of roles had really been important after last year.

—I'm sorry.

Hearing his voice pronounce those words so slowly, at the same time the silence seemed uncomfortable seconds after that apology.

—It's okay —I answered—, although I can't really consider it kidnapping since you left me back home after that night, right?

It seemed to have turned on that idea that was on him, as his body rose after those words, and as he sat back down on the matrimonial bed, his gaze seemed dull, genuinely thoughtful after such a confession.

—Sometimes I think… —he begins, his gaze fixed on the sheet —…, that you shouldn’t be here.

I stayed silent for a few seconds, I tried not to mention anything, nor feed that growing fear in him, that fear that I discovered so recently that it seems incomprehensible in many ways to me.

—At first, I thought that if I kept you captive here, you would be scared for a few months, and then you would accept that you would never see anyone else but me again, —he continued—, but… that night, when you worried about the wound in my eye, when you took my face in your hands and saw me with that worried expression, I could feel that something was wrong.

His gaze returned to me, and I could see that the serenity and seriousness that was always so well formed in him was breaking into small but visible pieces, before he continued.

—I thought everything would be fine, after all, i always hear that it was a form of courtship throughout the nation, —he said, embarrassed, scratching a part of his neck with his hand, —but, that night, I remembered the times I heard you cry, the moments when you begged me to go to your house to see your brother…

I knew where he wanted to go, so I had no choice but to crawl onto the bed with some speed. At the same time that his words escaped from his mouth with a desperation never seen before, and his face seemed to show the most miserable facet in its most human moment, I risked taking his hand. I wrapped my fingers around his, not letting him have the chance to escape.

—And… I felt so… miserable —he gasped, almost trying to swallow his own words—, that I only wanted to give you back everything I had taken from you.

With his free hand he used his hair to hide the half of his face that I couldn't see. I knew that slowly this was going to be a human agony for him, so I could only move my free hand, so I could touch his face once more.

With the shadow given by the sunset, accompanied by his hair, he could hide his feelings, his tears, his everything from the world, but for me, even just by seeing his actions or listening to his voice, I knew what was happening behind that very non-human seriousness of him.

I touched his face, gently caressing his skin, my fingers gently touching his closest cheek, before I went to the side hidden by the shadow of his face. He did nothing to prevent it, and after a few seconds, I could only feel how the tips of my fingers became wet when touching the scar.

—This is wrong.

—No, it's not.

My middle and index fingers brushed the edge of his eye, before dipping his face into the contour of my palm. He seemed to seek comfort in such a small and unsubtle touch. And even with his attempt to apologize or ask me to move away, I could only feel his hand press against the back of mine, and before he could move away or continue speaking, my lips collided with the skin of his cheek, and at the same time I could feel his breathing subtly cut off, I had to push his body over mine, letting me wrap my arms against his back.

The heat of his body, along with his face on my shoulder, and his arms being unable to surround my body, I only thought about how long he thought those things, and despite not being wrong, I could only feel a certain relief that his humanity seemed to become more and more visible with me.

He tried to stammer something, to tell some murmur or fear, or to intone other apologies, but he only found that my arms refused to let go, and my ears were focused on listening to every word that could become so heavy for him that it would lead him to this, but he just let himself be enveloped, letting his soul have a little comfort.

—Talon. —I called him.

There was no answer at the moment, so I assumed that he was aware of what I told him, but that he was too saturated to be able to give me an answer.

—I liked the scarf —I answered his first question —, but I will always like you more."

I know it's strange for him to feel how a living human body stays so attached to his in a protective way, as if he were not able to defend himself, or to support himself —and in fact this is one of the few exceptions to that strangeness— but it's impossible for me not to notice how inexperienced he is in feeling so human, in feeling so safe as to be able to let himself be taken in my arms and let all his excessively perfectionist thoughts in many aspects of his life go out like a candle flame against the wind, but, even with that insecurity, or that lack of humanity that we go through day by day, I can feel that his soul, at least for this afternoon full of uncertainties, can take a break from being a weapon, from being a tool to hope to be used, to be a murderer, to be a Du Couteau, and mainly, to be the blade's shadow.

-

[popawritter12]

Since I can't upload a one-shot (I'm working on some personal things), I'll upload the prologue of my new fanfiction

"Circle Papers"

Prologue -

In these paper circles, finely cut by you, by your hands always buried in those simple story lines, in that smile lacking any other emotion other than peace; It was almost stupid how crazy you drove me. Like a puppy chasing after its owner, searching for some clear answer about my most intrusive thoughts, but you, as always, showed me a side so hopelessly peaceful that for my mind, which always honestly farts when trying to communicate with you, I It was strange to find that your most painful experiences were repressed like a man trying to suppress the desire to feel love for life.

But I know why I always stayed by your side, like a metal to a magnet, I looked for you and I looked for you; but only in this moment, in this empty space, where the cold invades us and in which we admire the stars with a certain nostalgia and tears repressed in our soul, I find myself understanding the reason for the actions of these shadows, of these beings with possibilities. to rip out my soul and devour it if they so desired, as if, even on the edge of the precipice, I knew that at the end of the star-filled afternoon, they had a valid reason for giving me pain.

You asked me at that moment, what were the two of us supposed to do to survive? Maybe, I just felt stupidity in my shitty soul, and that's why I didn't respond, however, in these moments where we are together, I notice that look full of anger from a third party; a memory that, even with all the attempts to give you, my soul, a life that you deserve, they will always look for me, and at the right moment when my heart is exploited by so many grotesque obsessions, the lamb will remain with me. seeing; her dark mask, accompanied by a look so damned that it reminds me that, like the creatures of this world, my time is running out, and she seemed eager to stick her arrow into my heart, along with the black wolf, sharpening its fangs. ---which turned out to be the only white thing he could wear---, and seemed to be preparing to have the feast of his life, they only remind me that sooner or later, they were going to try to tear away his delicate way of seeing the world to adjust existence of my dear soul your taste.

Regardless of whether I manage to reduce the numbers or not, my time is running out, and the paper circle is cut by the scissors of time; It is getting smaller and smaller, and the hands of the clock announce to me the loss of my days.

Everything ends, everything comes to an end, and all the needles come together at least twice a day; These last moments, those creatures look at me again, with the cuts distributed in a regulated and even beautiful way, among their whispers I only hear that they continue looking for me, and that soon those disgusting grips that they imparted on my already damaged body and my mind. hurt by sleepless nights, it only left me the trace of a life already lost.

But there was you, with your softest caresses and your words always emphasized by an unconditional affection of friendship, your actions always keeping my thoughts aligned, as if you were the mother of all the ducklings of my soul, who followed you firmly at every step, trying not to get lost in this lake, which you seemed to know from the depths of the waters, where the most humid algae were located and devoured by fish of species not known to any of us to the most beautiful surface and known to all the curious.

But perhaps it is these paper circles that remind me that, like my time, it will be cut down until only you are left, on a flat surface devoid of reality, alone, as you were born, and also, as you were going to die.

-

[popawritter12]

I am curious can I request this scenario. What if all the darlings in the blood moon au meet.

Author's notes: Don't ask, I explain the reason for so much absence in another publication.

Dreams

The world of dreams; so deep, lost, and even confused in their own essence, they were lost, searching for something specific. Something that should never have been seen in itself.

The clash between claws and flesh along with the terror reflected in the faces of others; Is this ostentatious, at the same time disgusting dream, a simple memory of the group's misery?

—So… he's the new one, right? —The question escaped from the one who arrived second —, it doesn't look very… Good.

—I heard that the one who was chasing him was the same one who brought the demons to this world.

—Poor man. —The second hunter mentioned, observing the first, distant memories of his childhood take him back to the day when his demon condemned him.

—He had the worst fate of all. —-The dancer whispered, taking the porcelain cup between his delicate fingers.

—Who would have thought that he would have to become that demon? — Whispered the second arrived, before taking the plate in his hands.

The inveterate fight, stained by the strong emotion suffered by the first hunter, caused, in part, a great surprise on the part of the first.

—Seriously, you're a damn bastard… —The first one whispered, the edge of the blade barely managing to collide with the demon's skin—, not even Talon was as savage as you in fights.

The demon growled, a mitigating memory crashing into his delicate, corrupt mind.

Talon…that name, that nickname, that demon. Why was the hunter mentioning it?

—It seems you recognize his name, huh? —The hunter pushed the demon with a thrust, finally managing to cut his cheek, causing the demon to recoil—you must know a lot about the cult to recognize it.

The demon screamed something unintelligible, before taking his head; wounded, he remembered the countless books he read, the sleepless nights turning each page and researching with as much passion as that of an expert butcher tracing newly arrived calf meat.

—That… damn motherfucker. —his own demonic voice reminded him of what Pyke did to him, causing a scream to escape his lips.

—He's already remembering what he did to him.

—It must hurts him a lot. —the dancer whispered, sighing.

—Especially when someone he trusted ended up doing that to him. —The second hunter mentioned, his gaze traveling over the detailed outline of the demon's body, a grotesque vision for his eyes and a coarse memory of what today was the perpetrator of it.

Was this a simple punishment for them for their previous life or for the sins they had committed? They are not going to know, Or at least none of them know it and much less will the demon who was still committing with claws and teeth looking for an answer looking for a result to what he foolishly thought will end well to what some once he called a friend, now it turned out to be a super nightmare, it turned out to be the person who condemned him to this horrible life and now even in his dreams, which were the only moments in which he could remember his life as a traveling salesman who was guided by singing, it turned out to be a memory. more than what he now was: a demon, a creature that lost all connection with his human side and desperately searches for some trace to become himself again to find that lost side that was taken from him and cruelly killed by that demon.

—I guess we all make the same mistake, —the second whispered, before sighing with some pain, nostalgic, so to speak.

—Don't make me into your mistakes —the first one shouted, before managing to take the chain in his hands, with subtle preparation, he managed to tie the demon, although receiving a scratch on his left eye —, Talon chased me because he's a selfish bastard, if he decided to trust a Blood Moon demon, then he must have paid the price.

The dancer looked at him, a hint of disgust appeared on his face.

—How great did the price have to be, that took even his humanity with it? —The young man questioned, before lowering his gaze. The loneliness he felt throughout his life was such that it forced him to invoke a demon, to look for some humanity behind the superficial life of the stage. The dancer turned around when he saw the hunter, and only had that brave look that few others had. times in his life — and you know well that none of us thought that a demon could fall in love.

—You dealt with cultists —the first hunter complained, before kicking the body of the bound demon —, both he and I dealt with fucking demons.

—And that's why I thought you had a little more empathy —the third whispered, before continuing to drink the tea —, but I was wrong."

—Brave of you to assume that I will have empathy for a moron. —the hunter responded abruptly.

—What did we say about saying bad words?

—Talon lets me say them.

—We are not demons.

—AND?

As the argument between the first hunter and the dancer intensifies, the second hunter approaches the demon, who, in pain, tr

He tries to push him away by growling, but the second hunter settles down in front of him, ready to speak.

—Don't tell me you're going to try to talk to him.

—Stop being unbearable.

—Only when you stop acting like a mother.

—Shut up —the second hunter complained, before seeing the demon again—, hello, you must be the singer of that religion.

The demon growled, showing its pointed teeth, yellowish and with traces of fresh blood.

—I saw you once, you were known as “the angel of the Andes,” right? —The second hunter asked, his serene voice invading the mind of the corrupted singer —. Truth be told, it seemed like every place you went in Runeterra was unique because of your presence alone.

The second hunter brought back bitter memories for the poor singer, from the first places where people first heard his voice, to the last place he had visited. Bitter smiles on his face countless times, tears from the emotion of each visit, even anger at seeing the state of the people whose leaders were as selfish as that demon, like that son of a bitch who ruined his life.

The more he mentioned it, the more he elaborated or his way of telling what it was like for the hunter to listen to the jugs of pure love for music brings to life the bitter return to the past; knowing that he couldn't come back. And his soul begged to return, to return even for a small second to that place that had brought him so much happiness.

But he only managed to sob; His voice seemed to return slowly, but the clock in the distance announced the time of his farewell; the mental break was over, and now they all had to return to that comic tragedy of life.

And yet, in the distance, a man with a leather backpack on his back and a smile of happiness spread in his eyes as he hummed songs from his childhood, looks at the clock, a rustic shape reminds him of his home, of his city. , but, even more importantly, it reminds him that his search for his destiny was still in the midst of development,

And the farewell began; with a look of some anger, but a certain affection —which the few present there knew how to differentiate—was reflected in that look. They still remember how comforting it was to know that even for a second of their lives, they could rest, they could give their tormented souls a little break from their stressful and painful lives.

While the perpetrators slowly approach their victims again, misnamed "loves", they do not even manage to give words to the poor humans who woke up again.

While the dancer returned to see the burly man with a serene but at the same time always annoyingly calm face, a bitter but resigned grimace spreads across his face full of dark circles. The first hunter wakes up violently because he feels an extra weight on his chest; The demon had jumped like a puppy towards his owner, and when his cursed laughter reached the hunter's ears, he only clicked his tongue, annoyed, but helpless. And the second hunter observed the swordsman, the question of his dream comforts him a little; He knew that of all of them, he had gotten the least invasive of all.

And the last of all, the poor last of all, only woke up to see that, once again, the mysterious demon that had caused him so much pain was almost on top of him, asking again and again how he was doing, or why he was asleep.

It was strange, especially knowing that the dream seemed to revive the human side of him like he had never seen before.

And in a fit of forceful rage, the singer leaped again at the demon, his claws appearing again. And the cooker, the only one who didn't seem to understand the reason for the dream, woke up with a letter next to him; blood stains giving the shape of a heart while a smell of excellent quality perfume adorned with a bouquet of well-cared-for flowers send a chill down your spine.

Who would have put that there?

[popawritter12]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY YOU FANS OF THIS PAGE *points at you* AND YOU KNOW WHAT THATS MEAN???????

E X A C T L Y

Now I can do NSFW things

[popawritter12]

I need I-I need I NEED TO WRITE A YANDERE FANFICTION OF LEAGUE OF LEGENDS X FEM READER IN A ISEKAI FORM AAAAAAAAAAAAAA