#threat of mutilation

[sir-fenris]

Whumpcember24 - Day 3

Begging

(Drabbles' masterlist)

Content: experiment whumpee, resigned whumpee, intimate/sadistic whumper, begging, hand-feeding, implied torture, leg injury, threat of mutilation, starvation.

The first time Whumpee was thrown in the dungeon cell, they thought pain would be the worst, consistent problem. And well... it was, indeed, consistent and distressing.

But somehow boredom was worse.

Because boredom led to overthinking.

Could they have done something to stop the last session's pain sooner? When will be the next one? Will they be allowed water and food? How many days has passed? Is this consistent pain in the leg normal after being stabbed? Is the lethargy and apathy because of tiredness, or were they going insane?

And slowly, there was so much nothing going on beyond the pain, that their mind had to come up with new questions to fill their "free" time.

Like; how many steps there were between the bars and the wall? What's the highest number they can count to before a new session? How long can they keep their eyes open? How much can they move before jostling an injury too badly?

Any question and thought until the cell door opens.

When torture starts, they hope for it to end.

When torture ends, they hope for it to begin again just to take them out of this endless overthinking.

... And to give them a chance to eat. Because that only happened when Whumper was in a good mood and wanted to play, instead of study torture methods.

"Look who's up early today!" Speaking of the devil...

Whumpee raises their eyes tiredly, barely seeing Whumper clearly anymore, their eyesight is getting worse each day. They don't say anything, they don't need to.

"I was thinking of trying out glossectomy today, but I'm reconsidering..." Whumper muses, walking in the cell with a black bottle in hands.

Whumpee hated when Whumper used their weird-ass words. It meant usually some type of surgery or medical thing, by Whumpee's experience, and it always had the immense potential to be an excruciating experience.

At their tiredly confused expression, Whumper grins gleefully and explains, after crouching down. "Tongue removal, little bird."

Their blood goes cold. Whumper has never chopped off a part of their body. No matter how far they went, Whumpee knew Whumper would at least keep them whole by the end of it, why must it change now-

With a chilling chuckle, Whumper opens the black bottle, and the smell of fruit cuts off Whumpee's thinking.

"Now, now, don't lose yourself just yet. I told you, I'm reconsidering," Whumpee says. "I do love you singing for me, little bird... So I'll give you a chance to prove that I'm better off leaving your tongue where it is. And, if you're good enough, you can have a tasty smoothie, hm?"

The pause sent Whumpee in a frenzy to find out what was the right thing to say, which clues they had in hands to guess what Whumper wanted to hear.

'I do love you singing for me...'

"Please..." Whumpee whispers, lowering their eyes to the ground when Whumper grin grows. "Can I please eat?"

A hooked finger presses their chin upwards, forcing them to meet Whumper's gaze. "You can do better, little bird. Let me help."

Pain burns through their body as Whumper uses their other hand's nails to dig into Whumpee's leg injury. They try to curl into themselves with a stifled wail, but Whumper's hooked fingers turns into a whole-hand grip on their jaw, keeping Whumpee's gaze on Whumper's eyes only.

"P-Ple- Ah! Please, please, c-can I eat?" Tears burn their eyes when Whumper just digs their nails further, still with that vile grin. "Please, I'm begging you, I'm so hungry, please let me eat, please, please-"

Their words are interrupted by a choked gasp as Whumper retrieves both their hands to clap. "There we go, that's better."

Whumpee breaths shakily, closing their eyes to urge the pained tears away.

"Your singing is too pretty for me to cut off your tongue, little bird. Aren't you glad I've changed my mind?" Whumper asks cheerfully, putting a straw on the smoothie bottle.

"... Yes, thank you," Whumpee whispers. At least today's game was easy and fast. It's the easiest food they got in a long while.

"Good song bird. Now, say 'ah' for me."

Whumpee's eyebrows twitched at the straw being tapped against their lips, because their hands were fine, they didn't need nor want Whumper to feed them.

But this was the easiest food they got in a long while. They can't lose the opportunity of easy, tasty nutrition because of pride.

And when the delicious, cold and fresh smoothie reaches their kept tongue, Whumpee forgot why they had even hesitated.

There is no space for pride in survival.

-

(Kinda late, but stills counts as day 3, right? Shhh, for me, it does.)

-

[golden--goofball]

no bc WHY is yaelokre acting like some "wittle uwu viticim 🥺🥺🥺" right now.

y'all can flame me all you want for this keath does NOT get to act like a victim after what they've caused. if you wanna be a victim maybe adress the bullshit your fans are doing because of your irresponsibility. maybe adress the fact that because of YOU, YOUR FANS are going around sending whole ass body paragraphs of genital mutilation threats to children on ao3 instead of actively blocking the people trying to bring it to your attention. then and ONLY THEN do you get to be boohooing over fanart you don't like and acting like you're some hero for it or some shit.

i don't care who you are or what you think, anti-censorship or otherwise, the lives of real people should always. ALWAYS. come BEFORE the written or drawn stories of fictional characters.

and if you disagree with that you're fucking insane and (disrespectfully) can fuck off and block me. thanks!!! (≧▽≦)♥︎

[iw2kms]

CREATING PAIN so my current pain doesn’t feel so bad >>>>>>>>

[irhabiya]

lrb and God forbid you be a little mean to rabid racist freaks why did staff do absolutely nothing about the asks i would get for months on end from zionists after oct 7 telling me how they'd rape me but i get terminated for telling these dogs to kill themselves

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Primetober Day 4: With Friends Like This…, with all bonus prompts (Fighting, verbal abuse, and destruction of property.)

Dragon AU. In an act of defiance, Tommy tries to damage other parts of the “hoard” Dream keeps him trapped in. Dream, coldly furious, makes Tommy regret it without even lifting a finger. Warnings for self harm, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, abuse, torture, referenced mutilation, referenced child death, dehumanisation, infantilisation, possessive behaviour, and threats of violence.

ao3 link

—— Tommy’s knuckles bled.

Wood and bone and stranger material aside lay rend to nothing in the hoard of treasure, the magic inside them diffusing into the air. Shards of glass and crystal dug deep into his skin, leaving wounds Tommy could only hope would scar, marring his skin, breaking him too.

If he could not leave this gilded prison, he’d tear off the gold and refuse to play nice. He’d bite and scratch and scream and make himself no longer worthy of hoarding.

Prime knows how long he’d been in this cave. He couldn’t see the days change, and Dream’s sleeping schedule was erratic enough that he couldn’t rely on that either. He’d grown a little taller, and his hair was a lot longer, so it had to have been a while, yet the images of blood and fire and pain still felt like it was yesterday, waking him up with screaming fits the rare times he caught sleep.

He was sixteen when his home was destroyed. When the monster from the storybooks burnt everything to the ground, gutted soldiers effortlessly through their armour, tore kids hiding in the corner to shreds. Tommy was the only survivor, though trophy seemed the more appropriate word. 

If you were to ask Dream, he’d say it was because Tommy was the only person he’d met with the guys to stand against him without trying to hide behind iron shells and sharp sticks, with only his fists and a scared yet determined look in his eyes. Tommy got the impression it was more because being the great and terrible monster who destroyed villages for fun was a lonely life, and he was just the unlucky son of a bitch chosen to try and play therapist to a fucking dragon, but he knew better than to say it. He wanted at least one working arm, if nothing else.

He liked to imagine he was grown now. No longer a child under any stretch of the imagination, no matter how little Dream treated him like a “hatchling”, as he called it in his weird way of speaking. He was grown, and no one could call him a kid again without them being the childish one. He was mature now, like Tubbo was.

That thought felt like a flaw through the chest. Prime, he missed Tubbo. At least he never saw him die. He could delude himself into believing he escaped, somehow. It was a blatant lie to himself, and he knew that, but it served to cushion the blow, just a bit.

So did breaking things.

Priceless artefacts lay shattered, rare collectables and historic art pieces and ancient magic. Gone, destroyed, bloodied. They were a part of the same hoard Tommy had been trapped in, Dream seeming to view chasing him down, hurting him until he couldn’t move, and dragging him back to the literal gilded cage he spent most his time in as a game, and Tommy reckoned they’d been there longer than he’d been alive times, like, a billion. They weren’t doing anyone any good.

But even if they would, he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. He just wanted to hurt Dream. He wanted to show him he wasn’t a cute little pet human to coo over and torment, a jewel to keep locked up in a display case. No, he was Tommy, angry, violent, human. If Dream wanted to hold him captive, he had to know that Tommy would make it as difficult as possible.

And maybe, just maybe, Dream would kill him, and he could join Tubbo.

He breathed heavily, exhaustion overtaking him, and he dragged himself up the endless pile of useless stuff to the soft blankets and endless pillows at the top. Even if it meant locking himself back into a display, he didn’t mind. Maybe then Dream would see what he did. Maybe then Dream would fucking listen to him.

Halfway up, though, he felt a heavy tug on the back of his tunic, the only warning before claws dug into his back and he was dragged back to the ground. He landed with a thud, before something shifted and in a flash, he went from a paw holding him down to the weight of a person pinning him.

Opening his eyes, Tommy looked up at his own face.

That was one of the torturous things about Dream- his insistence on parading a parody of Tommy’s form around. Warped, a sickly pale green and with his monstrous features slapped atop, but still recognisably Tommy as of his capture, the same scratch wounds on his arms, the bruises on his face, and almost unscarred, unlike the mess of burns and cuts and injuries coating Tommy now. It was uncanny, and still, it made Tommy long for a time he’d never get back, when he felt whole in body, mind and soul, and not an empty shell.

“Tommy.”

Dreams’ voice was calm, eerily empty of any emotion. His face was blank, too, and that was scarier than anger. Dream loved being able to emote in his human form- grinning and giggling like an idiot whenever he was mildly happy, crying his eyes out when he was a little disappointed. Not even bothering with that told Tommy that whatever he felt, it was so far past bothering to even show. He wasn’t even sure if that thought made sense, but it was hard to make sense out of anything through the blind panic.

“I- I-“Tommy’s voice died in his throat.

“Quiet.”

Tommy shrunk, instinctively expecting a broken bone, another missing finger maybe, but Dream just stared down, expressionless. “I know what you’re trying to do, hatchling.” His tail wagged aggressively behind him, thumping loudly on the ground in contrast to how eerily calm he looked. “You’re trying to piss me off, so I decide you’re not worth keeping, and I’ll let you go or kill you, right?”

Tommy nodded his head, unable to speak.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are, little one.” Dream let out a barking laugh, one that lacked any humour. “I don’t care about how valuable something is for you humans. Gold, silver, gems, your sticks you use to access magic and scribble papers, they only matter because they interest me. And Tommy… you’re far more valuable than any other thing here. Unlike all my other trophies, you’re fun to play with.”

Dream smiled slowly, baring sharp teeth awkwardly stuck into a human mouth. The memories of such razor-sharp blades digging into his flesh sent phantom pain through the scars left by them, agonising enough that he couldn’t help but whimper. There was no ambiguity as to what he meant by that, and it sent a chill up Tommy’s spine. He wouldn’t even be allowed to die, not while the monster from his nightmares had fun torturing him like a cat would a mouse.

“But of course, I can’t let you just get away with that, can I? I have a reputation to upkeep.” There was a faint hint of what might have been sadness in that, barely peeking through his unreadable tone, but it disappeared as soon as it broke through. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve shown me that doesn’t work, haven’t you?”

He grinned again, and Tommy’s stomach dropped. “No, no. The second you step out of line again, Tommy, I’m going take you to show what happened to your little human lair, and I’m gonna destroy one more for each little mistake you make. And I’ll make sure you see every second of it. Maybe I’ll even bring some humans back to take my time playing with, before I get bored of them. Maybe I’ll make you hurt them too.”

Tommy felt sick. He couldn’t even bear to think about- about the outside, about his home. The image of it, picturesque and whole in his memories, still caused him to tear up, let alone the nightmares. The idea of seeing it now, ruined and shattered, seemed horrific, and even worse was the idea of anyone else going through the same thing, seeing their home burnt to the ground, dying horribly in the wreckage. Or being brought back to- to really, just be tortured, and then probably eaten once Dream got bored or hungry or whatever, without even the scattered, confused kindness Dream tried to show to him.

And the idea of doing what was done to him to others? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. No. No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t live with himself, knowing that agony.

Tommy tried his best to stay calm, to be a Big Man, but like a goddamn pussy he couldn’t help himself but burst into tears.

Absently, Dream ran a claw gently across his face, curiously tracing the path of the tears, eyes widening slightly in fascination. “Don’t worry. Just be the perfect treasure, and that won’t have to happen, ’kay?”

“H-how?” Tommy’s voice was strangled, terrified. It took all he had left to even say them. “How do I- do I stop that?”

“Just don’t try stupid shit again, alright? And talk to me. It’s interesting, hatchling. I’ve never had anyone to talk to before.” It was said so casually, but even in this state, Tommy was struck by how fucking sad that was. Dream really was doing this out of loneliness, wasn’t he? Maybe… maybe it wasn’t so bad to stay here, and be friends with Dream.

“Okay.” Tommy nodded, hating how weak he sounded. “J-just, please. Don’t hurt anyone else.”

“I can’t promise that.” Dream sounded sad again. “I- I exist for a reason, y’know, Tommy. Some things are made to ruin. They don’t have a choice. Do you think I want this? This pile of useless goods? This lonely existence? There needs to be a villain for every hero.” Dream sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about this. It’s- I’m not meant to; humans and hatchlings aren’t to know.”

The idea seemed strange. That Dream was as much a prisoner as Tommy… it didn’t make sense, yet Tommy found an odd sense of kinship in it. Maybe that’s why Dream seemed so oddly fascinated that he chose to fight him. Maybe he’d fought his role already. Maybe… he could find a way to make Dream only hurt him.

Or maybe it was a lie. But Tommy would let himself believe a comforting one, if only to give him the strength to stop Dream from doing what he did to him to anyone else.

After all, no one but Tommy deserved it.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Uh… anyway, how would I go about reporting a blog to the FBI for making concerning posts which insinuate they may try to shoot up their — or a — school? Genuinely. It’s bad. Assistance, please.

[sharry-arry-odd]

"If Prince John doesn't know I'm alive, he won't go after Rob. He'll leave Nottingham alone. He has no reason to bother." "Oh, you're quite right. He's had so many excellent reasons in the past," Allan said, flouncing about with a cloak. "I'll starve the people because they're quite bothersome. I'll murder Gisbourne because he's ceased to be useful. And in fact—I shall cut off your fingers because you annoyed me and I don't know how to talk about my feelings," he mocked.

Lion Heart, by A.C. Gaughen

[moondragon618]

Immortal c!Prime design hcs bc why not

So firstly, Immortal c!Dream is mostly the same he just doesn't hide his white streak anymore lol

Immortal c!Tommy, however... yeah I have many thoughts abt him :)

So basically, with each revival he goes through during the revival experiments, his hair gets a little more white. And also, around the point where almost half of c!Tommy's hair has gone completely white, he also loses the color in one of his eyes (c!Dream absolutely does not miss the opportunity to point it out and rub in how death is "changing him"). So he has one faded blue-grey eye and one white eye for a bit until there's just barely any blonde left in his hair, and then the other eye loses it's color too.

(c!Dream is keeping count of how many revivals it takes to make c!Tommy's hair entirely white this whole time, and he definitely takes note of when his eyes lose their color too.)

By the time they're both immortal (which c!Dream made sure happened in a way that c!Tommy wouldn't know how he did it just to make sure he couldn't make anyone else immortal), c!Tommy's hair has been fully white for a while already. Also he has a scar in the shape of c!Dream's signature smiley face on his neck (c!Dream carved it into him with a knife, deep enough that he bled out and had to be revived right after), partly because he really pissed him off one time, but really c!Dream had been planning to do that for a while :)

Now for the actual Immortal c!Tommy design hc: My version of him is basically like an upgraded protegeinnit lol. He's got the matching hoodie with c!Dream but red instead of green, and he gets a smiley face mask identical to c!Dream's. Also, after a while of being forced into doing some revival himself for "experiments" (they might be immortal now, but there's still so much to learn about death, you know?), his eyes become an unnatural glowing blue. (c!Dream was really excited about that. It still managed to scare the shit out of c!Tommy when he saw it for himself the first time.) He hates how much it makes him look like c!Dream, but also after spending so much time being conditioned and believing he has no one else, it's almost a little comforting.

Eventually c!Tommy is allowed out of the prison as long as he wears his mask (and he prefers to anyway bc he's self conscious abt his eyes + he believes everyone would hate him), and it's not like he could run away even if he wanted to bc c!Dream can track him anywhere (he stole the "Your Tommy" compass just before Doomsday and eventually managed to fix it). And c!Dream teaches c!Tommy how to revive ppl on his own, but only after he's made it very clear what happens if c!Tommy revives someone without his permission-

He will hunt them down, make them beg to be dead again, kill them, and maybe revive them and kill them again a few more times :) And c!Tommy gets to watch :) And maybe he'll even force c!Tommy to kill them a couple times- all he'd have to do is threaten to make it even more agonizing if he has to do it himself :) :) :)

[aspenforest732]

Mortem ad Wrens Chapter 28: Into the Lion's Den

Summary:

tw: dead name, being found by past abusers, trafficking, starvation, torture, threats of death and violence, fear, the uncaring nature of abusers, coercion, lack of autonomy, eugenics, experimentation, medical torture and torment, mutilation, death of children, emotional abuse, a scene that mirrors the torment of indigenous Jewish BIPOC and disabled folks during times of extreme eugenics and hatred for marginalized groups Akira and Bakugo try to survive their kidnapping

Notes:

The mirror of the last trigger warning is separated by [MIRROR START] and [MIRROR END]. It's not necessary to read or be summarized, so skip it if you need/want to. This is a heavy, dark chapter, so do what you need to and be kind to yourself. ‘text’ JSL Text thoughts

“-cut the small talk and die!”

Akira slowly came to painful awareness, their entire body throbbing and shaking. They cracked their eyes open, surveying Bakugo strapped into a chair with bulky restraints covering his hands and the League standing around a bar. At least the lights are low, Akira mused, barely registering as Dabi met their eyes with concern.

“Pipsqueak’s awake,” he drawled.

Twice brought a bag of jerky, at which point Akira realized they were also restrained as their bony, too-thin wrists scraped against the cuffs. The villain dangled the bag in front of them as Shigaraki turned his attention to them.

“Sensei wants you alive, but it’s not mandatory for the process,” Shigaraki rasped. He frowned and stalked forward, grabbing Akira’s chin while keeping his pinky lifted before pinching one of their contacts and removing it. There was a small red dot on the lens that wasn’t normally there. “Can’t let the npc’s cheat now, can we,” Shigaraki muttered as he disintegrated the contacts.

“It can’t be…” Akira looked up as Mr. Compress strode forward and took off his mask. They flinched into the back of the chair as he grabbed their chin. “It is! That’s the Inoue kid I was telling you about.”

Akira froze, fear flickering in their eyes as they tried to keep their face neutral. Mr. Compress studied them with keen, worried eyes as Bakugo jerked against his restraints.

“The hell are you on!” Bakugo snarled. “Their name is Mori, not Inoue.”

Kurogiri pulled a file from seemingly thin air and nodded, “The resemblance is striking. And would explain the other bidder.”

“Why did you leave your family?” Magne asked. She straightened slightly, hints of curiosity peeking through her tight expression.

“They don’t have to tell you shit,” Bakugo growled, “and they can’t anyways. They’re mute, dumbass.”

“Spinner, release their restraints. They can’t move in their state anyways,” Shigaraki ordered. The gecko cautiously stepped forward as Mr. Compress backed off, Spinner eyeing the explosive blonde warily as he released Akira.

Wincing at the movement, Akira used their capture weapon to guide their arms forward so they could sign as Dabi interpreted, ‘None of your fucking business.’ They hesitantly took the bag of jerky and forced themself to start eating, the lack of hunger amidst their pain a testament to how far along they were.

“They abandoned you, didn’t they? You were failed by heroes and yet you try to walk the path of your oppressors. Why not tear down the system, watch it burn so you can start anew?” Shigaraki grinned.

‘I ran,’ Akira glared. ‘I intend to rebuild the system you only seek to destroy.’ They could feel Bakugo staring but couldn’t bring themself to look.

“If your goal is to first destroy, ours is aligned,” Kurogiri intoned. “I would recommend you listen to our offer.”

Akira finished off the bag with a thoughtful expression plastered on their face before risking a glance at Bakugo. To their shock, there were only traces of anger in his expression filled with concern, confusion, and fear. ‘If you want me to even consider your offer, I need more food. I’m in third-stage starvation right now, and that bag will maybe last two hours. High protein and high vitamins are best right now.’

“You’re not in a position to make demands!” Twice reprimanded before looking almost concerned. “They’re just a kid. We should help.”

“Kurogiri,” a deep voice crackled from the small tv, “bring the child to me.”

Akira sent a panicked look to Bakugo before being consumed by familiar darkness and deposited at a table. Across from them sat a broad-shouldered man with a large scar over his face wearing a breathing apparatus and a formal suit. Akira immediately averted their gaze downwards, the man radiating a deeply unsettling aura of danger.

“Eat, child. You have nothing to fear here,” the man said, gesturing to the large meal laid out.

Akira only hesitated a moment before digging in. Just build your strength up, you can let this be your baseline for now. Survive first, worry about fluctuation repercussions later.

“Are you aware of your family’s transgressions? Good, then I’m sure you understand why they must die.”

Akira glanced up at that, carefully keeping their expression neutral even as their hands shook. Whether from the pain or fear they weren’t sure at this point. Their stomach rolled as they tried not to think about where they were or what would happen to Katsuki.

“I can give you the tools, the people, the money to do whatever you wish to them,” the man continued. “All I ask in return is for you to assist my own goals and follow me. Would it not be a wonderful revenge for a Wren child to turn villain and take them down?”

Akira let a hint of their budding curiosity show as they carefully signed, ‘What would you get in return? What would you have me do?’

He grinned coldly, “Your mere presence, much like Tomura’s, would be a blemish on hero society. I see your potential, child, and oh the places you could go if you never had to wonder where your next meal would come from. Of course, you would do nothing that would make you too uncomfortable, and we can protect you from the Wrens.”

‘Can I think about it? ’Akira hesitantly signed. Is it really buying time if I’m considering it? Akira pushed away the thought derisively, trying to focus on the room’s layout and blinking cameras.

“Of course, child. We will have quite some time together, and I can assuage any doubts you may have. You may call me Shigaraki or All for One. I presume Mori is your preferred name?”

Akira froze at the confirmation, panic surging back even as they tried to clamp down on their emotions. They stiffly nodded and finished what they could from the table, certain they could last the rest of the night at least. They’re coming. Just hold on and don’t give in.

Ÿ̸̩̮́̏̀̈̌͠ȍ̴̧̨̧̧͎̦̬͍̳͕̀̿͗̾̚ú̵̖̱̱͍̪̓̌͐͆͐̅͑̓͊̒̉̕͠͠͝'̶̡͓͈̰̭̦͓͓͔̥̞̣̝̯͍̟͓̂̎͂͗͑͊̈̌̾͘l̵̢̧̡̟̥̖̞͉̪̯̗̜̼͖͓͈̅̎͆͆͋́̐̊̏̄̕͠ͅl̸͙͔͕̪̺̤͚͙͚̈̎͌̔̽̊̇̈̔̄̀̓͗͘͠ͅ ̸̛̤͙͈̺͚͔͍͈̣͎̥̥͆̑̅̇̄̈́̑͠l̴̳̯̤̑ơ̸̧͙̝͈̎͆̃̊̈́̑̅́̃̂̎̏̈̍͝s̵̢̢͉̗͍̤̯͚͕̹̿̽̀͐̓̒̕̕̕̚͠͝ę̸̨̭͓̘͔͙̲͔̣̰̫͔̥͔͇̐̒̽̃͊̿̚͝͝ ̷̥̘͕̖̭͔͈̲̜͕͈͉̫̩͕̱͓͆t̴̨̛̥̤͎̳͓̭̰͇̗̗̦͇̖̪̫̜̏̈́́̈́͛͛̍̚h̶͇̺̫̖̄̋̐͑̆̏̑̽͋̇̍̃̚̚͠e̷̩̘̿̓̓̓̑̉̇͗̽͗̓͂̆̍̾͌̽m̶̼͇̙̘̗̣̏͒̄̋̈́͒̌̐̾́̒͗̉͘ ̵͖̳͇̲̲̤͉̯͈̗̥̹̹̬͔̯̝̎̍̈́̃̀̑̍̓̓̐͊a̵̡͓̖̦̬̩̝̥̓̾̎̔̒͜͝ͅn̴̢͈̟̗̞͓̊͜y̵̠͉͕͖̏̃̒̿̀͒̎͛͐̎̈́́̊͊̕w̴̫̪̞̜͖̱̥͈̩͙̭̩̺͒͛̌a̶̢̭̥̻͍̻͇͋̈́͛̏̂͐̆̑̔̾̀̍̌͝ŷ̸̧̧̡̛͙̖̫͖̺͙͍̺͕͈̞̓̀̒̇͌͆̉̏̀͘ (You’ll lose them anyway)

No, they’re not going to leave if they haven’t yet. Just let… Akira tapered off as they realized All for One was smirking. Looking around their mindscape, they didn’t see anyone, but that wasn’t always an indicator. So, they mentally screamed.

All for One chuckled darkly, “I see you realized one of my quirks. Your plans can be folded into our resources. Incentives can be provided, of course, if the other parties don’t desire a partnership.”

Akira shuddered but kept their mind carefully blank. ‘I appreciate your generosity,’ they signed, carefully focusing on each word instead of jumping ahead to connected thoughts.

Eventually, All for One escorted Akira to a small bedroom attached to an office. They carefully kept their mind blank aside from matching the pitch of a low hum felt throughout the building. A few minutes after All for One’s steps faded into the distance, they carefully lowered themself onto the bed. Give up what little I’ve carefully cultivated for a near-guaranteed success, Akira mused. The people already involved wouldn’t be out of danger, but maybe they could be kept out of further danger? Akira knew they would be labeled a villain, a traitor even soon after their plan started, but All for One had lived for well over a century if the age of stories could be trusted. They could try to limit casualties, but from Shigaraki’s campaign, Akira doubted they’d be able to do so for long and certainly not by proxy. And what would Aizawa think? Taishiro?

Akira sagged against the headboard, still exhausted from the day’s chaos. As they drifted off, their treacherous mind slipped one last thought. Am I even worth being saved?

Akira awoke gradually for once, realizing with a confused frown that it had been a dreamless sleep. Surveying the room, they tested the thickness of the walls, noting that the one opposite the office was a little thicker. Akira meditated on the bed for a few minutes before there was a knock on the door and it opened. They tensed as All for One entered, bearing a tray piled with lunch foods.

“I hope you enjoyed your rest,” he rumbled. “A life such as yours is often plagued by nightmares.”

Akira nervously ate while All for One waited by the door, their eyes flicking to him every couple bites as they focused on a K-pop album in their head. Their thoughts occasionally started turning to Katsuki, but Akira quickly turned back to the song. As they finished, Akira slipped off the bed opposite All for One, keeping their eyes on the ground and mind on the songs.

“I trust you have thought about my offer,” All for One said, his aura of danger returning. “Today I will show you what you can have if you agree.”

Akira slowly nodded, heart pounding as they fell into step behind him. The villain led them out into a viewing area over large vats with tubes running to massive tubs. Stepping beside All for One, Akira’s breath caught in their throat at the dozens of Nomu in the vats. They were definitely in a warehouse, and Akira startled at the number on the right wall, not recognizing it as a Shizuoka code. I wonder how… Remembering who they were next to, Akira shut down that train of thought and refocused on the songs, cringing as they glanced to the villain who was now facing them.

“I suppose another way the heroes have failed you,” All for One said, voice gaining a slight edge. “You will never have to sleep on a warehouse floor again, my dear, if you stay with us. An army of Nomu under your command, a warm place to stay, all the food you could ever want. All this could be yours, and the Wrens will never see the light of day when we’re done.”

‘And what if I refuse?’ Akira leaned away from his gaze.

“If you cannot be of use willingly, we can still make use of your quirk,” All for One said dismissively. “I’m much more interested in your potential, however, and would be willing to invest more time in changing your mind if it comes to that.”

Akira shuddered, flashes of family members “changing their mind” flashing in their head. They flinched as a massive hand rested on their shoulder and All for One’s face came into view.

“We would talk, child. Nothing more, I can assure you,” his voice dripped with sympathy and Akira found themself wanting to believe him.

Startled at the thought, Akira wrenched their shoulder out of his grasp and stumbled back a step, hand death gripping the railing as their left knee buckled. Their eyes remained fixed on the floor as they tensely waited for All for One’s reaction.

He sighed and stood. “Come, I will show you the rest of this base. We have many, and you will not have to stay at U.A. if you join, although that is an option. You certainly would not be alone.”

Akira glanced up at that, mentally running through the options in their class alone. Hitoshi wouldn’t, they have too much at risk. Katsuki has enough of a temper but clearly wasn’t at their base willingly. Koji could use animals to relay information, but he’s too sweet. Akira carefully watched All for One’s posture as they ran down their list of candidates and was shocked to see his body language change ever so slightly at Aoyama. What the fuck?

All for One chuckled darkly, pausing his explanation of how someone named the Doctor created Nomu. “Clever child. A shame the boy never got used to his quirk. Quirkless like he and my brother’s successor are either the best or worst candidates depending on their genetics.”

Successor… why is that familiar? Akira tried to think of when they last heard the word.

“The green-haired boy, Midoriya,” All for One supplied. “Though a surprise it was handed down to two Quirkless in a row, I suppose the Symbol of Peace was desperate.”

‘His quirk wasn’t forcibly manifested?’ Akira signed, hurt blossoming in their chest as they remembered the hours spent researching with him. I thought he understood.

“No, Mori,” All for One corrected and explained the origin of Midoriya’s quirk.

I knew All Might was a shitty person, but what the hell. Giving a child this burden? Akira snarled as the story got worse. They stumbled, peering in between the vats as they noticed something vaguely familiar. Akira took a step towards the vat, catching sight of a mutating Arata before All for One’s hand firmly squeezed their shoulder.

“Looking at them will just upset you. Know that none of them were missed and almost all were near death or longing for it when they came to us,” All for One murmured. “It is a shame the wielders of One for All have only gotten younger as my brother’s legacy has been passed on.”

Akira found themself nodding and cast one last look at the developing Nomu before letting All for One lead them onward. Their stomach did flips as the villain showed them the operating room where Ragdoll lay and another room with file cabinets filled with quirks, their owners, and missing person reports.

[MIRROR START]

Akira narrowly held back the bile until the last room where their knees gave out at the sight of failed experiments. Parts of children whose bodies were too weak to handle multiple quirks, adults who bore signs of extensive, prolonged injuries, and others with a hollowed-out appearance.

Akira shuddered, tears streaming down their face as All for One placed a hand on their back while looming over them. “It’s important to remember the past while looking forward to the future. We’ve perfected the process since these sacrificed their lives. You’ll see a whole new world at my side, and someday you’ll look back on this room in pride.”

[MIRROR END]

Akira numbly nodded, keenly aware of where they could end the day. All for One brought them back to the file cabinet room and set a stack of files in front of them to find suitable quirks for their plans. He left, locking the door with the promise of bringing food later. What started as getting to know the victims of his operation morphed into a growing morbid curiosity as Akira found a few Trump and Brute Regeneration quirks that could theoretically counteract or reverse the brainwashing depending on how the currently active quirk worked.

Some hours later, All for One brought dinner and a radio. Akira paused as they heard Eraser’s voice. “The ‘worst outcome’ I assumed in that situation was that the students would be at their wits’ end and be killed.”

Akira felt a little of their tension drain as Nezu mentioned there were no serious injuries from the attack. At least the others are safe.

“Can you say the same thing for the kidnapped Bakugo and Mori?” a reporter asked. Akira snorted as he used Katsuki’s attitude as an excuse to write him off as joining the League. “And no one knows anything about Mori. Their guardians are nowhere to be found, and their address is a P.O. box. What evidence do you have they are who they claim to be?”

Aizawa took responsibility for Katsuki’s violent tendencies before pausing a moment. “We are aware of Mori’s situation, and they highly value their privacy. I will not be discussing the personal life of one of my students, a minor, on live television.”

As Nezu reassured the press that the school was investigating with the police, Akira finished the food and stood, carefully moving away from All for One. “You’ll be exposed soon, Mori, and that will only bring more pain to the few you’ve exposed to your plan. Join me, and we will take the heat of whatever the Wrens bring.”

Akira looked between the files and All for One a few times before slinking forward. If I’m exposed this early, they’re going to die no matter-

Akira warped forward out of the room as an eighteen-wheeler slammed through the roof, sending chunks of concrete and drywall flying as they tried to dodge. Remembering the layout, they started to limp towards the warehouse floor but were abruptly pulled back to All for One’s side by dark whips made of crackling energy. All for One frowned as the dust settled and Best Jeanist, Mountain Lady, and Gang Orca rounded up the Nomu. He sighed, “It seems Tomura has failed again. Stay here, you wouldn’t survive the fight.”

Akira froze as they watched his oppressive aura strengthen and expand, All for One starting to float and become more muscular. “Let’s show these children what real power looks like,” he mused.

Notes:

Akira has a “max” of 4 clones because more puts too much of a strain on their body. Having 12 active for more than a few seconds wrecked them. Schooling your thoughts is pretty hard without training, especially under stress.  Finally had to break from the lyrics! And I was so close to the end, too ☹ “when at last we atone” just did not fit this chapter at all. Lol I can't believe I thought the lyrics fit for that long! Also, going back over this made me realize my early conceptualization for telepathy was based on system interactions. Originally thought they were based on actual interactions (different host, high school)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[silas-is-dead]

Let's start with your limbs. I will carve your name into the sensory tissue as many times as possible, then I will tear off small chunks of your exterior until you can finally grasp the meaning of pain. We will continue with cutting the non-essential wires, making sure that you still feel, of course. Then I'll simply rebind said wires into artistic shapes until you either catch on fire or short circuit; whichever happens sooner. You know physics was not my strong subject. That was art. And I'll make sure the end result is a perfect testimony of human hubris and divine perversion.

What you see is one of the few written segments so far that I'm truly satisfied with. Funnily enough, it is a threat.

There are some audio files collecting dust as well, but I want to make a compilation instead of posting them individually.

The text above without the formatting:

Let's start with your limbs. I will carve your name into the sensory tissue as many times as possible, then I will tear off small chunks of your exterior until you can finally grasp the meaning of pain. We will continue with cutting the non-essential wires, making sure that you still feel, of course. Then I'll simply rebind said wires into artistic shapes until you either catch on fire or short circuit; whichever happens sooner. You know physics was not my strong subject. That was art. And I'll make sure the end result is a perfect testimony of human hubris and divine perversion.

[communistkenobi]

if we want to talk about where trans men tend to be overrepresented in transphobic discourse, it’s in relation to scaremongering media profiles of detransitioners, framing trans men as misunderstood women with internalised misogyny who have mutilated our bodies and are now left ‘ruined’ because of HRT and surgery. This is used to argue for policies that restrict access to trans healthcare, especially for minors (notice how often we are talked about as “young girls”!) putting a ‘sympathetic’ face to transgender hysteria by talking about the “victims” of transgenderism. But this is still an incomplete picture without accounting for transmisogyny, as trans women are the “perpetrators” of this victimisation, convincing “confused young women” to cut off their breasts and take testosterone. It centres around the ‘corruption’ of femininity, as trans men forsake our ‘natural’ femaleness and trans women as ‘appropriating’ it.

This is why Matt Walsh, JKR, and other prominent transphobic figures asks the question “what is a woman?” and not “what is a man?”, it’s why Posie Parker advocates for armed cis men to go into women’s bathrooms to “protect women from men invading women’s spaces,” its why terfs are so fixated on trans women as ur-misogynists, it’s why right wing politicians like Pierre Poilievre & the Conservative Party of Canada focus their ire on blocking trans women from public spaces.

Saying this is not a denial of trans men as victims of transphobia (hello! I am a frequent one!) and its endlessly frustrating that these conversations get derailed into “well what about MY experience where XYZ horrible thing happened to me” as if the conversation about transphobia should only ever remain in the realm of interpersonal violence and victimisation. It’s very handy to stay in that arena because the only rebuttal to that tactic is to deny this random person’s experiences or “ignore their lived reality.” But I’m not talking about experience! Transphobia is a structural force in the world which means we don’t actually need to rely on individual accounts of violence to understand it. taking stock of that structure is only a “threat” to “trans masc voices” if you think structural discussions of oppression are de facto “misandrist”

[iw2kms]

he doesn’t love me and never will ahhhhhhhhh sorry that i’m not good enough for you, i already know

i’m undeserving of everyone

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Game Show Host Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I saw this request and was like this is such a cool request but what if we made him an evil game show host. Like one that would put contestants in deadly scenarios.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host who kidnaps all of the contestants and forces them to play this twisted game that he created for money. Don’t worry though, he rigged the entire game to be in your favor. It was discreet enough for the viewers not to really care but apparent enough for you to notice the favoritism. Did you care? Hell no!! As long as you were getting paid you and survived this whole ordeal could give a rats ass about what happened next. Even when you do manage to get certain questions wrong, he will just brush it off and pretend that it was just a warm up question. The contestants are definitely seething whenever they see this happening.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is a psychopath by nature. In each round, he presents the contestants with morally ambiguous dilemmas, enticing them with promises of grand rewards while dangling the threat of dire consequences for failure. Whether it's forcing them to choose between betraying a fellow contestant or facing a treacherous obstacle, he revels in their anguish, relishing the psychological torment he inflicts.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is doing everything in his power to make sure that you win the game. He can’t have his poor baby feeling upset if they fail to win the grand prize. He would absolutely give out the most insane questions that practically no one knows the answer to. The punishment for getting a few questions wrong is mutilation of certain body parts and if you get too many questions wrong then you’ll end up being sent to your death. While everyone is basically being tortured in their punishments, he’d never allow that to happen to you. At most he’d probably just flick your forehead and call it a day. I imagine that most of the people watching the show are people who paid for the contestants to be kidnapped and be brought there against their wishes. Everyone who is put onto his show is a horrible person, including yourself, and have done something to be warranted to be there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host bends all the rules of the game for you, providing subtle hints or covert assistance to ensure your safety. Although he has a strong desire to see others in pain and suffering, his love for you is stronger. At first justifies these actions as preserving the "entertainment value" of the show, but deep down, he's driven by an inexplicable desire to protect you.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host would baby you during your time there. He’d make a fuss whenever you tried to do anything remotely dangerous or touch some blood. I could totally see him using a baby voice to try to convince you to stop what you're doing. He has no shame, and everyone is looking at him with utter disbelief/confusion on their faces.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Oh No! Please don’t go over there! You might slip from all the blood on the ground! Come here let me carry you across.”

Viewers: “…”

The contestant with their leg cut off: “…”

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host thrives on the power he wields over his contestants, reveling in their suffering as they navigate his challenges. As the game progresses, his demeanor grows more twisted, enjoying the contestants' internal conflicts and emotional turmoil. He taunts them with mocking laughter, reveling in their discomfort and manipulating their decisions to heighten the drama. God forbid that you manage to develop a crush on someone while you are there. He’d absolutely lose it and do everything in his power to crush them. You best believe that he’s going to keep them alive for as long as possible and give them the worst punishments known to man.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host has cameras everywhere and when it's time for the contestants to rest for the night he’s going to be observing you. He’s a loser who doesn’t really know how to act around you without becoming a mess. In his spare time, he likes to just watch you through the cameras and imagine himself right next to you. He’s absolutely delulu about your feelings towards him and believes that you feel the same way. Even when you do manage to win this fucked up game, he’s not letting you go. There’s no way that he’s letting you leave after you managed to steal his heart. After this is all over, he’s taking you to his house and locking you there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host holds pride in knowing how many people are at the mercy of his hand. Has a minor God complex and has this skewed mindset about how everyone else is beneath him besides you. Believes that you were made just for him and that you're his one true love. Would rather die than give you up or allow anyone to “take you away from him”. He’s like an annoying roach and almost impossible to get rid of. He’s making sure to stay with you for as long as possible.

—

Yandere! Game Show Host strides onto the stage with a wicked gaze, his piercing gaze fixed on the contestants. His voice, a chilling blend of charm and malice, booms through the speakers as he welcomes the participants with a mocking flourish. Thom who were strapped onto a table with heavy objects over their heads.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright contestant number one, what is the mass of the Sun divided by Planck's constant in nanometers.

Contestant One: “HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!?!?!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Unfortunately, that's not the correct answer. You’ll now be facing the consequences.” In a matter of seconds, the heavy object comes flying down with alarming speed. Upon impact, it mercilessly crushes against their skull, unleashing an overwhelming and unimaginable force that distorts bone and flesh. Yandere! Game Show Host then makes his way towards you and begins to speak.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright, it's your turn now. No pressure, I know you’ll do great just take your time. Okay what’s 1 + 1?”

You: “2.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: "Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it."

Other Contestants: “What the hell!?!? How is this fair!?!!

[v1x3n]

TIME TRAVEL ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - torture, mockery, threats, drunk creeps, harassing, tension, blood.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

A quick yet cold splash to the face awoke you, you cough as your face splattered with freezing water, you jolt up and choke. “Mornin” a rough voice sounds from beside you. You peer over and see Johnny McTavish, “how’d you sleep, bonnie?” he mockingly sneers. “Fuck you” you spit at him, look down at the floor you had passed out on, the dried blood and the water spilled all over below you, you grip onto the floor and slowly look up, meeting your eyes with the door in the corner, you could see prices beefy build standing there on the other side of the bars that held you in this room. The gaps through the metal you could make out a stern yet upset face , one that you gotten used to when you had helped him ease his worries after a harsh mission, or when you had gotten hurt and he was dreadfully worried for you. You sometimes thought that maybe he was nicer and cared more about you than others but you know now that wasn't true - it couldn't be fucking true if this is how he treated you when one fucking person accused you of being the traitor.

Johnny glances over at price then his gaze arrives back at you, “divnt look at ‘im, look at me.” your eyes move down to the floor as you choke once more, a string of saliva drips from your mouth and platters onto the floor, your breath smelt like vomit, you scowl at the memories of last night. Prices fist clenches at the look of you, so so scared. Johnny's hand is brought to your jaw as he bends down, forcing you to look up at him, “are ye gunna talk?” Your continued silence was enough to make him wince. His fingers dug into your jaw, you whine at him and continue looking at him. Trying to make yourself seem the tiniest bit strong - even for one moment, but you knew he saw the nervous, scared look you had in your eyes. “It's not me!” you shout out, your eyes moving back to the spot where price has stood just moments before but he had vanished. You felt like you were almost hallucinating, between this and your dreams - your fucking stupid dreams - you felt like you were going insane. The only thing keeping you sane right now was the pure pain, it kept you realize that you were alive. Still fucking alive, living through all of this shit they are putting you through. 

You spit on his face, the small collection of saliva in your mouth manages to spew out onto him, he scoffs at you before swiping it off. “Fucken hell, lass.” that mocking glare peers into you, a sense of danger swells into your heart. “Let.” you shout, “me.” your voice gets louder after each work, “out!” you scream, trying to push him away from you, his breath hot on your face while he forces you closer, almost cheek to cheek. “Keep fucken shoutin’ nd yer gunna lose yer tongue.” the man sighs onto your cheeks. 

You shut up real fast, lips sealed and you glare at him, he steps up whilst realizing your jaw from his tight grip. Johnny stands above you and peers down at you. “Sit up” demanding whilst grabbing some pliers from his left pocket, he bends down - waiting for you to obey his command. 

Your knees are weak as you fumble, trying your hardest to get up but as you see the pliers you instantly freeze, “wait wait wait!” you panic, trying to back up. Your mutilated hand gripping onto behind you to scoot away. “Awh bonnie, don't be scared” he chuckles, grabbing onto your hair once more, forcing you closer, shards of hair ripping out as he pulls you by the scalp. He drags your hair back so you're looking up into his eyes, one of his rough hands on your head whilst the other holds onto the tool. “Open up, lassy” Johnny's harsh smile pulls a deep concern deep into your heart.

If you felt like you were in danger before who knows what the fuck you were feeling now.

His soul scarring smirk as he tortures one of his best friend is un-fucking-godly. “I said open up.” his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you, the pliers spin around and he brings the handle to your lips, forcing them apart. Your jaw opened by force by the tool, johnny eyes meet with yours as your stomach sinks. “Keep it open, jus’ like tha’” you decide to comply - too scared for what he would do if you wouldn't, you held your mouth wide open, eyes squeezed closed to prepare yourself for what johnny was about to do. The tool brings close towards your mouth and it chips at your front teeth, a spark of your tooth hits the ground. 

Your knees scrape against the floor as you unconsciously squirm away, he grips onto your scalp further, pulling your hair so you were kneeled in the position you were earlier. The pliers hit your tooth and create a clinking sound, the tool pulls onto it. Eyes squeezing together as the tooth pulls out and blood pools from the gum, “Aye” the man in front of you grunts and holds onto the tooth with his gimmick. Johnny's expression did not change as he ripped out your tooth, his smile plastered onto his face with a concentrated expression - simply watching his friend and past coworker pull teeth from the person he cared about. A trail of garnet lingering through your saliva and you spit out onto the floor - well, you try too but with Johnny holding your head back. The wetness trails down to your chin and down your neck, the blood mixing with your spit. You stayed silent as the pliers held up with your torn tooth. “Atta girl” he sneers once more and his hand detaches from your hair as his posture straightens up. 

That night had started off easy but soon it turned into hours on torture, the one memory replayed in your mind as johnny harmed you, over and over. Trying so desperately to get information out of you but you obviously wouldn't - and couldn't - say anything. The memory you kept repeating was after a long mission. You and the rest of the taskforce decided to go out for a few drinks at the closest bar. Long story short - all of yous were pissed. 

That night yous laughed around a small table and passed banter along to one another. You fumble over to the bar and bend over the counter, almost yelling over your thoughts running through your head. Then some fucking creep comes over and starts talking to you. 

God, you felt his eyes trail your body as his hand moved down your arm, you flinch back and politely mutter, “oh uhm s-sorry but i have a..boyfriend.” you lie but he ignores your almost plea and he gets closer towards you, “c’monn… he doesn't haf t’ know” he slurs - clearly tipsy. You gulp and back up, looking over at your table to say if anyone was looking. But the table had one person missing, john. Eyebrows furrow and you back up slightly, only to be stopped by a large frame, before you could turn around you heard his booming voice, “he bothering you, sweeth’art?” the gross man in front of you eyes widens, he steps away from you. “N-no he's okay,” you mumble, looking up at the man behind you. His furious face was kinda hot, but you were too focused on how his rough hand moves to your waist. “No need f’ a fight, hm? Leave the bar and get yourself home,” John smiles.

Before the man could speak, John growls, “if I see you talking t’ my girl again, you'll get your tiny cock cut off.” a dangerous smile plastered on his face as the tipsy man trembles away from both of yous and eventually out the bar doors.

“You seriously okay?” he peers down at you, his hands still lingering on your skin. “Oh yeah!” you smile, turning around to look up at him, “thanks, you uhm- you didn't need t’” a layer of blush covers your cheeks and your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. “Couldn't let that disgusting bastard touch you up like tha’” a distant shout from the table you were sitting at earlier interprets you and john's conversation, a scottish voice, “oi! Yous two quit flirtin’! Ye’are two drinks behind!!” another swarm of blush fills your cheeks and you two move back over to the table. 

You wish time travel was invented, maybe you would travel to that bar on that night, or maybe you would travel to before you met them - start it all over or change choices in your life. Ones that wouldn't end in betrayal and your heart broken. The things you would give to rewind this all. 

You gasp and reach out as John holds a dagger to your throat, “last chance” he dares - holding onto your jaw to hold you up whilst he knees behind you. His breath was hot on the back of your neck which in any other situation but this time it scared you. But after all he needed you to fear him. “We both know it's easier if you start talking, told you before. Last chance.” spitting at you and the dagger gently digs into your skin, creating a small slit. Your head leans back to try to get away from the pain but his strong grip on your jaw keeps you steady. The blade digging into you, almost too deep, “you have five seconds or i'm done with you.” after a few weeks you had finally given up. 

“Five” 

Your heart thumps, was he really going to do this?

“Four” 

Trying to squirm away from him yet once more his grip grew stronger. 

“Three” 

John's hand tightened on the weapon he had in front of your throat.

“Two” 

His voice grew deeper as the blade stings, drops of blood trails down your neck and onto your bare chest.

“One” 

Two hearts beat in that room as you were about to have your throat slit but John hesitates. 

Just as he went too, Kyle stomps into the room, “w-wait no stop!” the blade backs from your throat and the man backs up, “she-” Kyle breathes heavily - obviously trying to catch his breath. It was very clear he had just ran here. “She's not the traitor- w- was framed” Kyle's hands go down to his knees as his breathing slows down. You cough and hands fall to the floor as blood drops from the cut on your neck. Your face looks down at the floor and your hand reaches to your neck to stop the blood. John backs up and straightens himself out, staring down at the body before him trying to stop the blood. 

“Oh.”

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

55 for the whumper dialogue thing? :)

TW: Torture, abuse, kidnapping, threats, suffocation, references to mutilation, drowning, and electrocution, victim blaming

Tommy's face was buried in the snow, white and blood-red all he could see. He couldn’t breathe, head pushed down hard until was surrounded with nothing but ice and his own blood to breathe in and something pressing down on his ribs hard enough to make every beat of his heart agonising.

He'd had nightmares every fucking night about what would happen when- not if, when- Dream would break out, yet this was so much worse than anyone, so horrifying he knew he couldn’t be asleep. Dream was more frightening than anything his stupid little brain could come up with.

“Oh, Tommy!” Dream's voice was sing-song sweet as he suddenly yanked hard enough on Tommy's hair to tear out locks of it, pulling his face up just enough to catch a single breath, to deny him even the known horror of death. “I caught you.”

The pressure keeping Tommy pinned like a butterfly to a board suddenly abated, but he was far too exhausted and in too much pain to even consider moving, just curling up in on himself as Dream laughed.

“Not even trying to run anymore, aren’t you? Realised that it’s pointless, I guess. I'd almost be disappointed- I was enjoying myself. But it’s fine, Tommy, I have so much more fun things we can do! Again and again and again, forever and ever. I had a lot of time to think in the prison, and Quackity taught me so many fun games. What should I start with?”

He hummed, giving Tommy a moment to let his mind process what exactly he'd threatened- no, promised- before continuing. “I could break your leg and leave it to fester for so fucking long I’ll have to cut it off! Or I could tear out your eye, or tear off your ear. I could pull out your teeth and your nails with pliers, or I could electrocute you again and again until all you could do is curl up in a ball and cry. Ooh, or maybe I could burn you with cigars, or drown you in the sink, or stab you and just twist that knife around, real slow.”

Tommy must have been crying, because he could feel gentle hands wipe away his tears, Dream's voice going back to that sing-song tone. “Aww, Tommy, don’t be a baby. I’m just kidding, y’know? I'm not as bad as Quackity, so even though you deserve everything that fucking monster did back to you, I won’t do it. It’s no fun to hurt someone out of anger.”

“No, y’know what I’m going to do?” Tommy could hear a smile in Dream's voice- the cruel sort. “I'm not gonna lay a single finger on you. No, I’m going to be nice! I'll give you a nice bed, a roof over your head, all the food you can eat… and I'm going to find every single one of your friends, Tommy, and I’m going to make you watch as I do all that to them. Now, who should I start with? Tubbo seems like the obvious choice, but maybe Wilbur would-“

“Please. Dream, no, please.” Tommy's voice was raspy, and it hurt to speak even at a tone below a whisper. “Don’t- don't-“ He cut himself off with a sob.

“I can’t hear you, Tommy~ Mind repeating that for me?” Dream laughed, the sort of laugh that sounded like a child playing with their toys. Not cruel, not evil- something far worse. “I mean, if I can’t hear you, I'll just have to guess. Maybe you said ‘yes, Dream, please hurt my friends.’ I mean, you’re selfish enough, you got me tortured, but I do like you, so I’d just have to oblige, and it’d all be your fault-“

“No, no, no, don’t hurt them. You- you can hurt me. All you want. Just- just-“ Tommy broke off into pained coughs at talking at even a barely audible voice, more blood clouding out the snow until it was pure red. “I'll be good, promise. Like Exile. Just- if you don’t hurt them- if you just hurt me, I’ll- I'll do anything you want. Please…”

“Aww, look. You really can behave. I didn’t know you had that in you, you lil' brat.” Something in Dream's tone sounded almost Wilbur-like at that, and it made Tommy want to throw up. “Okay, okay. If you really want to play, who am I to turn that down? We're gonna have so much fun. Just remember, Tommy. You asked for this.”

As blood loss and pure exhaustion sent Tommy into the blissful nothing of unconsciousness, all he could hear was laughter.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧JJK Men as Yanderes ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Mahito, Choso Kamo

Word count: Each piece is roughly 750 words

Warnings: implied sabotage (Gojo, Toji, Choso), invasion of privacy (Gojo), kidnapping (Gojo, Sukuna), murder (Geto), kidnapping mention (Nanami, Toji), suicidal ideation (Nanami), light gore (Gojo, Sukuna, Mahito), reader injury (Sukuna), threats of bodily harm/mutilation (Mahito), sexual assault (Mahito), implied murder (Choso)

Satoru Gojo

You're nothing special. Not compared to him, at least. With no long line of sorcery or blue blood running through your veins, your family is just about as average as it gets.

You're nothing special---not to Jujutsu society, anyway. But who gives a shit about that? To Satoru, you're more than special.

You're everything.

He's always been the strongest, and yet, when he's with you, he just feels so weak.

Like a schoolgirl fawning over her latest crush, Satoru often finds himself checking his phone while away on missions, hoping to see your name appear on his screen. It doesn't have to be anything special—even a picture of some ugly animal with the caption "That's u, lol." is enough to get him going. Just knowing you were thinking of him at all, even in an unflattering light, makes him feel lightheaded in a way not even battle can emulate.

It's weird. It's embarrassing.

But he can't get enough.

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel, he'd kneel. If you asked him to beg, he'd beg. If you asked him to rip out a man's heart and present it to you, he'd ask if he should do so on a silver or gold platter.

If you asked him to let you go, however...

You sigh and fall back onto the couch. It'd been a week since your landlord mysteriously kicked you out, and Satoru took you in with a frankly suspicious eagerness. To say that he was an overbearing roommate was to put it lightly.

He'd follow you around the flat from room to room, enter your bedroom without knocking, and once, you even caught him sifting through your laundry. He wasn't even embarrassed about getting caught, let alone the fact that he had done it in the first place.

You decided to start searching for a new roommate after that.

"Y'know," Satoru says, slinging his arms around your shoulders---you hadn't even heard him approach. You quickly close your computer, which happens to have very clearly been showcasing cheap apartments in the area. "I could have just taken ya'. Snatched you up off the street like some kidnapper."

"What...?"

"---But I decided to play nice instead. I thought we could forge a real relationship that way. But you've just been pushing me away. I'm starting to think I've been too lenient with ya'. Like maybe I should have just locked you up instead."

"That isn't funny, Satoru."

"Who said I was joking?" You open your mouth to respond, but Satoru cuts you off before you get the chance. "You want dinner? I can order us takeout. Anywhere you'd like."

Drop it, his eyes say. You do.

That very night, you pack a bag and head to the nearest hotel. In the morning, you'll ask your job if they can transfer you to another city. For tonight, you'd like to just get a good night's rest without the lingering fear of waking up to his figure looming over you.

You wake up to familiar surroundings. It doesn't register as strange until you remember checking into a hotel the night prior. You shoot up to get a better look around. Sure enough, you're in your own bedroom, not the hotel's.

But how...?

You're sure you left last night. Did you dream it? You go to check your phone, but it's not there.

Just then, the door opens. "Oh, you're up," your roommate says.

"Satoru, what's---"

"I called you in sick for work today," he says casually, "and tomorrow. Actually, starting today, you're unemployed."

"What?!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of us. I've got more than enough money."

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel...If you asked him to beg...

If you asked him to let you go, however...

"C'mon, baby, you know I can't do that," he'd say, arms around your waist and head in your lap. "Ask me for something else, anything. Just not that. Do you want a pony? We can get a pony."

"No---"

"What about a cat? Or maybe you prefer dogs? I could get a purebred if you wanted one. I know it gets lonely being in the house all by yourself."

"I want to go outside, Satoru."

"We could get a fish tank, I guess. Though I doubt they'd make good company."

"Listen to me---"

"Actually, maybe that's for the best. Wouldn't want to compete for my lover's attention in my very own home, you know?"

Suguru Geto

When he was at his lowest, Suguru thought of you. It kept him going. It kept him sane.

So, of course, you were the first person he asked to join him in the creation of the new world. His world.

"Our world," he said, the look on his face desperate, pleading.

You declined, of course. His ideals went against everything you stood for as a Jujutsu sorcerer. As a person.

He took it well---or seemed to, at least. He flashed you a plastered-on smile and released your hands from his, leaving you with no further fuss.

For a while, that seemed to be the end of it.

Life went on. Though you would occasionally catch wind of his nefarious deeds, dealing with such things never fell within your purview. In fact, it almost seemed as if the higher-ups were purposefully keeping you from any cases that involved him.

You had all but forgotten about that fateful evening when a call from the higher-ups had you booking a flight to Okayama.

Apparently, there had been a sudden influx of cursed spirits in the region. And as the lead researcher in cursed phenomena, you were called to the scene.

You had already been given a file outlining the happenings, but out of courtesy, Yumi, the assistant supervisor assigned to the case alongside you, filled you in regardless.

"It's not that there's a higher rate of cursed spirits being born in this area," she said. "They're migrating here."

"Hmm," you look over the map on your tablet again; colour-coded dots mark the locations and grades of each (presumed) non-native sighting. The spacings are far from natural. They seem to have been made with intent, almost as if forming a pattern of some kind.

"We've set up a barrier to track the arrival of new cursed spirits. Nearly every curse from fourth to semi-first grade in the neighbouring towns has been coming here. Some of our windows have even spotted them moving together in groups."

"Was there anything strange about their behaviour? Like moving in single-file lines, with strange movements, or perhaps even speaking?" Yumi lights up.

"Yes, actually! They were all---"

Your screen flashes, suddenly restarting the tablet without your input.

"Huh...?"

"[Last]-San..." Your supervisor almost whispers. You tear your eyes from your screen to hers as she weakly holds up her tablet to you.

Over four hundred cursed spirits have been spotted crossing the Okayama border within the past fifteen minutes.

Your tablet finishes restarting, and you scramble to view the map again, hoping what you just saw was nothing more than a glitch.

The loading screen seems to take ages to complete, but when it does, the map shows exactly what you feared.

Oh. You get it now.

The pattern it was trying to spell out. It's "愛"

---"Love".

You hear a scream.

"Ah, it's good to see you again. How long has it been now?" A voice---one you're all too familiar with---says. "Two, no, maybe three years?" Suguru is wiping blood off of his hands. You don't want to look down. You can't look down.

Yumi is dead.

You looked down.

"I'm not sure why I phrased that like a question I didn't know the answer to," he says, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache. "I've been keeping track down to the days, you see."

"Were you...behind this?" You've never been one for combat. You can't use reverse cursed technique to save Yumi. You can't fight to save the others. There's nothing you can do.

You've never felt so helpless.

"I did," he admits casually. "I recently got my hands on a new curse. First-grade 'Pied Piper', its technique creates a sort of call-and-response between itself and other curses of a lower grade through a musical frequency only other curses can perceive. With that technique, I can manipulate the movements of curses I haven't yet acquired without leaving my residuals behind."

"But if it's coming from the technique of a curse you possess, your residuals would still be left behind," you counter.

"Ah, as quick on the uptake as always, [First]," he praises. "You're right, or you would be if this curse were under the control of my curse spirit manipulation. No, this curse was tamed, not subjugated."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He's going to kill you once he's finished explaining.

"I've always appreciated an inquisitive mind," he says. "especially when it's your inquisitive mind." Your mouth forms a vague 'O' shape as the realisation dawns on you.

"愛"

"Love"

...You're never getting away.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is someone who has never really been all that content with life.

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Sometimes, on his darkest days, Nanami thinks about what would have happened if he had joined Haibara—or better yet, if he had never even been born in the first place. If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?

But then he met you, and suddenly, the world didn't seem all that bad.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like your presence suddenly made all the wrongs in the world right, but it did make him feel like they all mattered just a little bit less. Like maybe all this suffering was worth it, if it also meant he could see you smile.

So, of course, he'd do anything to keep you safe. To protect that smile.

The easiest way to ensure that, of course, would be to clip your wings. To lock you away somewhere where only he could reach you. A songbird that only sings for him, a dove in a birdcage.

He'd treat you like royalty, of course. His job pays well, but he's a somewhat frugal person by nature, so he has plenty of savings lying around. Whatever you wanted, he'd get you.

As long as you stayed safe, he couldn't ask for anything more. Even if you didn't love him, as long as your smile could be protected, that would be enough.

He's in the middle of researching what kind of restraints would cause the least damage and irritation to your skin when he realises what a grave mistake he was about to make.

'If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?'

What if...

What if you started feeling that way, too?

What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?

He could offer you all the material things in the world, but if it comes at the price of your freedom, it might still not make you happy. After all, it was the same for him.

If money didn't make him happy, why would you be different?

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Nanami is worse.

He doesn't deserve you. It's with this thought in mind that he begins to avoid you. He refuses to meet your gaze, leaves the room when you enter, and declines all missions that involve your presence.

He feels like he's going crazy. Separation has made him sloppy and reckless. He comes home with more injuries, and a part of him thinks he deserves it.

Bags begin to form under his eyes as two weeks go by without the haven of your presence. He sees you everywhere now. The girl across the street is dressed in a substyle you like. The model in that magazine has your eyes. The cafe down the block is having a special on your coffee order.

"Nanamin, why're you avoiding [Last] all of a sudden? They do something to you?" Nanami scoffs at the remark but doesn't answer. He turns to leave but stops when Gojo continues. "Y'know, they actually came cryin' to me about it. Said they had no idea why you suddenly started treatin' 'em like they've got the plague." Nanami turns to look at Gojo, who's fiddling with his blindfold. "You should make up with them soon. Can't leave our cute little assistant supervisor feeling so down, you know?"

Nanami hates to admit it, but Gojo might be right.

'What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?'

Fuck. He can't do anything right.

He really doesn't deserve you, but what can he do? If he leaves, you won't smile anymore, but if he stays, you'll be smiling at a monster.

But what can he do? He'd do anything to protect that smile.

Even if it means hiding his fangs.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is a man who takes what he wants and doesn't care if he has to get his hands dirty in order to take it.

Naturally, this applies to you as well.

It's strange, he's never wanted someone as badly as he wants you. Not his past flings, not even his late wife.

Toji is no stranger to romance. He was married, after all. He knows love. It's a familiar feeling.

That's why he's inclined to believe that what he feels for you isn't love. No, what he feels for you is far too primal to be love. It's rough and all-consuming. It's nothing like the soothing feeling he had around his wife.

Love wraps around one's heart like a warm blanket. This wraps around his heart like a python.

But if it's not love, what is it?

Actually, scratch that. It doesn't matter.

Whatever it is, it's some form of desire. And if he desires something, then all he has to do is take it.

Yes, it's better to keep these kinds of things simple rather than getting tied up in technicalities.

There is a problem, however. He'd like nothing more than to just lock you up and keep you for himself, but with his somewhat unstable income and his habit of bouncing around from place to place, that isn't exactly feasible.

Ah, what to do...?

He could settle down or stop spending his money as soon as he earns it, but where's the fun in that?

No, rather than try to adapt to your lifestyle, he'd much rather force you to adapt to his. Still, he supposes some sacrifices will be necessary, as his lifestyle is currently only fit for one.

You'll have to quit your job since you'll be moving around from place to place alongside him, but he'll just take on some more jobs to cover the extra cost; it's no big deal.

He proposes the idea to you so matter-of-factly that it's almost as if he believes you to have already agreed to the plan beforehand. In reality, this is your first time hearing of such a thing, and you're so stunned that you momentarily lose your voice.

You've known this man for two, no, maybe three weeks, and yet he's asking you to drop everything and come overseas with him? You're not even friends! He's just a regular at the cafe you're employed with.

It dawns on you that he must be joking, so you chuckle awkwardly and avert your gaze. Perhaps you simply haven't known him long enough to gauge his sense of humour. You feel a little embarrassed for nearly having taken him so seriously.

Then, he shows you the plane tickets.

Bewildered, you end up being more blunt than you perhaps meant to: "I'm not going," you say, pushing his tickets back to him.

"Sweetheart," he says dryly. "I'm not asking." You shoot him a strained, confused smile, which quickly morphs into a more genuine one as the door chimes.

To think you'd ever be happy to serve a customer. It's a foreign sentiment, but if it means an end to this strange interaction, you'd happily serve a hundred---no, maybe even a thousand customers.

You take their order and get to making their drink, shooting quick glances at the man---Toji, you think---from behind the bar.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

It's days like this that you wish the company wasn't so stingy about hiring more than one person for shifts. You're about to clock out, and if that man is going to stay until closing, you'd really like to have a coworker walk you back to your car.

It's twenty minutes until closing when Toji finally leaves. You let out an unconscious sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders relax. That was weird, but you shouldn't have to see him again, right? He's going overseas tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, you won't see him again. Thank goodness.

It's with that thought in mind that you flip the "We're open!" sign to its side and lock the doors. It's only 6 PM, but the fall season means it's already dark. You shiver from a cool breeze as you make your way towards your car at last.

Huh. Flat tire.

Ryomen Sukuna

Those who know of Sukuna will inevitably feel sorry for anyone who happens to catch his gaze. Sorcerer or not, none will ever possess even a fraction of the strength he carries, and for someone like Sukuna, that means you're no better than a bug to be trampled on.

What a poor, pitiful thing you are. You must be treated more like a pet than a person. A plaything for him to toy with, to discard once you've ceased to entertain.

However, this interpretation couldn't be more wrong.

What others fail to realise is that Sukuna would never waste his time on someone he doesn't consider his equal. Weak as you may be, there's something about you that seems different in his eyes.

Like a precious gem left unpolished, there's a certain allure to you that only a trained eye could see, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else stake a claim on you first.

No, he'll be the one to bring out your true potential.

Sukuna has never met someone worthy of being his companion. This has never bothered him, however. Loneliness was not something he was familiar with. There are those who have tried, of course, to prove their worth, to stand by his side, but none have ever moved him.

None until you, that is.

The funny thing is that you don't even try to win his attention. You never once asked for his gaze to land upon you. And yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Sukuna doesn't know what to do with you. You make him feel things he's never felt before.

Is this weakness? Is it love?

Is there a difference between the two at all?

Should he kill you? Should he keep you?

What can he do to make these feelings go away? What can he do to ensure they never go away?

In exchange for not pillaging your homeland, the townspeople offer you up as a sacrifice. It was Uraume's idea.

At midnight, you're dragged out of the comfort of your home and tied to a stake, where you stay for hours. By dawn, you've worn yourself out with struggle, dried blood sticking to your hands and the ropes around your wrists, when a white-haired stranger comes to collect you.

The stranger undoes your bindings, but only the ones keeping you bound to the pole. You're dragged along like a dog on a leash for countless hours until you eventually arrive at the largest estate you've ever seen in your life. It's midday when you're untied and allowed to bathe. The warm water releases all the tension from your aching muscles, and as you bathe, the white-haired fellow replaces the garments you arrived in with robes made of fine silk.

The stranger's name is Uraume, they tell you. They'll be taking care of you until their master is ready to meet with you.

"What happens after that?" you ask tentatively.

Uruame flashes you a smile that refuses to answer.

Before you know it, a full week has passed you by. You're still yet to see this so-called master, but Uraume tells you not to worry. After all, the master has already seen you lots of times, they say.

The thought of being watched in secret sends a shiver down your spine.

Though the prison is large, you're confined to only one wing of the estate, and after a week of having nothing to do but wander, you have the entire layout memorized. Bored and unattended, you decide to venture out into the unknown past the garden's gates. There, you come face-to-face with the largest man you've ever laid eyes upon.

A hulking figure with four arms and fiery pink hair turns to you, and in an instant, you fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around you and the pain across your chest.

In truth, Sukuna had tried to kill you, but his technique missed your vitals. It takes him a moment of watching your blood ooze out of the open wound to realize he did it on purpose. Before he even realizes it, he's picked you up in his lower arms and applied reverse cursed technique to your injury. You've lost consciousness, and your pulse is weak, but you aren't dead. Relief floods through Sukuna's veins as he listens to your soft breathing.

From that day on, you're never to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. From that day on, Sukuna has someone worthy of standing by his side, not as a servant, nor a pet, but as a companion. From that day on, Sukuna has a lover.

Whether you like it or not.

Mahito

As a curse born from the hatred and fear humans feel towards their own kind, Mahito relishes humanity's anguish and despair. He kills without a second thought, not caring who he hurts or who gets swept up into his path of mass destruction.

So why is it that this particular human sways him so? Why is it that he thinks your soul looks pretty, just the way it is? Why does he want to touch you but not to warp you beyond repair?

Why does he want you to look at him? Why does he want to scoop your eyes out of your sockets so that you can never look away?

To be a curse is to always follow your own desires, no matter how contradictory or inconsistent---that's the motto that Mahito lives by.

So, of course, this philosophy applies to you as well.

It doesn't make sense, and he doesn't understand it. But that doesn't matter to him. Why would it? He's a curse, and curses take what they want. What he wants is you, so, of course, he has to take you, too.

Mahito doesn't spend long watching you before he makes his move. First, he has to check if you can even see curses to begin with. If you can, that'll make things easier. But if you can't...well, that'll be fun too.

He bumps into you at the train station around 2 AM. It was a late night at work, and you're now dead on your feet. There's no one around, so it's the perfect time for him to test you. He taps your shoulder with a smile.

If you don't react, he starts feeling you up, talking aloud about how much he wants you as his hands roam your body.

"Mm, you're so weak," he says, palm on your stomach. "Look at you, all unguarded. If I wanted to, I could take your soul and just—" he squeezes the flesh on your abdomen. "—until you go splat! Hmm, but I don't really want to do that. I wonder why?" His hand trails down to your hips, brushing past—but not quite landing on—your private areas.

"It's weird, isn't it? You can't even see me. You don't even know I exist. But I know you exist." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. "Humans usually wear rings when they're married, right? I wonder why you don't have one? You're such a catch," he giggles. "Ah, well, I guess it's better for me. Less work, y'know?Though, I would have liked to see the look on your face, coming home to dear, sweet hubby, all mangled up in your living room. I wouldn't even bother transfiguring him. No, I'd want you to see his face clearly, all contorted in pain with his guts splayed out all over the floor."

He follows you home. You still can't see him, but you at least seem a little aware of his presence, with the way you keep glancing over your shoulder, randomly picking up the pace and taking more turns than necessary.

How fascinating! You can't see him, and yet you can sense him? He's swooning already.

"Don't worry, [First]," he says, arms around your shoulders as you fumble with your keys. "You'll be able to see me soon. And after that, you're never getting rid of me."

If you do react, however, he holds himself back, opting to strike up a lighthearted conversation with you instead.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" He asks. "Don't you know the subway is dangerous at night?" You visibly bristle, clearly on guard. He grins.

"Do you need something?" You ask, clutching your bag to your chest and stepping back. His grin widens, easily closing the distance you've just created.

"You're lonely, aren't you? All you do is work; you don't even have any friends! It's kind of pathetic, really. That's okay, though, I like you anyway. I might be the only one."

"What do you---"

"I could help you, you know. Ease your loneliness, maybe?" He's touching you now. Nothing outright inappropriate, but you could smell his intentions from a mile away.

"No thanks," you say. The train stops, and you hurry off the platform. Fortunately, the stranger doesn't get off with you. He waves at you as the doors close, and you run all the way home.

Finally feeling safe, you don't bother to do anything more than kick off your shoes before collapsing on your bed. It creaks under your weight, then creaks again. You freeze, your eyes shooting open.

"Heya," the stranger says. "Fancy seeing you again."

Choso Kamo

If you were to describe him in one word, 'inexperienced' may be your best bet.

Though it's true that he has 'lived' for over one hundred and fifty years, he spent most of that time as a cursed womb, unable to truly experience the outside world for himself. Even after being incarnated and absorbing the memories of his host, Choso finds himself unable to relate to any of his body's experiences. He knows what love is and what lovers do, but only from a technical standpoint. To actually experience it is something he's never even dreamed of doing.

So, of course, when he starts feeling these things for you, he's unable to properly put a label on them. At first, he thinks he's sick, which isn't unreasonable, considering his rather long list of symptoms (fever, shakes, sweats, heart palpitations, and clouded mind, he notes dutifully).

However, that idea is quickly shut down. Being a cursed womb death painting, it's highly unlikely that he even can get sick; plus, his symptoms only seem to surface when you're around (or when he's thinking of you, which, admittedly, is often).

Did you curse him? No, you don't have a technique like that.

Then, what...?

It takes him a somewhat embarrassingly long time for him to realise the truth behind his feelings. It isn't until after he catches himself staring at your lips and thinking about how soft they'd feel against his that he concludes he likes you.

So, he's figured it out. Now what...?

Choso searches through his host's memories in an attempt to figure out how to woo you. Unfortunately for him, his host was a frat boy with commitment issues who knew more about one-night stands than how to build the foundations for an actual relationship.

So, Choso consults Yuki Tsukimo, who he, with his very limited circle of friends, considers to be an expert.

As expected, Yuki is ecstatic at the news that Choso has found his type. Immediately, she's giving an impromptu lecture on the ways of the heart.

"First, you have to figure out their type," she says, wagging a finger. "If it's a match, you're all good. If not, you either need to give up or double down."

Through Yuki's mentoring, Choso learned the general rules for signalling romantic interest. Flowers, chocolates, walks in the park, walks on the beach—a lot of walking in general, actually—candlelit dinner, pick-up lines—he's got it all memorized.

The problem is that his throat gets dry, and his knees lock up when he so much as thinks about talking to you.

So he takes to following you with his eyes instead.

"It's just until I gather the courage to talk to them," he tells himself. "I'll stop once I figure out their type."

Right, if he can't ask you about your interests, he'll just have to observe them instead.

So, he watches you. All the time. Eventually, he all but forgets about his previous plan of it being a temporary habit.

It's just so...addicting. Watching you go about your day like normal. Completely unaware of his presence in the shadows. 

He learns about your hobbies, your interests, what kind of shows you like, your favourite foods, whether you still keep stuffed animals in your room, and more. He has a mental folder of all your likes and dislikes. And while there are some things he’s not able to learn, some places he’s not able to follow, it’s enough. Just knowing this much is perfect. 

He doesn't do anything. He doesn't plan to, either. He’s content with just watching. It's comfortable like this. He doesn't want anything to change. So, he forgets about stopping, and instead sinks even deeper into his newfound obsession.

If he had it his way, things would stay like this forever. Him, never confessing, and you, never knowing. But, unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.

It was 10:15 AM, and you were at a local coffee shop by yourself when the barista handed you their number with your receipt. You shyly accepted, and just a day later, the two of you had plans for a date the next week.

Unfortunately, your 'date' canceled last minute and blocked you with no explanation.

It's a good thing, then, that your good friend Choso just so happened to bump into you, lending you his shoulder to cry on.

Well, there's no reason to waste a good dinner reservation, right?

You never do go back to that cafe, but if you did, you'd find the barista missing from the register.