#nine tails cloak

[servmouche]

naruto in that bone form or whatever he does when hinata gets her ass FREAKING KICKED by peen

i love you ms paint

[chaoticcosmos666]

Ya bro got a new tattoo today by the grace of a local artist I been following. Honored to be his canvas for his portfolio. I'll post when it's healed but y'all know it was gonna be anime related. I got my boy Naruto going into kurama 4 tails cloak 🤌

[nwluxx]

I seriously miss kyuubi cloak Naruto!! I wanted to imagine an older Naruto still struggling with his relationship with Kurama, where the nine-tails chakra seeps out when Naruto feels rage.

[ct-1477]

[yoriataki]

Himawari in her Nine tail fox cloak. I feel like her byuakgan would still keep its original lavender color. And that the charka would be yellow instead of red

[fool-tarnished]

"Remember me" - Chapter 2 - Kakashi Hatake x F!Reader

Pairing : Kakashi Hatake x Female!Reader If you want to read Yamato's version, you can find it here.

Warnings : Memory loss

Inspiration : Remember me - d4vd

Words : ~ 4000

A/N : Hello there ! Here's the second chapter. It might not follow the same exact timeline and events as the books but i still hope you will enjoy it. And sorry for the mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker.

← Previous Chapter - Next chapter →

“He’s surprising, and he’s progressing astonishingly fast.” Before you stood what seemed to be a training ground, from where you could observe a figure dressed in orange at a distance. You couldn’t clearly make out the person in question, nor the two others standing alongside them. One seemed to be wearing a pinkish outfit, and the other a blue-and-white one.

Your vision wasn’t perfectly clear, but at least you could distinguish the colors and hear sounds. They appeared to be sparring, likely at the request of the man beside you, who held a book in his right hand.

“We’ll be heading out on a mission soon, [Y/N]. It shouldn’t take long—it’s just a C-rank mission.” His voice was so gentle, so calm, so reassuring. He was much taller than you, but his face was obscured by a mask, and what you could see most clearly was his silver-grey hair. Finally, he glanced up from his book and turned his gaze toward you.

“You’re awfully quiet today. Are you worried about him?” he asked at last, stepping a little closer and closing his book. “I promise he’ll come back safe and sound.”

Who was he talking about? Turning your attention back to the training ground, you noticed that the three ninja had vanished. A breeze began to rise, and the once-blue sky had turned grey. Where had they gone?

A cold hand suddenly rested on your shoulder, and with a start, you turned to face the silver-haired man. His hand was covered in blood, his forehead protector slightly askew, and his uniform had shifted from light green to a deep crimson across most of his chest.

“Where were you? Where were you when they attacked us?” This voice no longer sounded like the one you’d heard earlier, and now you could see other figures lying motionless on the ground behind him. Frozen in place, you briefly recognized the orange outfit you had seen before, just as the man before you spoke again.

“You promised to protect him. You promised me you’d come back.” Closing your eyes and clutching your head in your hands, you tried to scream, but no sound escaped your lips. It was as if something had rendered you mute, as if something was preventing you from doing anything but witnessing the scene unfold before you.

After a few seconds, you decided to open your eyes again. They were all gone. There was nothing left but a vast field, dimly illuminated by the moonlight. Panting, you turned slightly, searching for a sign of anyone—or anything.

Until a much deeper voice echoed around you. “There’s no hope left, and those you care for will die because of you.” A masked man dressed in a long black cloak appeared before you. Only one eye was visible, but it was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Consider the choice I’m about to offer you as a gift.” Silence fell, broken only by a soft chuckle escaping from under his mask.

“Will you take care of the Nine-Tails’ jinchūriki yourself? Or shall I do it for you?”

From this dark silhouette emerged a hand holding a kunai. As you took a hesitant step back, the man suddenly grabbed your face, forcing it toward the weapon, which he positioned just before your eyes.

“You’re going to have to choose—or I’ll choose for you.”

With a gasp, you opened your eyes abruptly and sat up in bed, struggling to calm your breathing. Holding your head in your hands, you didn’t even notice at first that you weren’t alone in the room. In truth, you didn’t even know where you were.

“You’re finally awake.”

Slowly turning your gaze toward the person who had just spoken, you let out a soft sigh.

“Where am I?” you asked, trying to shake off the vivid images lingering in your mind.

You’d been unconscious for several days, giving Tsunade enough time to examine your condition more closely. She hadn’t overlooked the blow to your head or the particularly high likelihood of memory loss that could result. Other findings in her analysis had also concerned her, but for now, it was time to assess how much of your memory had been affected.

“You’re in Konoha. You fainted when we found you.” She approached the chair to the right of your bed and sat down.

“You probably have a lot of questions, but first, I’d like you to tell me everything you remember. From the beginning. Then I’ll take the time to explain everything.”

Questions swirled in your mind, and you hesitated for a long moment before deciding to trust her and recount the events of the past few months in detail.

“I see. And everything before your time with that old woman is a blank to you?” she asked after hearing your story.

Nodding, you stared at your hands for a moment. “It feels like it’s the only thing I’ve ever known, and yet like my whole life has vanished.”

She made a sound of agreement, leaning back in her chair. “I imagine this won’t be easy for you. Neither relearning everything nor trusting us. But if you choose to trust us, we’ll help you regain your memory.” She paused briefly, observing your expression. “If you agree, I’ll ask a few… people from your past to help you with this. And I’ll leave you a notebook and pen in case anything comes back to you.”

Glancing at her, then at the notebook on the nightstand, you nodded. “And what about the treatment Yubaba was giving me?”

At this, you noticed her face tighten, as if masking some irritation. “I’ll provide you with a different treatment from now on. It will be more effective and help you see through this fog more clearly.”

“Hmm. And how is she?”

Tsunade rose, not meeting your eyes this time, and began walking toward the door. “She passed away a few days ago. There was nothing more we could do for her.”

And with those parting words, she left you alone in the room.

________________________________________

After a lengthy discussion with you, the Hokage had summoned former colleagues, primarily the sensei of Naruto’s friends, to inform them of the situation and stress the importance of keeping the information under wraps for the time being. She also took the opportunity to share her concerns regarding the results of your medical exams, suggesting that the issue might not be limited to simple memory loss. For this initial meeting, she had not summoned Kakashi. He was scheduled to meet her in a few hours, after she finished reviewing the latest mission requests.

The Copy Ninja arrived as requested, having spent most of his day with Naruto and Sakura. Between a few chapters of the newest volume of Icha Icha, he had thoroughly enjoyed his time reconnecting with his two students. He slipped away the moment Naruto mentioned the idea of him treating them to ramen and headed straight to the Hokage’s office.

“Lady Hokage?” he asked simply.

“Oh, Kakashi.” Tsunade lifted her head from her papers, setting her pen on the desk. “Everything went well with Naruto and Sakura?”

“They’ve improved tremendously. I have to admit—they’ve become quite strong.”

She offered a faint smile and stood, moving around her desk to lean against it as she faced him.

“I wanted to tell you something, Kakashi, before you hear it from someone else.”

The sensei regarded the Hokage without a word, waiting for her to continue.

“I sent a special ops team to search for [Y/N] a few months ago.”

The silver-haired ninja’s expression began to tighten, his mask doing little to conceal the tension in his face. His fists clenched in his pockets as dread crept in. He braced himself for the worst. Having already lost so many people he cared about, he found it hard to hope for a better outcome. But if something had happened to you… it would be one loss too many.

“She’s safe and sound. I’ve been taking care of her at the hospital…”

Tsunade noticed the visible relaxation in his features, and even the single eye visible through his mask seemed brighter. Though Kakashi didn’t express his emotions openly, she could tell he was both relieved and surprised. He likely hadn’t expected to hear such news.

“That’s… That’s excellent news.”

“But there are two issues. I wanted to speak with you directly about them before you decide to visit her.”

“Hmm?”

Kakashi’s thoughts raced. Relief washed over him at the confirmation of your safety and return to Konoha. Now, the only thing he wanted was for this conversation to end so he could see you. After living with only the memory of you for so long, every moment that delayed your reunion now felt like an unbearable torture.

“She suffered a severe head injury. She’s lost her memory.”

Kakashi’s gaze froze. He struggled to process the information.

“The second issue,” Tsunade continued, “is that she was essentially poisoned for several months. I was able to identify and neutralize the toxin during my tests, but… this was no ordinary concoction. It was designed not only to sustain her memory loss but also to cause severe headaches—and likely fainting spells. We need to remain vigilant. We don’t know the true intent behind this, or who orchestrated it. That’s why I urge caution, Kakashi.”

At these words, the Copy Ninja lowered his gaze to the floor. He needed a moment to process the flood of good and bad news. Your return filled him with joy, but your condition and the uncertainties surrounding it weighed heavily on him. Who had done this to you? Why? What were they planning?

“I know this is a lot to take in at once,” Tsunade said gently. “I’ll do my best to help her regain her memories. And… Naruto must not know about this for now.”

Kakashi remained silent for a few seconds before standing straight.

“When will you inform him that she’s back in Konoha?”

“If we can keep this under wraps until she regains some of her memories, that would be ideal. Naruto is too unpredictable, and I’m worried about how he might react to all of this.”

The silver-haired ninja nodded.

“Thank you, Lady Hokage.”

With those final words, he left the room, leaving Tsunade alone.

________________________________________

You were standing near a young boy with blond hair. He sat on a swing, looking despondent, his goggles pushed down to the lower part of his forehead. Incessant murmurs drifted toward the two of you, and the boy could no longer hide his sorrow.

“Don’t listen to what they’re saying,” you said, crouching down in front of him and attempting to give him the most reassuring smile you could muster. Seeing him like this seemed to tear you apart from the inside, and your eyes betrayed the depth of your emotions.

“Don’t forget what’s in here.” You pointed to the spot over his heart as you spoke, and he straightened slightly, meeting your gaze.

What was peculiar about this dream was that it was clearly you—your younger self—but at the same time, it wasn’t entirely you. You were observing the scene from afar. The young boy didn’t seem familiar, and yet, there was an undeniable closeness between you. As you continued watching your younger self trying to comfort the boy, silence settled over the moment.

“Wake up,” growled a voice, breaking through the quiet, as a hand suddenly pressed against your face.

Opening your eyes and sitting up in bed, you rubbed your face for a moment before letting out a sigh. Glancing around the room, you noticed it was bathed in an orange hue. The sun was setting, and it seemed you’d dozed off after Tsunade’s departure. Casting a brief glance at the window, you jumped in surprise upon seeing a man crouched there.

The Hokage must have left the window open when she left, but you certainly hadn’t expected anyone to perch there.

Frowning slightly, you took a moment to study the man before you. He had gray hair, a forehead protector covering one eye, and a mask obscuring most of his face. A book rested in his hand, but his gaze was fixed on you, silent and unwavering.

Despite your bewildered expression, he didn’t move an inch.

“What are you doing there? You know there’s a door to get in, right?”

At that, Kakashi gave you a slightly surprised look before letting out a soft chuckle, followed by a sigh. Deciding to enter the room properly, he closed the window behind him.

“Still as sharp-tongued as ever, I see,” he murmured, prompting you to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

Seeing your expression, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“You’ve been sleeping for quite a while.”

Leaning back slightly, you frowned deeply.

“Were you watching me sleep?!”

“I was reading, too,” he replied casually.

You froze, your expression a mix of fear and disbelief. It reminded him of the old days—those countless times he’d shown up unannounced on your training field or terrace to invite you along or to test out new techniques with him. Starting over from the beginning was going to be hard, and it hurt him deeply. Perhaps the hardest part was hiding his true emotions from you: the gnawing desire to hold you close, the way he yearned for your face, your smile, your scent, your [Y/HC] hair, and even your sharp sense of humor.

“You’re kind of scaring me,” you muttered.

“No—No. It’s just that I wanted to—Hmm, how do I put this?”

“You’re not helping your case here.”

“Uh… The Hokage must have explained what’s happening to you, right?”

“Ah.” You exhaled deeply and visibly relaxed. “You’re one of the people supposed to help me get my memory back, aren’t you?”

He hesitated for a moment, tucking his book into his pocket.

“You could say that.”

There was something familiar about him—he reminded you of the figure you’d seen in the dream when you first arrived.

“And you are?”

Though Kakashi remained outwardly stoic, your question had struck a chord. Pretending as though you didn’t know each other—acting as if everything you’d shared had never existed—was agonizing.

“Hmm, I’m Kakashi. We… worked together for a few years,” he said, a faint smile forming under his mask as you closed your eyes for a moment.

“Oh. I see.” You paused briefly, while the copy ninja silently waited. “I’m sorry. Everything before waking up at that old woman’s place is completely gone from my memory.”

Kakashi moved toward the chair beside your bed, sitting down with his hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees.

“Would you mind telling me what you do remember?” he asked, his tone calm and steady. “After that, I’ll answer whatever you’d like to know, if you’re okay with it.”

There was a kindness and gentleness to him, albeit with a strange demeanor. Yet, he didn’t exude any sense of danger, and his presence didn’t bother you. Nodding, you began recounting the past few months you had spent with the old woman.

Despite the length of your story, Kakashi showed no signs of boredom. He listened intently, committing to memory the details that stood out as peculiar—not to question you, but to analyze the “who” and “why” behind your condition. Certain inconsistencies nagged at him, prompting a mental note to discuss them with Tsunade later. On your end, you were entirely unaware that anything was amiss, much less that the more troubling parts of your tale warranted skepticism.

Hearing your voice brought Kakashi immense solace. After years haunted by your absence and silence, he cherished this moment, even if it wasn’t unfolding the way he had hoped.

“You haven’t had even a fragment of your past return? Not even a vague memory?” he asked after you finished, his voice tinged with faint hope.

You hesitated, recalling the strange dream you’d had—a dream with a figure who vaguely resembled him. But did you want to share it? Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, especially considering the direction that dream had taken.

“No… unfortunately not,” you sighed, meeting his gaze. “You mentioned earlier that we worked together. Did we know each other for a long time?”

Kakashi scratched the back of his head. Was he nervous? You found it hard to tell. He was calm overall, but certain gestures hinted at underlying emotions. It was difficult for you to pinpoint exactly what, as you’d only been speaking for a short time.

“Quite a while, yes,” he said simply.

You blinked, expecting a more elaborate answer. After a few seconds, you spoke again.

“Just ‘quite a while’?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh… Were we friends, then? Or just coworkers?”

“Oh.”

Kakashi paused, placing a hand on his chin in thought. You had asked the question so directly that he wasn’t sure how to answer truthfully. The truth was, your relationship had always defied easy definition. It danced on the line between friendship and something more, a connection that could shift with a single gesture or moment. One day, you were distant; the next, inseparable. How could he explain that to you, let alone summarize it when he himself had never managed to define it?

“I think I’ll give you that answer later,” he finally said.

What did he mean by that? Was he unable to say whether you were friends? Or was it something else entirely? The thought made your cheeks flush furiously, a reaction Kakashi didn’t miss. His visible eye widened in mild panic, and he waved his hands in front of him.

“Wait—that’s not what I meant! It’s just… It’s not something I can explain with a single word.”

“So, not just coworkers.”

“Not just coworkers, no,” he confirmed.

A brief silence followed before Kakashi cleared his throat and shifted the conversation.

“There’s someone else I need to tell you about. He won’t be as delicate when he sees you again.”

Intrigued, you focused all your attention on him.

“Let me tell you about Naruto.”

And so, you spent hours talking about the young ninja who was Kakashi’s student, and who, according to him, was like a younger brother to you. Discussing Naruto came more easily to Kakashi than addressing your own relationship. He hoped that you might remember a little about the boy before they broached the thornier subject of your shared past—a topic that was both painful and rich with memories Kakashi silently prayed you would recover someday.

________________________________________

Kakashi returned home late that evening. Seeing you again had lifted part of the burden he had carried since your absence—a deep, relentless pain that had built up over the years, piling onto so many others. But this time, the outcome was different. You were alive, and that simple fact was enough to unsettle him. Yet the thought that you had forgotten everything, that you didn’t remember him or your shared history, left him feeling lost. How could he possibly start over from scratch?

Sitting on his bed, he let out a long sigh. Should he wait a little longer before telling you everything? Perhaps it was better to remain silent, to give you time to find your footing—or maybe never tell you at all. Part of him wondered if you might actually be safer without the memories of him, of what you had shared, and of what you had seen in him.

His mind swirled with endless possibilities, weighed down by uncertainty. His heart, however, whispered insistently that he had to reclaim what you once had, the bond you had built together. The emotions he tried so hard to contain threatened to spill over, urging him to hope, to dream of rebuilding what fate seemed determined to erase.

Running a hand through his silver hair, Kakashi finally lay down, staring at the ceiling with eyes clouded by fatigue and doubt.

“Maybe it’s better to wait a little longer…” he murmured to himself.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, to quiet the storm of his thoughts.

“If only you could remember everything about your past… and about us.”

In the stillness of the night, his words lingered, carrying a fragile mix of resignation and hope.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 234

More of the Tiamat Au? More of the Tiamat Au! 

Sharing a body was strange. Ten limbs split between the nine of them- thirteen if one counted the tails and seventeen if one counted the fact that their cloak… skirt… whatever could mimic the wings of their other form. 

One which they would change back to after a few moments- there was much less stumbling when it was all fours. Not to mention that if not for the tails they’d have easily toppled over with how many arms they had making them slightly top heavy. Okay more than slightly, it was taking a bit to adjust. 

Honestly the fields of wheat and other crops did nothing to hide them with how tall even this body was, but it was still better than nothing, and they were using the fact it was the middle of nowhere to their shared advantage. 

At least the humanoid- not human, even now their shared power thrummed through the air, leaking from them- form was smaller than their true draconic one. Well, perhaps they shouldn’t call it their true form, when they were once all human, halfa and liminal alike, but they’d long since stopped being such. So perhaps it was in fact true to call the form they had become as their normal state now. 

Actually, could they even separate now? Or had their power melded together so much that it was impossible now, and an attempt would end them? It would at the very least crack their core- 

“What the fuck.” 

Their head lurched, a little too far if the jolt of pain was anything before it melted away. They were all too used to moving their own necks separately. But all of them agreed that discovery could not happen-

Oh.

It was a child. A preteen with red-orange hair, blue-green eyes, expensive clothing, and most damming of all, large swaths of bruising across his arms. Bruising that did not come from usual play, and looked far too much like hand prints for any of their comfort. 

Someone had very much not been taking care of this child. And that really made them quite angry. 

[doonarose]

New fic!!! The big one that I've been thinking about and writing for ages and I really, really, really want it to be good! Chapter one is here! The next nine chapters are written and will drop about once a week!

CW/TW: Explicit sexual content in later chapters. Minor human injuries, major animal injuries, car accident in this chapter.

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are from different worlds with little in common and no reason for their lives to ever intersect. But then one dark, cold, miserable night their meeting becomes unavoidable as they narrowly avoid their cars colliding. They're left with an injured wild animal and the inevitability of starting to fall for each other. But, of course, it isn't as simple as that...

A/N: Hoo boy. This story has been percolating for seven and a half months. It's my first try at a human AU and I first came up with it as some sort of coping mechanism after I hit a kangaroo in my brand new car and had to limp another four hours home without a headlight.

I never would have thought about trying to write it properly without the needling, annoying, and cheerleading of the GOAD writer's chat! Extra special shoutouts to u/harlotofupdog and u/Paperclip_ninja for being at the forefront of the push for 'deer fic' and then agreeing to beta without realising that would also mean listening to me bemoan every last little decision and detail for weeks on end! Thanks also to u/FuzzyGoblinoid for even more cheerleading and also making the lovely header art!

Nine chapters are already written and the whole story mapped out so I will be updating about once a week with those and hopefully stay ahead! There are some feelings to be had, but do not fear, the smut is closer than you think and, I promise, everything will work out in the end!

@goodomensafterdark

Excerpt It is a truly horrendous winter’s night, cloaked in pitch black darkness and pelting rain. Howling winds make the little white hatchback shudder and tilt as it rolls along, Aziraphale grasping the steering wheel tighter as he wills the tyres to maintain their grip on the road.

The night is all the more miserable for being a Monday, in all likelihood the start of a fairly rotten week, and a teeth-chattering eight degrees Celsius — both inside and outside the car because, of course, Aziraphale’s heating hasn’t worked since December. He should have left London earlier and been home already, snuggled under the blankets with a good book and a cup of tea. But Sharron, the bookshop owner, had called to say she was stuck on the other side of town and asked him to work back. It hadn’t occurred to him to say no.

Which is why he is now squinting through the windscreen as the wipers squeak back and forth and the rain starts to come down even harder. The first crack of lightning makes him jump in his seat and illuminates the dense woodland streaming past on either side. It also reveals that the twin gleaming tail lights ahead belong to an old-fashioned, sleek beast of a car.

Aziraphale eases off the accelerator to put a few more metres between him and the vehicle ahead and grumbles as the digital clock ticks past nine. They are both driving at well over the speed limit but Aziraphale knows these roads, knows his way home. He so desperately wants to be there already, instead of here, miserably holding his whole body tense against the onslaught of weather outside.

The road curves and the hatchback’s tyres slip for a moment, hydroplaning and skidding towards the wrong side of the road before Aziraphale regains control around the next turn. He really, really just wants to be home and he feels his bottom lip start to wobble involuntarily.

Around another curve, this one tighter, but Aziraphale knows it well. Only another dozen miles or so and —

The tail lights ahead are suddenly too close and too red — the hulking car’s brake lights flash and then it’s skidding, spinning sideways on the road ahead of him.

Aziraphale has no time to process, barely enough to react.

To continue reading head on over to AO3!

[toskarin]

There is no more tempting a poison than ambition, and no more ready an apothecary than Vancieskas of Verspine, more often known as Consecutor Vancieskas.

Born with no standing to become the heir of his family's estate, the lordling could bear no such indignity. Vancieskas' path to prominence burned to ash the very thing he desired most, advancing through nine separate orders of inheritance before arriving at the head of his family, and shortly thereafter, the tail of a dungeon.

Fair enough with a rapier or sabre, but without gift, and somewhat frail. Originally shortsighted, although at present, he wears his spectacles mostly out of habit.

Despite all appearances, Vancieskas is curiously sentimental towards his hat, stitched into the corners of his quilted cloak. The sort who is easily flustered when his prized possession stands to be harmed.

about 187cm and of unremarkable (if weak) build

[jellyfitzjelly]

Here! Another prompt for you *throws it in the cage* it's fluffy!

Zevlor doing his rounds in the grove and finds you fast asleep somewhere random. Maybe a comfy hay bale (you were exhausted and just needed a nap!) There's a chill breeze so he takes his cape or cloak off and covers you with it.

(also can we talk about Zev wearing a cloak 😍 his tail curling up underneath it when it's cold! Ok ok I'm getting sidetracked).

You subconsciously snuggle up into it, breathing in his scent. It's the best sleep you've had in weeks!

Ok so this is my first time writing a reader fic, hope it's not too bad. 😬 Chose 3rd person POV because 2nd POV scary. Enjoy! [READ ON AO3]

Zevlor rubbed his eyes as he made his round of the grove. It was mostly quiet, with people either eating or napping. He wouldn't have minded a few hours of sleep, but he had things to do. He strolled around, making sure everything was going well. The druids were looking for any pretext to expulse them from the grove ever since Halsin disappeared. He may as well be dead, Zevlor thought grimly. The only friend he had made since Avernus had gone missing... The old Hellrider pushed those bleak thoughts away and tried to bask in the present. He soaked in the quietness of the grove.

He was so engrossed in it, in fact, that he all but jumped out of his skin when he spotted a form in the hay when he passed by a chariot full of it. He cursed in Infernal under his breath before realizing it was Tav. He chuckled, amused by the scene. Like a child, the hero of the day had fallen asleep nestled in a stack of hay. Ever since he had laid eyes on her, he had taken a shine to her against his best judgement. Zevlor was wise enough to know the feeling was one-sided: what would an incredible young woman like her do with someone like him?

She was fast asleep, curled up on herself. The cold breeze blew, and Zevlor tightened his cloak around him. He observed the young woman, dressed in nothing more than a light shirt and pants. By the nine Hells, was she trying to catch her death?! Youngsters thought themselves invicible. Sighing with exasperated fondness, the old Hellrider unbuttoned his cloak and came to cover Tav with it. She seemed to stir, mumbling "Wait, mum." before bundling herself in it completely. Zevlor couldn't help a fond smile. He left her sleep like this as he walked back to his cave, letting the young woman wrapped in his reassuring scent.

[kyuubinosennin]

return to the mists

It had been three years since Uzumaki Naruto left for training with Jiraiya. Three years had passed since the power of the villages had begun to shift. There were a series of events over three years that occurred following Naruto's appearance before Konohagakure's Hokage and his former teammates. One of the events was the public outing of Uzumaki Naruto by some unknown source. Now the world knew that the Kyuubi Jinchuriki still lived and that he was the son of a village's heroes. The ripple effects of that left Konoha side-eyed and regarded warily, but it also alerted others that the Uzumaki Clan was not as dead as it was thought to be. Another was the start to attacks on the jinchuriki. A nearly fatal assault on Sunagakure left its jinchuriki, Gaara, wounded and in hiding while he recovered. This assault had been stopped by a timely intervention from two fellow jinchuriki - Roshi and Han of Iwagakure. Yet, it introduced the world to a rising threat: The group called the Akatsuki. A band of mercenaries with a darker plan that had yet to be figured out. Yet another event was more tragic than anything. Miraomoi Akawarai had died in his sleep to old age and his waning health. A death that put Kiri in mourning for a while. Akawarai had been a pillar of the village and had moved mountains to better the village. He had inspired others and thus his loss was felt. Yet, he had set up things to continue on past his death - including the reborn Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. It was now time for the son of the seas to return home. Kiri was experiencing a quiet transition into the evening - the moon starting to lurch into the sky. Stars filled the vast sky above while the light mist settled down across the village. It was as the evening began that the Mizukage, Mei, would be tipped off to a very powerful presence now entering her village. A familiar presence of chakra that was now at Kiri's cemetery.

There, standing before the grave of Akawarai, was a familiar head of curly red hair. A "crown" of flames that befit a prince like he was. The young man with whisker marks on his face and his patterned scars. His body was covered by a tattered red cloak - tattered and "styled" to look like nine red and black tails. Two sheathed swords peeked out from his cloak. The scabbards looked to be simple in design - a dark brown leather holding for the swords. His head tilts when he feels her approaching. "I was going to come surprise you, but I suppose I should have suppressed my chakra first." remarked Naruto with a small smile crossing his face. He turned to face Mei - having done what he came to do by the time she arrived. A bouquet of flowers laid on Akawarai's grave.

[shippingmyworld]

Congratulations, you’ve dragged me into TigerGhost, so now you have this in your inbox.

You know the whole “Ghost King” concept, right? The idea that after defeating Pariah Dark, Danny was crowned the next king for whatever reason?

Good, now let’s say whenever Danny goes into the deeper parts of the Ghost Zone, or maybe enters that place at all, the flaming crown instantly appears over his head. Some people like to add a space cloak and give him a whole outfit to fit the whole “King Of The Infinite Realms” thing.

Imagine Manny convincing Danny to bring him to the Ghost Zone, and upon entering, the whole outfit just manifests itself around Danny and he’s a little frustrated because he thinks he looks ridiculous. Manny’s too busy admiring his boyfriend to focus on anything else and takes a while to question why and when he suddenly changed.

ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US

And yeah I love the Ghost King concept! There's so much amazing fanart of Danny especially with him in monarch clothing and stuff. I really like the idea of the other ghosts kinda unofficially or officially accepting that if Danny can beat Pariah Dark, he's just been taking it easy on the rest of them.

I also really love the idea of Danny having the crown now that he's beaten Pariah, but he's able to hide it and does so because he's self-conscious about it. Being half-ghost is enough of a struggle for Danny that he doesn't want to also casually throw "King of Ghosts" into the mix. Can you imagine the absolute field day Timmy or SpongeBob would have if they found out? Timmy would blow everything out of proportion, constantly call Danny "Your Majesty" and bow as deep as he could whenever Danny walked by. Plus he'd instill it in SpongeBob's head that Danny needed to be treated with respect, so SB would totally go over the top and try and apologize for how causally he'd been treating a member of royalty.

But Manny? Oh man, imagine one day the group is fighting their villain of the week, who just so happens to push the team to their limit. Danny ends up needing to dip into his power as the Ghost King and summons the crown to boost his power to tip the fight in their favor, and the whole team just sees Danny floating there, ghost crown, cape, the whole nine yards just floating around him. Danny's a bit annoyed and when he explains, "I'm kinda the ghost king?" Manny is the first to explain "THAT'S SO COOL."

He'd be bouncing off the walls with questions like "Can you bring the outfit back?" "Do you have a castle? Why haven't you brought me to your castle?" "Aren't kings rich? Why are we struggling to pay rent if you're rich and own a castle?" "Wait, doesn't this make me a consort or something? Does that make me some ghost prince too since we're doing it?" Like man is firing off a thousand questions all at once with such excitement and joy that Danny doesn't even have a chance to feel self-conscious about it all. He'd summon back the outfit and low-key enjoy all the attention Manny is showering him in (and yes Manny's tail would be swishing back and forth in excitement during this moment).

Meanwhile Jenny, with her special mechanical eyes, would be like "Wait, so you all couldn't see the cape and crown this entire time?"

[sugar-lolya]

Anything can be cured.

Sandor Cligan x reader

(Hello dear reader. I am a newbie writer, why don't judge harshly:) I hope the story came out not bad for the first time. But I will be glad to all your comments (recommendations/advice), which I will take into account in the future. I won't keep you any longer, have a nice read.)

Chapter 1

The North is cold and harsh. Many newcomers cannot even live there, let alone stay. The Northerners are the only ones who can survive in this chilling cold. And they are led by the equally great Stark family, who have ruled the North for hundreds of years. But sometimes you don't have to be born a Stark to be one....

......

Winterfell Castle. It stands on a hot spring, and the water runs down its mighty walls like blood through your veins. It is as old as the wall that towers over all of Westeros. But the castle has not been abandoned for so long. On the contrary, it is teeming with life.

The fierce clang of swords sounds in the courtyard, accompanied by cheering shouts, the neighing of horses and the howling of the harsh North wind. Inside the castle there is the usual bustle, everyone is busy with business. Even the lord's children, the boys are practicing swordsmanship. And the girls are working in the upper room at the top of the tower.

-Aunt Kris, please tell one of those 'camping' stories again, I can't stand this nasty embroidery class. I'm worse at it than Sansa anyway. - a nine year old girl whimpered, if she had her way, this would be the last place she'd show up. Her interests were at odds with those of other little girls. She didn't like embroidery or playing with dolls, but she enjoyed shooting, swordfighting, and horseback riding. But none of those things were available to her.

-"Arya, my girl, you've heard these stories thirty times, and the septa doesn't like it when I tell them to you. You know how she feels about cruelty and violence, and my stories are full of it,” the girl replied, keeping her eyes on her embroidery: she was holding her own cloak, which she had been working on for weeks. It showed Winterfell, flanked by a dark gray draug and a fox. Most of the fur was white as snow, except for the ears, paws, and tip of the tail. They were black as night, and the eyes were like two small pieces of ice, just like the owner of the cloak. She didn't really like embroidery, but it was better than dealing with the colors and patterns she had left behind.

The girl turned around, looking at the elderly woman, Septa Mordain, once again praising the work of the eldest Stark daughter. A dozen girls crowded around Sansa, also praising her embroidery. Only Arya and Crystal did not participate in this “henhouse,” as the little Lady Stark called it.

Rolling her eyes, the girl turned around, turning her gaze back to her aunt: - "Please!" - Arya whispered, making her expression as pitiful as she could.

Crystal sighed, put the embroidery aside and raised her hands in surrender with a smile: "Okay, okay, but just one last time. So, what story does my little she-wolf want to hear this time?" - The girl sat closer and gently touched the girl's hair.

-"That one about you and your father,"- Arya's eyes lit up, and she fidgeted nervously in her seat as she waited for the story to be told.

"A long time ago, when your father was about ten years old and he had just become a student of John Arena at the Eagle's Nest. One day, he and his friend Robert went hunting in the nearby forest. Of course, they weren't allowed to go alone, and they sent a whole squad with them to help with the hunt. Your father didn't like such senseless noisy gatherings, so he separated from the group and went hunting on his own. At some point, Ned heard a strange sound that was not typical of the forest. He headed in that direction and came across a stream flowing down from one of the many mountains. He looked around and saw a basket being carried along the stream, and from it came the sound of a child crying. He dropped all his weapons and rushed into the stream in front of him without hesitation. At the last moment, he managed to grab the basket and pull it out. He returned, clutching the basket tightly in his hands. I stopped crying and looked at my savior's face with interest. Soon Robert and his servants found him and took him back to the Eagle's Nest. Already there, Ned called me Stark and gave me the name Crystal, after the color of my white skin and light brown hair"… Her story was interrupted by Arya's scream.

-"And my father said that he named you after your eyes, because they looked like crystal clear waters."- The girl blurted it out in one breath and looked at her aunt with a satisfied look, but the smile quickly disappeared when she saw the expression on her face.

Crystal looked very gloomy, thoughtfully staring at the wall. Arya realized that she had blurted out too much and was already thinking hard about the words of apology. When suddenly Septa called out to them,- "Arya, show me what you've done!" - The woman came over and snatched the work out of her hands. -" Again, everything is crooked and askew, your hands are not made for sewing, these are the hands of a carpenter."

Crystal looked up at the septa and crossed her arms over her chest in protest. As she approached, she snatched Arya's work out of the old woman's hands and began to study each stitch carefully. -" I don't think so, she has potential, but if you notice only the bad in your work every time, then you will never get good." - putting the embroidery on the table and taking her finished cloak, Crystal left the room, Arya jumped out after her. The septa's scream echoed throughout the tower. Upon hearing it, Arya distills the Crystal and gets lost in the countless corridors of Winterfell.

On the move, putting on a cloak, the girl leaves the tower and goes to the Godswood. After passing through the high arch, Crystal saw her brother Lord sitting on a stone under one of the weirwood trees. Coming closer, she nodded in greeting and sat down next to him. Eddard was diligently sharpening his family's sword "Ice". None of them dared to interrupt the silence, because they did not want to end the already few moments of calm.

After a while, Catelyn joined them. The expression on her face and the black letter in her hands did not bode well. As she got closer, she hesitated, trying to find the words. -" Ned, Crystal… bad news has come from King's Landing, I'm very sorry, John Arryn died… "- there was a tense silence, people sitting in mute horror stared at Catelyn. -" I know how important he was to you because you grew up with him, and he replaced your father with a Crystal… But there is something else in the letter… The King and his family are going north to Winterfell to visit you." - Catelyn gave the letter to Ned so that he would be convinced of the truth of his words. Looking at each other, the brother and sister smiled slightly. They had a good relationship with Robert, and as children, Ned and Robert took care of the newborn Crystal.

To be continued…

[vermi-lyon]

Naruto Nine Tails Chakra Mode

The swirling chakra was inspired by the volume 26 cover of naruto. I think it has a cooler look than the usual chakra cloak. Art by me

[kibasniper]

treat .... 👊😔🤚

a treat of kitty/elka with a dash of franke awaits you under the cut!!

Neon lights stream through darkness. Music pounds against the walls. Electronic synths and grinding drums clatter in a cacophony. Witchy cackling and spooky vibrations interpose, fitting the abode’s decor of a haunted house turned party house filled with ghouls and ghosts intent on carousing until the first sliver of sunlight.

From her spot on the couch, legs neatly crossed, Elka sips from her red Solo cup. She still doesn’t know why she agreed to the outfit clinging to her body. Plastic bolts extend from her neck, courtesy of a skin-tone choker gifted by Kitty. Her white, satin, ankle-length dress drapes around her tall frame like a loose shawl. With her coiffed, dark hair striped with white streaks like curved lightning, the atypical bride swallows her liquor with a sigh, noting the sugary aftertaste.

Chatter and chords collide. All around her, as she waits for Kitty and Franke, people are dressed to the nines. Devils in scarlet bodysuits and plastic pitchforks, werewolf vixens in corsets and furry tails, and witches in black silk galore, they flit through cobwebbed halls with either pixie-like flourish or drunken stumbles. Elka watches them swiping candies from pumpkin bags scattered throughout the living room, or dancing too close for comfort, their body heat so pungent that even she can feel it.

Just when thinks she’s had enough, forewarned by the dull ache brewing between her temples, an arm loops around her shoulder. Legs fling over the couch, splashes of brown and black accentuated by pops of garishly bright hues flutter as Kitty lands in the seat next to her. She levitates a handful of gummies, which, oddly enough, glow like psitanium.

“Elka, baby, so sorry for that wait,” she exclaims, smiling toothily, only to snicker. “Oops, I mean, my bad, Bride of Frankenstein.”

Elka rolls her eyes. She glances at Kitty up and down, remarking, “How long does it take to fix your make-up?”

“Franke got distracted. There was a nice set of legs by the stairs,” Kitty quickly props hers up on the coffee table, nudging aside leftover cups of beer. Her designer leather boots go well with her bedazzled, twine coat and lopsided top hat. “Mine are better, obviously, but hey, Franke has good taste.”

Elka observes how she casually pops in a gummy. Unlike the mad scientist she was meant to emulate, Kitty was a natural free spirit, untethered by opinions. She guessed Kitty was mad in other regards, and Elka felt the corner of her lip curl.

“You know, I don’t think Victor Frankestein was meant to wear any of that. Don’t you think the top hat is a bit much?”

“No way because this is.hot Dr. Frankenstein.”

“You still look nothing like the guy. Quentin thought you were just-” She grins. “-Victorian.” Kitty scoffs, waving dismissively. “I wasn’t going to dress like any boring scientist, or throw on some lame cloak, and call it a night. Otherwise, I’d look like that creep who stole our brains.” She shifts closer to Elka, setting her hand on her thigh and arches a neat brow. “Remember him? Shower cap guy I never got to sue?  I wonder where the hell he ended up. Maybe a catacomb somewhere or…”

Kitty trails off, Her long, slightly pointed nails are painted as crimson as blood, and they tease the fabric of Elka’s dress. She leans in, her face shimmery and golden. The deep magenta of her irises are intoxicating, similar to the glow of the gummies.

Elka’s breath holds in her chest. Kitty is holding tight, her gaze unblinking. She always finds a way to surprise her. Mundane settings or scenarios where intimacy flies free, there’s never a dull moment around Kitty Bubai.

But Kitty’s plum lips twist in a smirk as she offers, “Gummy? They’re strawberry flavored with a tasteful smidgen of THC.”

Holding her ground, pretending the faintly redder hue on her cheeks are uneven splotches of her rouge, Elka snorts. “It’s like you can never ask a question like a normal person.”

She laughs, high and airy. Kitty lugs a leg off the table and over Elka’s shins, hitching herself forward, and Elka breathes in the sweet, marshmallowy scent of Chanel No. 5. “Aw, what? Did you want a trick instead of a treat?” she whispers, and she pinches the gummy between her teeth.

She leans forward, and sugar dusts against Elka’s thin mouth. Kitty presses their lips together, and the party melts from Elka’s peripheral. The gummy slips from Kity to Elka, who stiffens at the tart flavor and the coolness of Kitty’s breath. She knows that when Kitty parts, there will be purple stain across her ebony lips, and involuntarily, her molars grind down on the gummy.

Kitty moves back with a giggle. Hints of jet black dot the edges of her mouth. “Guess that was more of a trick, too, huh?”

Before Elka could retort, strong arms painted a pale green swing over both of their shoulders. Their Frankenstein has finally arrived. Franke wears the ripped, patched long cat with style, adding an extra, loose layer to her sturdy frame. With matching bolts in her neck, wearing a choker gifted by Kitty, she grins from ear to ear, the painted stitches over her mouth lifting.

“So, hey, can I get in on that?” she asks, leaning so far into the couch that she may as well just fall over. She winks at Elka. “I can’t have my bride have all the fun, yeah?”

Kitty wastes no time repeating it with Franke. Elka watches as they kiss, Franke’s head away from her, and Kitty is in full view. Her eyes are still open, clearly enjoying herself, and like Franke, she shoots Elka a wink.

Elka snakes her hand behind her hot neck. Yet, she smiles, fondness blossoming in her chest like the spark of life that had awoken both the bride and monster. She leans into Franke’s back, draping her arms around her torso, and she heaves a sigh, relishing in a party that has long bubbled away like a tonic in a cauldron.

[renadoesstuff]

seventeen in fantasy 💫 joshua vers | part 3

masterlist

Kitsune

"From the realm of Sangria⏤ where spellbound flames danced without exhaustion.. the legendary trickster roamed unseen amongst the world of the mundane.

He walked the line between mischief and mercy. Hong Jisoo⏤ his eyes reflected the foxfire; his nine tails cloaked in mystery.

In a world of fleeting shadows, he was both the riddle and the answer.. his true intentions only known to the moon."