#Horror Villains Drabble

[watercolorfreckles]

Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I understand if you don’t want to!!❤️

Hello! This has been sittin in my inbox for many months during my huge writing rut, sorry about that! I know you also gave this prompt to @the-modern-typewriter and she's been making an incredible series with it on patreon! I changed some things around because I don't want to in any way attempt some sad copy of her interpretation, but I was still inspired by the prompt itself, so I've taken some fairly big liberties to avoid any significant similarities! Hope that's okay! Also, please manage your expectations, I do not compare to the magic that is TMT's writing 😆

TW: Brief depictions of body horror. Violence.

The power blew out in sections. The lights dissolved sector by sector with a sickening whine and click–one by one–in approach.

The commotion ripped Eloise from the fictional world she was lost in, aged page corners still pinched beneath her thumb. Her spirited storytelling abruptly died behind her teeth.

Somewhere in the distance, one person shouted. Two.

Her gaze flicked behind them to the door isolating herself and the bound supervillain from the other sectors of the Maximum Security Prison for Powered Individuals or, as everyone called it, The Max. Seeing nothing but black beyond the bullet-proof glass, her attention snapped forward again to the supervillain imprisoned across from her. 

Was this the start of some elaborate escape plan on his part? Why did it have to happen on a day that she was stuck fulfilling her community service hours instead of being something she could safely gawk at in the newspaper from a distance in a few days? Her stomach did a nauseated flip. 

“What are you doing?” she blurted, voice quivering only a little. Her fingers tightened around her book.

The villain made a show of looking pointedly at his restraints. Wrists strung taut and chained to either wall, he shrugged an innocent shoulder at her as if to say “clearly, nothing.” He was perched on the edge of his bed like a bird, tilting his head with a matching sort of probing curiosity. 

For all the chaos outside of the room, Artisan had not a hair out of place. He appeared perfectly unconcerned, though as thoroughly trapped as ever: ankles shackled, arms stretched uselessly apart from each other. The power-dampening collar wrapped around his neck still blipped a faint red light, indicating it was active. 

The prisoners were rioting. Surely they couldn’t get too far? Containing the most dangerous of powered individuals was, after all, the express purpose of the facility…

The lights above them flickered, dipping the room in and out of inky darkness before settling into a dimly lit haze. Eloise’s breath stalled. The imposing dark felt like a threat, as if the lights could keep the monsters at bay. It only made a little sense, in the way that a child feels safe from the monsters under their bed as long as their nightlight is plugged in.

Except that these monsters were real. The most dangerous in the country. And she was currently feet away from the monster that made even other monsters run.

He hadn’t seemed so bad in the time that she’d known him. Quiet, impassive, yet twisting her gut with pity any time she eyed his barbaric restraints. The least she could do–while crossing off her hours–was to read the supervillain a story every few days. She couldn’t change his fate. Couldn’t make him more comfortable. What she could do was rattle off, sheepishly, about fictional worlds and impactful characters in literature and the way that a well-crafted story could transport you somewhere better.

A crash, gunshots, a scream. Tension racketed through Eloise’s shoulders. More shouts chased thundering footsteps.

Things were going very, very, wrong. And she was very much out of her depth.

Eloise jolted as something struck the door, her special-edition copy of Mary Shelly's Frankenstein falling to the ground and skidding away.

Finally, the lights cut out. With it, every noticeable piece of tech died. All of the energy felt sucked out of the room as if vacuumed. The camera’s blinking light disappeared. Alarms that should have been wailing cut silent. Speakers, keypads, and security systems, all dead. The secondary generator hadn’t sprung to life yet. That meant that this was more than a simple power outage. This was a calculated revolt.

 Eloise’s mind raced through a list of everything else that must have been failing. Coms. Sedative gas. Shock collars. Layers and layers of security locks…

Power dampeners.

Panic clamped vice-like and suffocating around her throat. Artisan’s collar was no longer blinking. 

She froze in the eerie silence of the cell, afraid of shattering the fragile calm. Her heart thumped, rabid, against her ribs.

Chains rattled and clinked to the floor.

Eloise bolted blindly for the door, smacking her palm against the DNA scanner while frantically swiping her “Volunteer Staff” badge through the card reader. When neither miraculously came to life, she resorted to banging on the door.

“Let me out, let me out! Guard!”

The door could only be opened by one person inside the cell and one outside simultaneously unlocking the security checkpoints. Even if the power were on, if the guard on the other side was gone…

The emergency floodlights kicked on, bathing the building in startling fluorescence. Eloise flinched, briefly stunned.

Hands grabbed her firmly from behind, yanking her backward.

Eloise yelped. “No, please–!”

The spot that she had been standing in exploded, steel door and concrete chunks collapsing into the room in a barrage of shrapnel. Something–no, someone–landed, bones crunching, at her feet. The guard who had last been standing on the opposite side of the door lay motionless. His blood puddled the floor, staining the soles of her Converse sneakers.

A horrified sound choked in Eloise’s throat.

Another supervillain strode in, eyes alight with hatred and something more–power. His lip curled, waving a mocking hand–engulfed in green energy–at the guard’s corpse. “God. I’ve wanted to do that for far too long. That one always got on my nerves.”

Artisan looked unimpressed. “You’re making a mess in my cell.”

Eloise’s breath caught. Hearing the supervillain’s voice was jarring. Artisan rarely spoke. Not that any of the other staff had ever actually attempted conversation with him… But even in news clips and YouTube videos, he carried himself with the kind of self-assured quiet of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. His lethal efficiency did more for his reputation than any words could.

The other man was a villain named William Frenzy, a telekinetic with a gleeful taste for violence.

Faced with Artisan’s startling calm, Frenzy… paused. Faltering on a tight rope he had moments before been strolling across. 

“Yes, well. It won’t have to be your cell much longer, will it? They can’t stop all of us.” He smirked at the dead body on the floor. “Some of them can’t even stop one of us.”

Eloise shrank back toward the corner nearest the door, agonizingly slow, willing the ugly shadows from the artificial lighting to swallow her up while the supers focused on each other. She was the kind of person that people tended not to notice; a background character in the perimeter of a story that the protagonist would meet once and never spare a thought again. She wished, then, that invisibility really was her superpower.

Artisan said nothing, his steely gaze fixed upon Frenzy.

Frenzy floundered beneath the scrutiny. The smugness buffered on his face. Finally, he huffed, crossing his arms. “I made you a nice and easy door out. You’re welcome.” He flicked a hand toward the gaping hole in the wall.

Eloise inched further toward it.

Artisan tutted, and while it wasn’t aimed at her, it shot a cold thrill up her spine. She froze, briefly, before continuing her tantalizing escape. She listened to Artisan speak again. 

“I did not need anything from you. I’ll be getting out regardless. You on the other hand…” 

Eloise stared as Frenzy’s skin shrank taut against his bones, the frame of him creaking and groaning like an old tree in the wind. The air choked out of him, fingers grabbing at his jaw as it stretched open too wide. The corners of his lips tore, slitting his mouth into a gaping maw.

The faintest of smiles graced Artisan's lips as he continued, soft as ever. “Say sorry.”

Eloise didn’t wait to see the carnage through, slipping out into the hall and running.

The other sectors were washed in the same sterile glow as Artisan’s cell was, blue-tinged and horrible, like the lights in a dentist's office. She kept to the edge of things as best she could, clinging to the walls and dark corners.

There was brawling in every sector—guards with weapons drawn mowed to the ground by the creatures they had wardened for so long. A villain fell as shots rang out. Another grabbed the guard from behind, cracking his skull against their knee. 

The smell of blood stung Eloise’s nostrils. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

She turned to flee down another hall, but two fighting inmates crashed into the doorway in front of her.

Eloise squealed, jerking backward into the belly of the room's chaos.

Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me.

Everyone was so occupied by their chosen prey, maybe she could fade into the background. Maybe she could–

Her heel caught on something and she tumbled, gracelessly, to the floor. It took her several moments to register the lake of blood seeping warm and sticky into her clothing. 

Terror blurred her brain in a white flash bang.

Disappear, disappear, disappear…

“Mm. What do we have here?”

Eloise couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. She clamped her eyes shut, another child’s illusion of protection. 

The villain opposite her chuckled. He ripped her volunteer badge off of its clip against her chest. Her eyes snapped open again. She recognized him as a ringleader among superpowered thieves. They called him Volt.

“Volunteer, eh? A pretty thing like you should know better than to willingly set foot in a prison full of men with nothing left to lose. It’s been a long sentence, darling. I could make excellent use of your volunteer services. Get up.”

Numbly, ears full of static, Eloise shook her head.

Volt frowned, electricity jumping to life in his palms. “No?” He reached for her, hand nearing her throat.

“Keep your hands to yourself or I will remove them.” 

Artisan’s voice was calm. His eyes were not.

The room quieted.

Spatters of red decorated Artisan’s prison uniform. A few drops dotted his face and he brushed them away with his knuckles, smearing the crimson across his cheek. Almost lazily, he popped his neck and stretched his shoulders, no doubt sore from the strain his restraints kept him in.

The villain across from Eloise paused, sparks still dancing across his fingertips. He regarded Artisan with the same wary caution as Frenzy had.

Before he'd been… Before Artisan had…

Eloise swallowed back the nausea climbing her throat.

Finally, Volt’s hand lowered. “She's yours?”

“She's hers. Step away.”

The man hesitated a moment too long. Artisan didn't offer a second warning. 

As if puppeted, the man's fingers raised to gauge at his own eyes. He screamed, the faint evidence of Artisan’s power shimmering over him. He clawed, next, at the skin on his face, peeling it back like wet wallpaper. 

As promised, his wrists crunched and bent, wrenching all on their own at impossible angles.

Eloise covered her ears, unable to bear the screaming. She felt sick.

“Stop,” she whispered finally. “Please.”

It did. The man collapsed into a sobbing, bloodied heap.

When Eloise managed to look at Artisan, she startled to find his attention fixed on her.

They stared at each other for a stretch of silence that itched. She imagined being forced to choke on her own lungs, or her skull constricting in on itself until it squashed her brain into pulp. For being so bold as to run, he might snap her legs and reaffix them the wrong direction, or splinter her bones to poke, grotesque, out of her skin. They always did say that his victims were his personal works of art, bodies twisted into shells of monsters.

He crooked a finger, beckoning her.

The edges of her vision swooped fuzzy and vertiginous. She rose onto wobbly knees and pushed herself to her feet. When she swayed, Artisan caught her elbow, slipping an arm around her waist to lead her forward.

He did not look back at the others, with complete confidence that no one would challenge him.

No one did.

Eloise was barely aware of taking one step after another. When they arrived back in the villain’s cell, the bodies of Frenzy and the dead guard, thankfully, were gone, though the floor was streaked with the drag lines of their blood.

She wrenched her gaze away.

Artisan’s hand moved further down her arm to her wrist, gesturing that she sit on his bed. When she shifted to do so, his grip tightened, tugging her to a stop. She frozen and tried to read his face. 

His dark brows were furrowed, suspicious eyes flicking from hers down to her hand.

He pulled down her sleeve and held her wrist up between them, revealing the power-blocking cuff clamped around it. His head cocked. He waited.

Eloise swallowed. “I’m not a super. I mean- not a super-super. Just a…..no one.”

“A no-one who volunteers at The Max? With a power-dampener?”

“They’re terms of my probation,” she blurted. “A thousand hours of community service here and a power-inhibitor for a year. I think they put me here to threaten me with where I could end up if I continue on like… Um…”

“Me.”

“A villain,” she clarified, as if that was better. 

Her gaze flitted from the fingers wrapped around her wrist and up to the villain’s face again. The harsh lighting haloed him, dimly silhouetting his face. He looked haunting. He looked lovely. A beautiful house, old and creaking, wrapped in ghosts like a bride’s veil and left to rot. 

“What did you do?”

“I…” Eloise felt very small. “I lied about being powered on my documents. So that they wouldn’t put me on the registry. When they found me out, I tried to run away.”

Artisan’s scrutiny burned her cheeks. He let go of her wrist.

“...What can you do?”

“Nothing special,” she said, cradling her wrist–wholly uninjured as it was–in her other hand. “It doesn’t even work most of the time. My power is sort of…blending in. Going unnoticed. When it’s working, I could stand in a the White House and people’s attention would glide over me as if I belonged there. Not quite invisible, but… It just tricks your brain into not thinking twice.”

Artisan’s eyes narrowed.

Eloise flinched back a step, stumbling back over her fallen book onto the bed. She stared at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, but she still waited for the catch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them? Trying to escape?”

The villain considered her for a long moment. He sat down beside her, and the hard cot creaked beneath his weight. “Mm. That’s just it. No one inside the prison could have blown the power-dampeners. They require someone with powers to turn them off or on, and the security is impenetrable. My team has tried. Besides, if this was a simple power outage, the inhibitors would still be on. But they’re not. This was premeditated–and no one imprisoned here could have done it. No one on the outside could have done it. So. Process of elimination. Who’s left?”

That was the most Eloise had ever heard Artisan speak, and she could only sit and listen intently–As he had when she’d read him stories. Her brain whirred in a jumbled jigsaw of puzzle pieces. 

“It… It could only be an inside job.” She wet her lips. “The heroes- The higher-ups- They want the prisoners to break out so that they can kill them. A clean massacre. Justified under the law. The world’s most dangerous criminals could never be allowed to escape…”

Artisan smiled and it swirled something in her insides. “A convenient way to get rid of all of the pesky criminals clogging up the system. I’d bet anything that there are 50 snipers surrounding the building, waiting to slaughter anyone who steps foot outside.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Artisan agreed, his smile easing into something softer; something with less feral teeth.

“Thank you for helping me,” Eloise whispered. “What do we do now?”

Artisan hummed. He bent down and swept up her book, dropping it into her lap. He laid back against his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head. The bloodspots on his skin and clothes glittered in the lowlight. 

“Keep reading. I want to know how it ends.”

Part 2

[slashingdisneypasta]

I need more Norman Nordstrom. That man is fine asf. I’ll gladly give him a baby as long as he keeps breeding me🫢🫠

Anon you caught me at the exact right moment XD I'm cold and I required something to warm me up XD

I'm warm now.

~

Norman Nordstrom x AFAB!SelfProclaimedSlut!Reader || Drabble

Plot: A sneak peak into a confirmed sluts regular hook up with the lonely old man down the street.

Warnings: Unprotected Smut. Use of 'Mr Nordstrom' rather then Norman. Creampie. And breeding (Its Norman, what do you expect). Unedited.

You always love visiting Mr Nordstrom down the street. His place was private without the stresses of your family, or work. Whenever you were there it almost felt like you were in your own little world with the old man, and no one else could get into it. Mr Nordstrom himself, was... always quiet. But you knew he liked the company; he didn't say it but you could tell. The more you came to visit, the more demanding he became of your presence.

Its cold outside these days but in here, hidden away in Mr Nordstrom's warm house on his cosy old couch by the crackling wood fire, you feel comfortable and toasty. Even the tips of your toes. Even the tips of your ears.

You're so lovely and warm now, you don't mind him taking off your pants all the way and dropping them to the floor.

With a grunt, he sinks himself all the way into you and you feel all your problems really drift away.

Sighing, you sink back into the worn cushions and take the dirty fucking with lazy pleasure. The greedy plunging thrusts, the slightly-too-big cock filling you up and stretching you out, anticipating the real fill later on- he never wears a condom; Mr Nordstrom.

You always loved visiting Mr Nordstrom- especially since the first time you let the lonely, hot old man hit it. At first it was out of pity, you considered it a good deed (A sluts job is never done (; XD Some may call you immoral- but you do nothing but good deeds! Thats what you do.), but then he fucked you so good you couldn't stop thinking about it, even at work (His hard thrusts, his larger then average size, the surprising stamina for a man his age, and the way he played skillfully with your clit when he was good and ready to cum- taking you over the edge right with him right when he wanted to), and you had to come back. This time, you begged him.

Now Mr Nordstrom is a very regular hook up of yours. Coming here, having a glass of wine with the old timer and then touching him was one of your favourite things to do. Especially when he felt like touching you back.

Like tonight- he was all over you from the moment you got in. You barely made it of the snow and through the door before he had you pinned to the wall with his mouth attached to yours; sucking your tongue into his mouth and feeling up your sides with his large hands. Hands you knew had killed. He was real pent up... but you made him wait. I'm cold, you said with a teasing smirk he could hear in your voice. Lemme warm up first and then we can get started, okay?

He had grumbled, but lead you to the living room where he had a fire already built (explaining how he could be in just a pair of grey sweatpants.) and the touch of the heat immediately made you sigh as you settled on the couch and asked him how his day had gone.

Frustrating. He complained, sitting down in his arm chair, that throaty voice of his and the sight of his clear outline in those tin sweatpants lighting you up inside. There was also a wet patch, so you were able to figure just how frustrating it had been.

You were frustrated from work all day... he was clearly frustrated from trying to jerk off all day and coming up 0 for 0.

Now he proves how badly he needed your hot cunt today, holding himself above you and pounding his hips into yours over and over; driving your ass into the couch and slipping a big killing hand up your shirt and squeezing a tit hard. When you give in fully, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drive in deeper, grind himself directly into your sloppy, slutty wet cunt, he gives a growl of approval. His mouth finds its way up from your collar bone, over the curve of your throat, and to your lips. Kissing you deeply again, like the dirty old soldier has never wanted anyone so badly.

The hand thats not under your shirt, eagerly taking turns rubbing and squeezing each of your pretty tits, trails down your leg to hook under your knee and unwraps it from his hip; guiding it upwards towards the ceiling. Now he he hammers your cunt, his cock absolutely covered in wetness and a squelching sound clear in the air coming from you every time he cracks his hips into you.

And you can just take it; lay there and accept the nasty dicking down you're getting for your Friday night. You love it.

When you can no longer kiss for needing to breath, you can hear Norman panting above you and you crack your eyes open to watch him. Smirk. Tell him you're *pant* *pant* cute.

Another growl comes straight out of his throat and he shakes his head, before the hand that was holding your leg up grazes back down your calf and your thighs straight for your pussy. And- god- as soon as he starts to fiddle with your clit; rolling his fingers around it slowly at first but picking up in speed, you cant help how your back arches into him.

Finally Mr Nordstrom buries himself into your used hole one final time and releases his seed as deep inside you as he can.

You always loved visiting Mr Nordstrom.

[ruenii]

I like fics where SJ is SY’s father just as the next person does but wouldn’t it be even better if Shen Jiu lost Shen Yuan?

Like I need to see that man absolutely distraught and crumbling to pieces when he finds his son, the warmth of his life, just, gone.

[snakebites-and-ink]

CW: Mind control, being the target of public hate

Vigilante threw a punch, sending an offender reeling backward.

Vigilante winced as glass broke. One more thing that would label them as “destructive.” Why couldn’t people see that it would do more harm to let criminals get away with hurting and taking from innocents?

Vigilante danced out of the way as another wrongdoer tried to hit them. Vigilante swept their leg out and sent their opponent down, then turned back to the other.

Just as Vigilante was winning the fight, the official heroes started to arrive, and Vigilante got ready to disappear. Working outside the law, they weren’t on the best of terms with the hero agency.

The hero approached, ready to take the criminals into custody.

“Well done. We’ll make sure they get to the proper authorities.” The hero gave Vigilante a dazzling smile, then turned to cuff the incapacitated offenders. And that was it. No complaints about damaged property. No reprimand about their methods. No demands about hero registration or “proper channels” or “leaving it to the professionals.”

It was what Vigilante had dreamed of when they’d started this gig. But after so long being treated as barely better than the criminals due to working outside the Agency, they regarded the amiable cooperation with skepticism and suspicion. Vigilante slunk away. No one followed. No jeers even followed. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t so disconcerting.

The next day, Vigilante woke ready for things to be back to normal, with the usual lack of friendliness from the Agency and the public; though a little part of them hoped things would stay…good? accepting? What exactly was going on yesterday?

Regardless, it was probably a fluke.

Or so Vigilante thought.

But as they went out to try to do their part again, their reception was peaceful—positive, even. They couldn’t say it was bad, but it was strange.

After a third day of this, Vigilante gave up on going about things as normal. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, but three times? They couldn’t possibly write this off. Something was going on.

Loath as they were to go to the Agency, Vigilante figured it was the best thing they could do now. If something was wrong, who better to solve it than the good guys?

As Vigilante entered the headquarters, they were cheerily greeted by the heroes who saw them. There were no attempts to get them to join up and do things “right.” The whole experience was surreal. Vigilante walked through the halls undisturbed, feeling almost as though they were in a dream.

They found Hero, the only official hero they were on pretty positive terms with. Or at least, formerly the only one.

“Something’s going on,” Vigilante opened.

“Well, we’ll be happy to help. What is it?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. People are acting—weird. They’re treating me differently, acting like things have suddenly changed without any reason, I don’t know, I can just tell something’s not right.”

“Oh, that. Don’t worry about it, this is things changing for the better!”

“But, it’s definitely not normal, and out of the blue…”

“Haven’t you seen the news?”

“I…don’t keep up on the news more than necessary.” The truth was, Vigilante avoided the news as much as they possibly could while still keeping an ear out for crime. They’d gotten sick of hearing about themself. Destructive, illegal, amateur, dangerous. Whatever new insult was cooked up for someone outside the shiny, beloved Agency.

“They’re singing your praises, Vigilante. You’re finally getting the right kind of recognition for what you’re doing.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s what you deserve, Vigilante. I could see it long ago, and now everyone else can, too.”

“You…?”

Hero nodded. “I just had to do something.”

“But why?”

“Watching you fighting on the side of good but being treated like an unwanted stain, doing your best and being harrassed for it by my own people, being dragged through the mud by newspeople who never fought in their life—I’d had enough. You’re good, Vigilante, and you deserve to be treated like you’re good.”

“So you—you did all this?”

Hero smiled. “Yeah.”

“Are you controlling the whole city?” Vigilante asked, astonished. They’d never known Hero could control multiple people or exert lasting control, let alone both at once. They’d only ever seen Hero use brief, temporary control of one person to nonviolently neutralize a threat.

“Oh, no. Only the most important people, the Agency, and the news. I let propaganda do the rest.”

That was…only slightly reassuring. The whole hero agency, multiple news agencies, and anyone Hero deemed “important”…Vigilante had never seen Hero do anything near this scale before. “Crap.”

Hero frowned slightly and tilted their head. “I would’ve thought you’d be happy.”

“I…I appreciate the thought, Hero, but you can’t just mind-control people to see things your way.”

Hero’s frown deepened a little. “Clearly I can.”

“But it’s not right.”

“The way they were treating you was not right. My job is to fight injustice. No matter who it comes from,” Hero responded.

“I can’t do this. And you shouldn’t either.”

“But Vigilante…setting things back to the cruel and unfair way they were wouldn’t be better.”

Now it was Vigilante’s turn to frown. “Hero…”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll see you around, yeah?” Hero waved in a clear dismissal.

Vigilante felt frustration welling up in them but didn’t know what else to do.

When they woke up the next morning, refreshed and recharged, Vigilante saw the world through new eyes.

They found they simply weren’t bothered anymore by what Hero was doing. Besides, Hero was right. The treatment of before had been unjust and things were better this way.

Vigilante wasn’t going to worry about it anymore, just enjoy the opportunity it presented. This was fine, good even.

The whole system worked better now: Vigilante was able to do their work without as much worry of interference, transfer of defeated wrongdoers to the heroes went more smoothly, and they were treated as an ally rather than another problem.

And, if Vigilante was being honest with themself, they enjoyed the positive reception. They were treated as a hero, despite not being a part of the official agency.

They did see Hero around, as well as seeing several of the other heroes more often, now that Vigilante wasn’t at odds with them. Vigilante didn’t try to convince Hero to change what they were doing again; they’d leave Hero to their work as Vigilante was left to their own.

They went about their vigilante work cheerily, glad to be a part of something good without being hated for it.

This was how things were supposed to be.

[nothingofvaluewaslost]

25. Monster

For @blackrosesandwhump 100 Drabble Challenge: Gothic Whump Edition. No. 25, "Monster".

Content note: implied violence and worse

~

He backs away until the back of his shoe scrapes against the concrete. He can see the daylight outside the mouth of the alley, eclipsed by a dark form.

Aww, did somebody hurt you?

If you make a sudden move, I’ll make sure it hurts.

I want to take my time with my new friend.

Normally, I would make it quick, but we’re nice and secluded. I think I have time to... indulge.

All the things the monster says to its victim to show how horrifying it is, before the hero shows up.

He isn’t coming.

I am the hero.

THE END

[raven-dor]

bucky barnes is concerned for you - drabble #2

my allergies are really bad right now and it got me thinking about how a certain super soldier would take care of you when you're sickly... so enjoy!! - ♥️💗 sickness, you and bucky aren't officially dating (sort of a flirtation if you will), slight angst ig, fluff ending (assume bucky can't get sick) this is for my sickly people!!

word count: 1,006

"Achoo!"

You groaned, wiping your nose and laying back in your bed, staring at the ceiling. God, this was a fate worse than death. Worse than any villain you'd fought.

Allergies mixed with a common cold were not for the faint of heart.

You were an Avenger; you should be able to deal with it.

You'd tried to push through, to continue with your daily routine, but Steve took one look at you and said you were 'out of commission for the week.' Whatever the hell that meant.

You'd frowned at the Captain's orders; your sparring partner was supposed to be Bucky that day. Sam had teased you, saying that Bucky would still be around waiting like a puppy when you got better. You'd flipped him off, storming off to your bedroom.

Things were comfortable between you and the super soldier. Neither of you had admitted your feelings, but they were there, a constant through it all. You knew he liked you, and he knew you liked him, and right now, that was all you needed.

Bucky hadn't seen you in days, and that was the way you'd like to keep it. He'd seen you bloody and injured, but this was a new level of vulnerability, one that you weren't sure he would want to witness.

The universe had other plans, it would seem.

"Doll?" His voice was doubtful, knocking on your door to ensure you were there. "You in there?"

"Go away!" You grumbled, covering your face with your hands. "Come back in two to three business days."

"You're freaking me out, baby." He sounded concerned. In any other situation, you would have considered this sweet, endearing even. Right now, you just wanted to lay in the dark in complete silence. "Let me in."

"No way." You laughed, triggering another coughing fit. "Trust me on this one, Bucky."

"I don't think I can do that." You were sure he was frowning, his eyes dark with worry. "C'mon, Doll. It's me."

You felt anxious. That's it: anxious, nervous, pathetic in a way. You wanted to keep this flawless image in his head, one that he could enjoy, not find repulsive. "I know."

"I won't think less of you or anything like that. Promise."

"You might." You whispered, fear overtaking logic.

"Try me." You cursed his super hearing, allowing Friday to unlock the door. His towering frame was virtually glowing in the hallway lighting, your cheeks burning as he shut the door. He crossed his arms, frowning. "What's going on with you, Doll?"

"Don't come any closer." You whispered, pulling the covers over your mouth. "I could be contagious."

He sat down beside you, scoffing. "I haven't gotten sick since 1944."

"What if this is the one that gets you?" You joked, actually, when you thought about it, what if that happened? "We can't risk that."

"Doll." He sighed. "You're worrying me."

You lowered the covers from your face, eyes watery as you observed Bucky take in your appearance. "I-" He stood up, and you watched in horror as he walked into your bathroom, turning on the faucet. "What are you doing?" You cringed at your own voice, nasally and sharp.

"Getting a washcloth." He turned the faucet off, walking back toward you. "Hold still."

You wished you were brave enough to say that he hadn't needed to say that, that he made you inherently still, afraid to make the wrong move.

"Okay."

He was gentle as he raised a hand, wiping the hair out of your face. "There you are." Your eyes widened, and he laughed, cleaning off your face with the warm cloth. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

You sighed, staring at the ceiling, his gaze suddenly too much. "Allergies. And a cold."

He frowned. "That sounds rough." He sat the washcloth on your nightstand. "Wanna tell me why you didn't want me to come in?"

Your eyes welled. "I- I didn't want you to see me like this, okay?"

He tilted his head. "You didn't want me to see you sick?"

When he said it like that, you felt silly, guilty even. Nodding, you sat up, fingers grazing over his. "I didn't want you to see me and- and lose interest." He laughed, actually laughed at you. You scoffed, glaring at him. "I don't know what's so funny about that."

He held your hand in his, kissing the back of it gently. "I love taking care of you. You know that, right?"

You nodded, thinking back to the many times Bucky had patched you up after a mission, the many times you'd patched him up. About how gentle he'd been, how comforting. You sighed. "But this is different."

"How?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because the way I see it, my mission is to take care of you, to comfort you, to-" His cheeks flushed, and you smiled, squeezing his hand. "Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

"Promise you won't get sick?" You whispered. "I don't want Steve yelling at me."

"Steve would never yell at you." He laughed. "But yes, I promise."

"Ugh." You leaned your head against the headboard. "Can you just- stop being so perfect?"

His laugh rang through the air again. "No can do."

You bit your lip, trying to hide your growing smile. You gestured toward the space beside you, smoothing out the sheets. "Care to watch some Criminal Minds?"

He grinned, settling in beside you. "I'm gonna order your favorite. For later." Pulling you into his side, you found comfort in his hold, laying your head on his chest as the TV came to life. "Crab rangoons and everything."

"Get an extra order of crab rangoons." You muttered, eyes drooping. "I know how much you like them."

He smiled, kissing your temple softly. "Get some rest, Doll. I'll be here when you wake up. Promise."

Your eyes finally shut, one last thought echoing through your mind as your exhaustion finally got the best of you. "I hope you know how much I like you, Bucky."

taglist:

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!

[klarolinefanficweek]

Klaroline Fanfic Week

About our event:

Hey guys! We’re doing a Klaroline fanfic event for April 2025! Each week will be a different theme and you can create as many Klaroline works as you’d like (fics, one-shots, drabbles, a few paragraphs, entire WIP chapters, aesthetics/mood boards, art, etc.) for each theme. We’re so excited to see your creations for the event!

Week 1 [April 1-April 5, 2025] – Mythical creatures: We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works with mythical creatures/folklore creatures. What if Klaus was a satyr or Caroline was a hellhound or maybe they’re being chased by a chimera...

Week 2 [April 6-April 12, 2025] – Historical: We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works set in a historical time period. Human, supernatural or something in between — just put Klaroline in a time period you find fascinating! 

Week 3 [April 13-April 19, 2025] – Crime: We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works that feature criminal elements like mafia, spies, law enforcement, murder mystery, grifters, etc.

Week 4 [April 20-April 26, 2025] – Science fiction: We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works with science fiction elements. What if Klaus was leading an alien invasion or Caroline was an insidious AI or maybe they’re both failed genetic experiments...

Week 5 [April 27-April 30, 2025] – Horror: We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works that include horror elements. Canonish definitely works here when you consider all the torture and supernatural villains! Or, incorporate another horror genre like slashers, possessed people or objects, etc.

To participate in the event:

For each designated week, post your works on tumblr and be sure to tag us within the post @klarolinefanficweek. 

Be sure to like and reblog everyone’s works so we can enjoy everyone’s creativity!

If we overlooked your works in our reblogs and recaps, please send us the links!

And feel free to post sneak peeks of your works for the event and be sure to tag us within the post @klarolinefanficweek.

Have fun and thanks for participating!

[tsukimefuku]

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

SatoSugu is canon and I can prove it

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA SENSEI +18! (fluff, romance, comedy, smut) mlist | higuruma hiromi, a brilliant professor who teaches Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure Law, is known among students and other faculty members for being a little... peculiar. Since you dream of becoming a criminal lawyer, you'll definitely have to endure his antics for a while - but, considering the odd charm he has, maybe it won't be as hard as you expected.

.˳·˖ JUJUTSU PARTNERS CANON DIVERGENCE AU +18! (multi-genre) mlist | collection of stories. canon divergent alternate universe where reader is a jujutsu sorcerer that ends up working for jujutsu high alongside nanami kento and higuruma hiromi.

.˳·˖ THE WORLD IS A WINDMILL (angst) mlist | a series of short drabbles (semi character studies) of jjk characters (yuuji, nobara, nanami and higuruma) based off of the song “o mundo é um moinho” from the brazilian musician and poet, cartola. 🇧🇷

.˳·˖ SAND AND SNOW (murder/mystery, action, canon typical violence) mlist | in the past few weeks, there have been multiple deaths in Odate city. Nanami Kento, a first-grade sorcerer, is dispatched to investigate the snowy city, unaware that this would be his final mission as a Jujutsu High’s student.

.˳·˖ NANAMI KENTO

4:00 A.M. (angst): nanami is your ex and calls you just before dawn to hear your voice.

Voice kink +18! (smut): suggestive drabble thanks to kenjiro tsuda’s voice and the chokehold it has on me.

Voice kink the reckoning +18! (smut): sequel to voice kink, in which nanami keeps teasing you even in the throes of it.

Blunt trauma (villain!nanami) +18! (angst, canon typical violence, smut): your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

Be good for me and… +18! (smut): smutty office drabble, prompt based.

3rd of July (fluff, comedy, suggestive): you surprise Nanami on his birthday after some undeserved teasing. collab work.

Scarred Nanami head canons (fluff, comfort, smut): Nanami has you on his side to deal with the aftermath of Shibuya.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA HIROMI

Whimperer +18! (fluff, suggestive): you wondered why hiromi always seemed to not be enjoying himself fully in bed, and the answer is definitely not something you expected.

de-stressing the lawyer +18! (smut) - your husband hiromi is pretty stressed, so you decide to help him out by giving him head under his desk.

In another life (angst) - what if reader met higuruma briefly before the culling games.

drowsy proposal (fluff) - silly fluffy drabble with sleepy higu.

kintsugi (fluff) - Higuruma, former lawyer, curse user, and reformed jujutsu sorcerer tries to make sense of what his life has become after the war is finally over.

smoke with me (fluff) - slowly falling for him while you make it a point to smoke his cigarettes.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGUNANA X READER

jujutsu sorcery, and how the legacy stays alive +18! (fluff, suggestive) - a take on what would happen if the throuple's daughter wanted to become a jujutsu sorcerer.

Daddies (fluff) - hiromi is trying to feed his infant daughter, but failed to realize no one can really reason their way out with babies.

Stop teasing +18! (smut) - You and Nanami decide to edge Hiromi to the verge of tears. Prompt based.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

lollipop kiss (fluff, comedy) - your workplace crush, kusakabe, is pretty dense when it comes to romance, so you try to ease things out with a bag of lollipops.

oh, you like that? +18! (smut) - smutty prompt drabble with hair pulling and soft dom kusa.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ GOJO SATORU

don’t get too scared, or else you’ll moan +18! (smut) - You and your boyfriend decide to go to the movies for Halloween, and things get a little out of hand — or on it, you might say. His hand.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ MULTI CHARACTER

that’s spooky af, honey (fluff, crack) - They’re not the biggest fans of horror movies, but they might make an exception just for you - feat. Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Higuruma, Kusakabe, Shoko

.˳·˖ NANAMI KENTO

Love language (fluff)

Kitchen fluff (fluff)

Scarred Nanami head canons (fluff, comfort, smut)

Babysitting (fluff)

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA HIROMI

don't cry, my love (fluff)

big dick higuruma (smut)

[descendantsramblings]

Just a short cute thing where Fem! Reader and Maleficent are dating and Mal just loves teasing her gf by turning into her dragon form in small

Pure fluff, thank u :>

“Short cute” is speaking my language rn. So glad to be back to writing long stuff but between these and writing a layout for a Dead Boy Detectives fic I needed a good head canon or Drabble 🖤

Also I wrote and edited this whole thing while on the clock at work so forgive me if something is a little odd, I HATE typing on mobile because it’s easier to get typos.

Play

Maleficent x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: watching her girlfriend study can get just so boring

Warnings: descriptions of Maleficent turning into a dragon but it’s really nothing (at least as a horror and body horror fan it’s absolutely nothing but I’ll warn you just in case), fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Pic because finding gifs of my girl (who’s almost always background or literally on Hades lol) is so hard

She can’t say no one warned her. Of course, Maleficent thought her girlfriend hung the sun, she was humanities own light source. All aglow when she was excited and warm enough that the dark fae was constantly convinced she had a fever. She was obsessed with her, but that doesn’t mean the rest of her friends lied when they said dating a hero kid could get so boring. Not that (Y/n) in general was boring, it was actually pretty easy to get her running around with the villains, but when she felt like being good? She could get obnoxiously good. Like straight As helping out in soup kitchens type of good. Which if the pixie was honest, she found that side of her girlfriend extremely endearing. Sometimes she even wonders if that sweet half of her is what saw Maleficent as worthy for her. Not that she’d ever admit to that out loud, it would wreck her image. If the fact that she could watch the girl complete mundane tasks in complete infatuation didn’t already kill her image. Or at least she normally could watch her like that.

The girl had been studying for an hour, rewriting her notes in a decorative and color coded way that she swore made it easier for her to study. “Rewriting it makes me think about it harder, Mali. Engraves it into my memory.” It sounded like an excuse to her, seemed to her that the girl just liked to look at pretty things. Not that she minded, whatever she wanted to do was fine by her, (Y/n) was her own woman. And Maleficent loved to be the pretty thing she was looking at, so who was she to complain about other ones? But Mali was starting to wonder if she and Tinkerbell had something in common. If she didn’t get her girlfriend’s attention soon she was sure she’d just fall over and just die. She was growing weaker by the second, she was positive of that. And getting the girl’s attention away from swirling pretty calligraphy into a notebook was proving to be impossible.

Every nuzzle to her neck was met with a playful push. Kissing her face just earned the pixie a “Mali, doll, I’m working.” It was infuriating. Why let her in if (Y/n) only planned on ignoring her? Her pale arms make their way around the princess��� waist, face falling against the girl’s back with a dramatic sigh. “I’m almost done, Doll. Just two more pages.” Two more? That won’t do, she needs more attention now. “Come on,” she drags the word out pulling away from her girlfriend with a whine. “Since when are you so good?” “I’ve always been good, Doll. You’re the villain between us, remember?” She uncaps a different pen, readjusting the notebook before her. “You don’t seem so good when you’re out running around with me and the other VKs. You ask how high when Uliana says just just like Morgie does.” It gets her a hum, pen tapping against the page in the speedy pattern. “Yeah well, if I make Uli happy she’ll do my hair. No one else here can braid like she can.” Mali laughs, “Fine, then if we can’t cuddle, let’s go see if she’ll do your hair. Give me something.” “I’ll be done soon.” She scoffs, lightly smacking the back of the girl’s shoulder, “You said you were doing homework.” (Y/n)’s eyes roll, sparing the girl a look over her shoulder, “Studying is homework, Mali.” Now her eyes roll, throwing herself back on the bed, “This isn’t studying. Studying is reading over notes, this is some other thing.” She hums, “Maybe that’s why my grades are higher than yours.” It’s a playful remark, the girl poking her tongue out at the pixie before turning back to her work.

She wants to play? Okay, they can play. She cuts a look to the girl, a pen cap held loosely in her mouth as she delicately drags a pen brush across a page. She was distracted enough. Turning into a large dragon took far too much energy from her, but a small one? One that could fit right in the girl’s lap? That was easy. Maleficent could barely feel it as her bones gave way. Shoulder blades and vertebrae stretching out to form the structure of wings. Purple scales forcing their way through pale skin, tearing their way into veins to beseen. She hasn’t let wings of any kind come out in so long, it felt heavenly. The stretch making her suppress a whimper. She desperately needed to do this more, instead of just when she felt the need to harass her way into getting what she wants.

Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, she flaps her wings, once, twice. By the third time, when she realized the sound wasn’t alerting (Y/n), she knew she could take flight. Fluttering through the dorm, she lands on the girl’s dresser, blowing a small puff of flames onto a candle then settling beside it. Waiting, glowing green eyes trained on the girl who had playfully become her prey. The smell of smoke would alert her, it always did. Lilac and smoke slowly and softly fill the air, making the princess look up, worried eyes glancing around the room before landing on her dresser. “Really? You’re that desperate for me?” Desperate? No, she was anything but that. While her eyes are away from the page, Maleficent takes flight again, swooping up the pens the girl was using before fluttering over her head.

“Mali, you’re just prolonging how long it will be before I can lay back and cuddle with you. You know that, right?” Her hand shoots up for her pens and the dragon flies closer to the ceiling. “This is ridiculous, you are being ridiculous.” Pens clatter into the wastebasket by the girl’s desk, the dragon swooping in to fill the girl’s lap before she can get up to retrieve them. “Are all fae this needy or just you?” The question is met with a nuzzle against her stomach, the dragon refusing to get too close to her skin in case she’d scratch the delicate stretch of flesh.

Sighing, the girl closes her two notebooks, pushing them to the side before she lays back. “If I take a little study break will you let me finish my work without whining?” The dragon crawls up her stomach, tilting her head to the side. Sweeten the deal. “If we cuddle?” Letting out a sigh, Mali curls up on the girl’s chest, her head laying just so close to her heart she feels as if she’s hearing the lubb-Dubb of it in her own head. “You’re not gonna turn back into a girl for me? Made you wait so long that I only deserve scales?” It’s not a complaint, not a real one at least. Her nails digging into the space between two wings, a glorious scratching sensation that makes Maleficent’s eyes lull closed. She was never above playing if the Royal wanted to play. She was always the winner of the girl’s long games.

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Otis B Driftwood x Fem!Reader || Drabble

Plot: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* The stars align and you manage to convince your Otis to (*cough* exploit your Otis into) going on a market date with you. 🌺🌻🌼🌹 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Warnings: Otis is a lil mean, but still actually really nice by his standards XD Allusions to a blow job at the end.

You see the colourful stalls and all the people as you pass by, and flowers and fruits and the promise of peaches and lavender soap, and immediately turn to Otis in the back of the truck. A little smile slips across your lips like running water, imagining what it would be like if Otis would come with you to the market. If he would let you hold his hand down the aisles, smell the handmade candles you picked out, carry your apples. Even if he didn't do any of those things, and just stood behind you like your vicious 6 foot tall pit bull- He'd be so pretty in perfect daylight. Could you possibly convince him?...

"Hell no." Otis laughs, cruelly, before you even said anything. Immediately you pout, poking your bottom lip out like a begging puppy.

"C'mon!.. "

His eyes were still laughing, shaking his head. "Never gonna happen, sweetheart. Never."

You give a huff. It was a very, very long shot. "Fine." Pursing your lips, you give thought for a moment. You still wanna go, though, it looks fun!... Maybe Baby would come? Then an idea hit you. You smothered the sly smirk that tempted your lips. "... I'll just ask Foxy then- "

Otis gives you a scathing, bloody, nasty look at that. Cranky. He knows exactly what you're doing, even in the face of your big innocent eyes and your clean nose (He knows you're a little bitch, sometimes. He might be the only one, who knows.). And knows you actually will invite his dumbass little brother. And Foxy will go. "... Fuck you, if anyone's going to this fucking market with you, its me."

A beam spreads across your face, holding his big scary hand in your lap. "Yay!" Otis groans.

And up front, driving the truck and witness to all this, Spaulding gives a chuckle. Mutters 'whipped'. Luckily Otis doesnt hear it though, because you're thanking him and telling him how much fun he's going to have !, and he's busy rolling his eyes.

~

As soon as Daddy Spaulding drops you off, leaving you with some money and advice to be back on this curb in 2 hours if you want a ride back home (Or to the place y'all are currently rotting away in), you link your fingers through Otis' and guide him gentle into the crowd. First thing you go for is drinks; its Spring air is still pretty icy in the mornings, and maybe Otis doesnt feel cold- but you do. And you want something warm to hold other then your cold-blooded boyfriend.

You're sweet and polite, a deep contrast to Otis' scowl and 'i'll stab you' eyes behind you, and get yourself a (Insert your favourite warm drink), and Otis a black coffee. Black as his soul, if he still has one (You're not sure.).

He drinks it all in a few gulps, boiling, and doesnt flinch at all despite how red his throat and chest get and the steam that comes barrelling out of his mouth after he chucks the cup on the ground. Like a fire-breathing dragon.

"Hot." You tell him, teasing with a smirk, before turning and leading him further into the market. To the stalls.

For an hour and a half, you peruse silently; only chit-chatting happily with sellers, while Otis stands back looking around, advertently ensuring you both get plenty of space with his satanist glare, attached to you by the hand that you never let go of once. Mostly because you want to be holding his hand, its strong and calloused and fits perfect around yours, but also maybe 20 percent because you fear if you let him go, he'll kill someone for looking at him wrong. And you have to help him pretend he's not a heinous psycho.

You smell candles of lemon and vanilla, and soaps of pomegranate & cream, chew on and suck straws filled with different flavours of honey (Strawberry, blueberry, chocolate. "Otis chews a straw himself when you hand it to him, an almost peaceful look on his face when the honey spreads over his tongue. "You wanna try?" you ask Otis, offering him a few straws to pick from. He grunts, and leans down to smother your lips with his; tasting directly off your pink tongue.), pick out a punnet of blueberries and a few banana's that look straight out of a cartoon.

Finally, Otis needs a break. While you're looking over perfumes, he tightens his grip on your palm, and leans into your ear from behind. "Come on." He just says, and you nod silently, following him through the stalls this time- until you get to a quiet spot behind the park bathrooms.

~

Happily, tiredly, you draw your arms up over his shoulders and around his neck. His big hands clutch at your hips, drawing you even closer. Chest-to-chest. "... you've been so nice." You whisper, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. A thank you.

"Heh... yeah, you're gonna haveta do better then that." He mutters, darkly, and you smirk. You nod.

"I know." Leaning up, you give him another kiss; a deeper one, with tongue. And he's so pent up from acting so good, and calm, he immediately presses you against the wall behind you; crushes your body with his and the cold bricks against your back. Takes a deep, rough breath through his nose so it'll last. "... I will."

"How about now."

Its not a question, its a demand. Would you expect any different from him?

Usually you don't like to do anything where people could catch you- not killing, not stealing, not drugging, not sex. You're the only one in the family with no criminal record. But oh, he's been so good today... and he is so pretty in the daylight... you cant help yourself.

With your eyes on his, reminding him you made this decision (Though, he definitely knows. He knows you.), you lower yourself to your knees. The plush grass is soft, and the zipper on his jeans is sharp. He sets his arms against the brick wall you were previously pressed against by him, his muscles flexing with his half-hard cock. "Good fucken girl."

You can still hear the market sounds on the other side of the toilet building, the excited chattering and the laughter and footsteps. "Maybe you'll have to go on dates with me more often if you want this kinda treatment. Huh, Otis?"

Shakes his head and rolls his eyes. But you catch the grin on his mouth. "Shut up and suck, Y/N. Fuck."

[brainmuncher]

Okay, so I know we have a handful of reasons we usually revert to when it comes to ‘moving Danny away from Amity for plot reasons’. While I was about to make lunch I thought of this one and now I have to share it before my brain forgets it.

What if the Observants get fed up? Like Danny has done one too many things against them and they are sick of it? He doesn’t respect them or their authority so he is a threat. But Clockwork is refusing to work for them on this. He’s digging his feet in and not letting the Observants use him, stating it's ‘for the good of the timeline’.

So they go another route and start bribing increasingly powerful ghosts to take down Phantom.

Only Danny has noticed a pattern with the new ghosts suddenly coming through the portal. Not only are they ghosts he’s never even heard of, but their only focus is on him. Eventually one of the ghosts that are hired or maybe even one that Danny has befriended in the past that has heard down the grapevine, tells Danny what the Observanats are doing.

And instead of grouping with his friends to figure out how to either take down (preferably) or calm down (Ugh do we have to?) the Observants, Danny in his ultimate wisdom… leaves. The ghosts that the Observants are sending are after him, right? So long as he isn’t near someone else nobody has to get hurt!

And so, without telling anyone why or maybe even completely bulldozing over his friend's reasons to stay, Danny leaves Amity to protect the town.

This idea could just stay as Danny exploring the world but not in freedom like Dani, but in an attempt to escape the Observants. Maybe he even bumps into her at some point and she is surprised and tries to ask ‘Hey, why are you in Hawaii?’ but watches in shock as he runs away from her. Maybe in these adventures, he inadvertently discovers another ancient artifact that he could use against the Observants but the information is threaded throughout the world. So he continues to travel and force himself to be amongst people so that he can gather more information.

Or this could open up some neat ideas for crossovers!

One idea is Danny becoming an omen of sorts that something terrible is about to happen. If you see Danny Phantom, you know that a really bad rouge attack is about to happen in your area. And the worst part is, Danny is happy to see that everyone is avoiding him. Not because he likes to be feared, but because it's for the better. And to his horror rouges are trying to hire him to terrorize certain areas. He's accidentally become a villain because of the constant ghosts trying to take him down.

Another idea is another hero catching on that Danny is being essentially hunted and is concerned. Although their attempts to reach out and help are not being accepted. Danny is trying to protect the hero from danger but they don’t know that. They just think he’s being stubborn. So to Danny's dismay, they try even harder to prove to him that they can help.

I dunno, just something different to think about. Please tell me if there are fics or drabbles already using this kind of idea out there! I would love to read it :>

[the-bar-sinister]

Fandom History | Media Literacy | Anti Censorship Whump | Self Ship | Villains, Monsters & Criminals Polyshipping | Shipcest | Age Gap | Enemies to Lovers Fandom Old | Fictive System | Fictionkin

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Bad person alert! This account is run by bad people! If you don't like bad people don't follow this account!

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Our drawings are for our own entertainment only. We do not take commissions or trades. You are free to repost our drawings or use them in any non-commercial way (avatars, phone backgrounds, etc).

Frequent tags:

Selfship

Villain f/o

whump prompts

blog updates

friend mail

villain posting

drabble

fanfiction

our art

Archive of our Own account

👉 he/they | queer | married | adult | elder millennial

👉 plural | fictionkin (serious/spiritual) 

👉 Muti shipper | Poly shipper

No DNI we block at will 🫡

Please do not send us asks about babies, pregnancy, or raising children.

Source fandoms: Resident Evil, Final Fantasy 7, One Piece, Metal Gear, Marvel Comics, Persona games, Slayers anime, GTA V, Great/Ace Attorney, Homestuck, Danganronpa, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Urusei Yatsura, Digimon, Girls Frontline, Steven Universe, Pathologic, Jem & The Holograms, Peter Pan, Welcome to Demon School, Disgaea, Sherlock Holmes media

non-source fandoms: Invader Zim, ABC’s Lost, Twin Peaks, Silent Hill, Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Vampire Chronicles (books), Doctor Who Labyrinth, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Final Fantasy (4-6, 8,9), Pokemon, Black Lagoon, Miami Vice, Bioshock, Bioshock Infinite, Prey 2017, Dishonored, Call of Duty, Red Dead Redemption, Frankenstein, the Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Gargoyles, Fallout New Vegas

Favorite genres: horror, mystery, thriller, noir, crime fiction, psychological thriller, supernatural horror, sci fi horror, gothic lit

Shipping, plurality and squick explanations under the cut.

Our ships: We are a polyshipper and a multishipper. We ship multiple characters together in the same context, in the same relationship, in the same fics etc.

A "ship" for us does not equal in OTP or an ideal relationship. We use the word "ship" to denote any romantic or sexual relationship between two characters, even when that relationship is unhealthy, toxic, twisted, and bad for one or both participants. Ships are a narrative tool, not something aspirational. 

Plurality: We are a plural system– many people living together in one body. We have been plural since we were children, and we have been blogging about our plurality for 15+ years.

Please do  not use psychiatric or pathologizing terminology for our plurality. We do not refer to ourselves with terms like DID, alter, or introject, and our system members do not have defined roles.

Our preferred terminology is: plural, system member, and fictive.

System members tend to sign or tag posts and refer to one another with a two emoji 'signature' rather than a name. Unsigned posts are understood to be a product of multiple members or a joint consensus. 

squicks / tropes we prefer to avoid

non-con of any kind (but especially underage non-con and non-con incest) 

pregnancy & babies (especially as the joyful and expected result of a romantic hetero-presenting relationship)

nonbinary or trans characters deciding it's better for them to perform their assigned gender at birth

Characters submitting to the will of a lawful aligned god.

Parental control and discipline being shown as narratively positive and correct 

characters giving up their careers and aspirations and 'settling down' when they fall in love

prophecies that are unavoidable and/or narratively depicted as inherently good and just

characters following the life-path set out for them by their parents/following in their parents footsteps

filial duty and filial piety in general

pretty much anything to do with traditional family structures, gender roles, and lawful aligned religion, honestly

wing whump / characters having their monstrous or inhuman traits harmed

monstrous or inhuman characters becoming human (especially when presented as positive)

soul destruction / soul death

characters being metaphysically kept apart for all time

any kind of 'conversion therapy' or metaphorical conversion therapy (especially being portrayed as positive)

We are: 

non-christian | magical practitioner | chaotic neutral

polyamorous  | largely aplatonic

trauma survivor | abuse survivor

Weird | Freakish | Monstrous

[neon-kazoo]

A Simple Mistake

(A little drabble based on a YouTube short I watched by brittanyrcoates, captions from the video at the end)

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was crazy.”

Sidekick swung open the door with a careless push. The metal creaked and groaned in response as they swept into the room. They spotted their mentor standing in shadow peering out the window, so they quickly approached to get a hold of the situation. They scanned outside the window, locating what they presumed to be the target easily; a figure partially concealed on the opposite rooftop.

It matched what the hero had sent in their summons. Meet at the old textile plant, new info places Villain on the rooftop across after 4.

“Is that him? Is that the villain?” They questioned while practically pressed against the glass. They didn’t want to risk taking their eyes off him for even a second, lest he take the opportunity to slip away and disappear. Like he usually did.

“No,” their mentor spoke, and it startled Sidekick enough that they started to turn around. “That would be me.”

A heavy hand landed on their shoulder as their eyes widened in pure horror.

Belatedly, Sidekick realized their mistake. Info placing Villain at the textile plant, meet on the rooftop.

“I guess I know who’s on the roof, then.”

Sidekick swallowed. Hard.

Villain leisurely glanced out the windows, framed with rusted and flaking metal. Sidekick stood stiff and darted their eyes around the abandoned room.

Unable to protest, they were pulled deeper into the plant and further into the darkness by the very same villain they were meant to be spying on.

Next time, they would be sure to read much more carefully.

(Video captions: The new sidekick arriving late and going to the wrong location/“Is that the villain?”/“No, I’m the villain.”/Before realizing they’re standing beside the villain they were sent to spy on/*realizing their mistake*/“shhhh.”)

[klarolinefanficweek]

Week 5 - Klaroline Fanfic Week

Hey guys! It’s Week 5 of Klaroline Fanfic Week [April 27-April 30, 2025] and the theme is horror. 

We’re looking for Klaroline-centric works that include horror elements. Canonish definitely works here when you consider all the torture and supernatural villains! Or, incorporate another horror genre like slashers, possessed people or objects, etc.

Create as many Klaroline works as you’d like (fics, one-shots, drabbles, a few paragraphs, entire WIP chapters, aesthetics/mood boards, art, etc.). 

To participate in the event:

For each designated week, post your works on tumblr and be sure to tag us within the post @klarolinefanficweek. 

Be sure to like and reblog everyone’s works so we can enjoy everyone’s creativity!

If we overlooked your works in our reblogs and recaps, please send us the links!

And feel free to post sneak peeks of your works for the event and be sure to tag us within the post @klarolinefanficweek.

Have fun and thanks for participating!

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Welcome to the first #Danmei Fanfic Nightclub!

Here's who's writing this week:

@talk-danmei-to-me

Ships: Ranwan, Hualian, Beefleaf, Wangxian, (Ximang pending)

Fic Requests: Smut, AUs, Angst

Will not write: -

Timezone: BST 7pm-Midnight

@fiftysevenacademics

Ships: Wangxian

Tropes: Fluff, Angst, Crack

Will not write: Smut, High School AUs

Time Zone: Pacific

@sleepyssnail

Ships: Scum Villain Self Saving System

Fic Requests: AUs, hurt/comfort, fluff, humor, canon divergence, inquire for more!

Will not write: - smut (may change in the future, but not right now), kinks, non con, or dehumanization

Timezone: EST 10AM—Midnight

@isolapyrena

Ships: I'll have a go at any 2ha, Yuwu, SVSSS or TGCF but my favourite characters for having their own new stories are Mei Hanxue, Liu Qingge and Feng Xin and I have no problem in solving romantic lost causes with threesomes.

Fic Requests: anything within reason. I like fix its best.

Will not write: - Anything tasteless. Not intentionally anyway.

Timezone: BST 7pm-Midnight.

@yiling-laozu-is-loml

Ships: WangXian, MingXian, XiXian, HanXian, SangXian... ok basically any M/M wei wuxian ship if I feel inspired enough + SongXiao! Also I wanna try my hand at junior trio/quartet of mdzs and other platonic ships like wen ning/wen qing/wei wuxian, nie huaisang/wei wuxian too so feel free to ask!

Fic Requests: Humour, banter, AUs, Angst, Major Character Death/last moments/mourning, fluff, parent-child relationship (not necessarily parent...like wwx and juniors type), idiots in love, canon compliant (no cql sorry, only novel/donghua canon)

Will not write: smut (unless i feel confident enough and in that case, switchxian or topxian), infidelity, animal death, miscarriage/child death, polyamory, F/M...i think thats it. Oh and anything with cql elements or jiang clan/jiang cheng positive (unless its chengxian)

Timezone: UTC+05:00...send me an ask anytime, i'll reply whenever my timezone allows me. Dont feel obligated to coordinate with my timezone!

@etherealiity

Ships: Ranwan, Bingqiu, Bingjiu, Jiuyuan, Tianjiu, Moshang, Wangxian, xiyao, 3zun, xuexiao, xueyao, sangcheng, cezhou

Fic Requests: Canonverse, AUs, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, comedy, horror

Will not write: - anything like bathroom kinks (watersports, scat play, etc.) or mpreg

Timezone: EST 7pm-midnight

@scholomancefan

Pairings: bingqiu, biggeyuan, bingliushen

will write comedy, angst, smut

cannot write fluff unless it's kidfic

Timezone: probably GMT 8pm to 9pm but consider it Aziraphale's bookshop because my availability is definitely unpredictable😅

@petitechocopie

Pairings: WangXian, RanWan, HuaLian, TianWang, YanShen, XuanXian

Fic Requests: School Day AUs, General AUs, Smut, Slice of Life, Angst, Fluff

Will Not Write: BingQiu (I never read SVSS)

Time Zone: 9pm-12am EST

Happy writing everyone! I'm hyped to see everyone's drabbles ♡ don't forget to use the tag #danmei fanfic club