#yandere rainbow six

[dearest-painter]

Two face or two sided? (PT.2)

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,canon injuries,crossovers like Payday 2 & Rainbow six siege,Y/N works for both rainbow six siege and with the Payday gang,Y/N is named Boogie man with R6s while is named Wolf with the payday gang,male reader,getting shot at,being hit,being kicked,being tased,bombs,robbing banks,cussing,Y/N is dating Doc/Gustave,Y/N speaks Swedish,Y/N IS WOLF FROM PAYDAY GANG,Dilf reader/Reader has a daughter who is 4 years old,google translate

Everyone knew that you were still upset but yet didn’t show it because your little girl Nani(yes from lilo and stitch) would ask and you did not want her to be upset. Your phone well real phone was turned off but had a burner phone that was like exactly like your expect it had a completely different owners name,one or bain’s many name. “Uppie daddy!” “You wanna fly?” “Mhm!!” You smiled as you picked her up then threw her up. She laughed as you kept throwing her up. “Feel bad for Y/N…Mans boyfriend probably lost all trust in him” “yeah but luckily the others didn’t find out he was there”

You heard them talking but hated it. The talking pissed you off. “Hey baby,wanna go get ice cream?” “Mhm! Yes peas daddy!” “Okay hun” She smiled happily as you went out to the car just so you can stop hearing them FUCKING talking about you.

while with the rainbow six siege they were all so pissed off! How did the payday gang get away from them!? No one has been able to caught them! Gustavo was in his room looking at pictures of you,the payday gang,and from your social media. He’s called you so many time but never got an answer. He wasn’t gonna tell the others even if he wished to but didn’t just so he can keep you close as he knows that [I forgot the boss] will fire you.

He saw how Sokol would hold you or Wolf like you were married. How Dallas would throw you over his shoulder while you just accept it completely with no fights. He hated it all because of how FUCKING close and touchy they are with you,they knew you were his! Yet they still held you as if they were dating you! He was seething! You did nothing wrong! Your simply just being forced to be there. Oh your poor daughter must be terrified for you and her life by these fucking assholes!! He had to be your savior once again as he always has been when your injured with them. “I promise Y/N…I’ll save you~”

[slamsuckingslut]

What is up party people

Sorry i disappeared for so long, school stuff and work stuff got too much for a while so i just kinda dipped.

You'd be surprised how stressful getting your cosmetology license, piercing license and bartending license is while also working 😭

I have a load of requests currently, so i will get to them soon, i pinky promise it gigachat.

So if anyone would like to send in more requests, i will be getting around to them sometime next weekend when i have off for my birthday!!

So, send in your requests or anything and I'll start probably thursday working on them all while i fly to see family.

[incorrectyanderesimulatorquotes]

Saki: We are throwing a Halloween party at our school. It’s gonna be the greatest thing ever!

Yui: Someone will die

Saki: Of fun!

Yui: And of murder

Saki: There’s going to be sake, pumpkins—

Yui: Bloody goblins

Saki: Fake ones. It’s gonna be awesome. We have decorations—

Yui: Dead people that we just murdered

Saki: Not murdered! But pictures of dead people from horror movies

Yui: Mutilated bodies

Saki: But fake ones. Candy, dancing, whisky. All kinds of food and snacks

Yui: Blood orphans

Saki: No—no blood orphans…I don’t know what that is

[that---one---kid]

Thermite x Neighbor! Reader

Sorry for the long hiatus y'all, I started college and shit has been ROUGH, this story is a bit more raunchy, more of my own fantasies so if you have issues with an older guy or a younger girl I'd sit this one out. And I apologize for the writing. It's kind of all over the place and weirdly written, but it'll get better as I get back into writing. N/N-nickname ex-Megan, meg

It was wrong, Jordan knew that, he didn't need that pestering devil on his shoulder reminding him, but God, did it feel right. Coming home from a long-way mission to his empty house in a quiet, perfectly cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood. An otherwise boring home to come back to, if it wasn't for you.

Summer in Texas isn't usually something to be excited about, but ever since he actually met his neighbors last June, Jordan can't help but fantasize about summer all year long. It started when he came home and actually stayed for a while. Harry had been killed, Deimos was on the loose and Rainbow was in shambles, but for the time being it was disbanded until Gustave, Eliza, Yuniko, Taiana, and himself could figure out what to do with their respective squadron. Stepping out in the morning to get the paper instead of coming home to it being piled up, same with the mail, was strange, and seeing neighbors he'd lived next to for years that he knew nothing about was even stranger. Little did he know, the people across from his house would soon be his favorite neighbors, a nice perfectly cookie-cutter couple, a dad with a high-paying corporate job, a wife who did menial work and spent most of her time gardening or out with friends, a son in his twenty-somethings starting a family close by, and a daughter in her sophomore year of college. Jordan obviously didn't see either of the two kids much, only in passing did he hear of the daughter, Y/N, when your mom would complain about you or praise you, or both.  But summer had rolled around faster than he had noticed since you came home from college.

In hindsight it was a bad idea, weird on his part to even talk to some 19 year old, but, God, were you hard to resist wanting to talk to. Young, smart, full of life and beautiful by all means. Innocent conversations when you'd walk out to your car, small talk when you'd water the front yard turned into longer talks. He knew it was wrong, God, it was wrong, but damn it all if it wasn't worth it.

It started out with him inviting you into his house on a hot day, offering sweet tea to cool off when he caught sight of you on a run.  "Oh, um, yeah, thank you, Mr. Trace." 'Mr. Trace. Jordan always hated being called 'Mr. Trace'. It made him feel old, a reminder he'd rather go without, but something about it coming from your plush lips, your smooth youthful voice made him like it. You take the glass from him, the condensation running down your hand as you bring it up to your mouth, plush lips parting for it, small water droplets falling onto your chest and sliding into your sports bra. Jordan takes a gulp, his mouth having gone dry suddenly as he rips his stare from following any further. You sigh as you finish your tea, flushed face looking at him so sweetly. "Thank you, Mr. Trace. I really appreciate it." The way your tongue darts out to lick your lips and the way you look at him is enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Of course, N/N." And that was the beginning of his downfall. He knew it was creepy and bordering-no, WAS, stalking, but he made a point to take note and memorize your running schedule. And like clock work he'd coincidentally be outside to chat with you, either watering his lawn or reading. He didn't only get closer with you, though, he got much closer with your family. "Well, we were planning on going to the beach house in South Carolina for awhile," Your mom says, motioning to your dad. "And we were wondering if you'd be willing to keep an eye on the house while we're gone." Your mom asks almost sheepishly and it takes Jordan by surprise for a moment. "Yeah that shouldn't be a problem, is Y/N going to be gone most of the time? Or going with y'all?" Your mother almost sighs, "No, she has her sports conditioning this summer, but I just don't want her sneaking in her little boyfriend or friends. I know it's short notice but we'll be leaving next week and if you could just shoot me a text if you see anyone who isn't her i'd really appreciate it." Boyfriend? You had never mentioned one. The slight sting of jealousy Jordan feels rising in his stomach is completely unfounded, but not completely foreign to him. The same feeling arising when he'd see you chat with some neighbor boys that seemed to also be home from college. "Of course, it'd be no problem really."

The next day on your run you actually stopped and initiated conversation for once. "I hear you're my new babysitter." You say sarcastically while taking off your headphones. Jordan looks up from his book, his breath briefly catching in his throat as he takes in sight of you. It was an unusually hot day and you were dressed for it. Tinier spandex shorts than normal that perfectly outlined your hips and a tight sports bra contrasted beautifully against your sweat shinned skin that looked more tantalizing than usual. "You don't have to actually watch me, Mr. Trace, I don't know why they treat me like a kid." A slight smile graced your lips, afterall it was somewhat endearing. Jordan peeled his eyes away from your body only to get lost in your face, fantasies running wild as he can't help but do a once over of all of you.  "Aw, it's really no problem. Your mom just told me to keep an eye out for a boyfriend." Jordan teases. Your face turns more red than it already is. "Haha, I wouldn't call him that, but fair enough-" You're cut off when you trip on an uneven pavement while walking up towards jordan. With his cat-like trained reflexes he jumps up from his seat to grab you. Jordan catches you, one hand lands on your lower hip, thumb resting oh-so-close to your bikini lines. His other hand wrapped around your back, pulling you sweat slicked body as close as it could get to him. "You okay?" Jordan says, concern evident in his voice, his mouth so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath tickle the skin. A shiver runs down your spine and suddenly your knees feel weak and you feel the sudden urge to kiss him. "Uh, yea, sorry." You say somewhat breathlessly. Jordan makes sure you're alright before his brain processes where his hands had just been. "Sorry, I didn't mean to uh," Jordan gestures his hands vaguely towards you. "Oh no! It's totally fine! Sorry I didn't mean to put you in that position." You laugh awkwardly while finding your footing.  Before Jordan could tell you that it was completely fine and that he'd love to let his hands wander your beautifully sculpted body again you were already on your way back to your house. "I'll see you later, Mr. Trace!" You yell before turning back to your jog. Jordan was thankful that you didn't notice the hard on he was sporting, your absence leaving his mind to wander as much as he desired. Turning heel he quickly retreated inside his home to relieve himself.

    Quickly, he walked into his house, shutting the door with urgency behind him. Making his way to his bedroom, he slips off his shoes and unbuckles his pants, shimming them off just enough to slip them half way down his thigh before falling back into bed, releasing his throbbing cock from his boxers. Rough and calloused hands tease the tip of his weeping cock, his thumb swiping over the sensitive tip, smearing his precum with it. Grabbing his length whole, he lets out a shuddering breath. His thoughts wander back to you, the way your skin felt in his touch, soft and smooth. How smooth your toned legs looked, how they would feel wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you. Your pillowy lips spilling out sweet ecstasy as you beg for him to fuck you. Jordan quickened his pace, feeling his pulse in his throat. Imagining what you would look like underneath your tight sports bra, how your perky breasts would look as he slammed you into the mattress as you moaned his name. Thinking back to how you said his name, Mr. Trace, you begging for his cum, the way your flushed face looked and how it would look while you choke on him. Jordan's grip tightened as he released with a soft moan of your name. Lying on his bed he lets his shallow breaths fill the silent room, the sound of rushing blood and his own heartbeat is all he hears. After some time Jordan throws his legs over the side of the bed, sliding off his pants the rest of the way off and walks towards his bathroom. Wiping off his stomach Jordan splashed the warm water in his face, staring at his reflection and sighing. "Ughh, Y/N, you're going to be the death of me."

    The day your parents left came and evening came sooner. Jordan had been pacing patiently waiting for you to get back from swimming at 7. He never paced. You had sent him a text asking him to come over for dinner earlier that day, telling your parents that it was a nice way to thank him for watching over the house and you while they're away, of course your mother agreed, thinking it was a lovely idea. Jordan glances at his phone again, checking the time, 6:42 glared back at him. Groaning, Jordan walked back to his bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror. Looking at his trimmed stubble Jordan fiddles with his hair, despite slicking it back with his usual gel it doesn't seem to want to stay, small hairs falling into his face, finally deciding just to leave it. After swishing mouthwash for the 4th time that night Jordan feels his phone vibrate. Quickly fishing it out of his pocket he reads your message. "Back from swim come over whenever🏊‍♀️" Jordan smiles nervously, God, he felt like he was in high school all over again. Why oh why was he so nervous over this? Taking one last look in the mirror he grabs his phone and sends a quick, "Coming" text. Jordan grabs his keys and heads out the door, hitting a light jog across the street.

Walking up the stairs Jordan takes a deep breath, settling his nerves before knocking twice. The solid wood door feels heavy even as he knocks and it's not before he hears footsteps running downstairs. The door opens quickly, revealing you, a tight tank top, sports shorts and wet hair. Jordan takes a sharp inhale, hiding it with a smile. Your cheery face greets him, the soft smell of chlorine is noticeable even at the distance he's at, not an unpleasant aroma. "Hey! C'mon in!" You say while leading him in, closing the door behind you. Walking through the living room you guide him to the kitchen. "Sorry, I just started making the spaghetti-it's the only thing I really know how to make, haha," Jordan smiles, taking a seat at the bar seats across the kitchen counter. " So what do you survive off of in the dorms?" He asks, feeling somewhat awkward and unsure of what to talk about. "Mostly redbarrens, it's kinda a goated dinner. Especially the supreme pizza." There's more light banter until you declare that the clearly overcooked pasta is done. After serving you both a plate you excuse yourself. "Oh, one second," You say while walking across the kitchen and out of sight into the butlers pantry. "Do you like Pinot Noir or Chianti?" You call out. Jordan stands up, walks over to the kitchen sink area, and rests his back against the counter. "Are you even old enough to drink?" He asks in a playful tone, a smirk pulling at his lips. You pop your head from around the corner, smiling and holding a bottle of wine. "Depends. Are you a snitch?" You say in a half-joking tone. "Do me a favor and grab some glasses from that cabinet closest to you." Jordan does as told and grabs two wine glasses, setting them on the counter. You open the bottle and pour you both a generous glass. "Is this a normal pour back at school?" He asks, half laughing. You smirk, leaning over the counter. "Usually, yeah. It's not common to have such nice wine, I've grown accustomed to Coors banquet." Jordan's eyes trail down your sternum. Eyes half lidded you give him a sly smirk.  "Well, I wouldn't want the food to get cold." You say, grabbing your glass and heading to the kitchen table, Jordan following close behind.

After dinner and a bottle of wine later you're both on the living room sofa, watching some hallmark movie. The wine was really setting in now, a warm fuzzy feeling filling both of you as you sit next to Jordan, feet propped up on the coffee table. You take another sip from your glass, slurring your words slightly as you suddenly sit up, leaning dangerously close to him. "Do you want another glass?" You ask, a small laugh follows. Jordan smiles lazily, feeling the effects of the wine himself. "I think I'm all good, thank you." His voice comes out smooth, it sends chills down your spine.Jordan can't help but look at your parted lips, the alcohol flushing your cheeks and swelling slightly parted your lips. The way you look at him is almost predatory. "Y'know, Mr. Trace," You say, shifting so that you're on your knees facing towards him. Jordan shifts his body slightly to face towards you, his heartbeat beginning to quicken and cheeks feeling impossibly hot. "I've alwaaays thought you looked so gooood when you're doing yard work." You're clearly drunk but Jordan can't bring himself to think of anything other than your pretty words and how your nipples are hard beneath that thin, low cut tank top. "Yeah? You think so?" He says, "Yeeeaah," You smile, putting both your hands on his chest, you push him against the soft cushions, throwing right your leg over his thighs, straddling him you pull your face close to his, lips brushing against his. Jordan's breath hitches at the sudden closeness. "Y/N..."He breathes out. This is wrong. So wrong. But, God, does it feel so good. "I've seen the way you look at me, Jordan," He shudders at your words, his cock growing achingly hard underneath you. Part of him hoped you wouldn't notice and the other part wanted to bend you over the coffee table and destroy you. "We shouldn't.." He says, mentally kicking himself for doing the moral thing. It's too late though because you're already taking off that tight little tank top and jordans grabbing your waist for a heated kiss. You slam your lips into his in a frenzied kiss. Gasping as you pull away wrapping your hands around his neck, standing up you pull him up with you without breaking the kiss. The height difference now an inconvenience, you hitch your leg onto Jordan's waist. Taking this as a sign, Jordan reaches down and grabs your ass, giving it a squeeze before lifting your weight. Jumping up, you wrap your other leg around his waist. Jordan trails his kisses down your neck as you throw your head back in a gasp. "Th-the room around the cornerrr-" You cut yourself off with a whine when Jordan hits the sweet spot on your neck. He readjusts you and carries you to the bedroom. Letting you down, you break the kiss, taking his hand and leading him  to the large, cushy canopy bed. Jordan takes a second to look around. "Is this your parent's room?" He asked while you pull him down into the bed with you. "Don't tell me you want to stop." You pout, saying it so sweetly that it almost absolves him of the sin he's about to commit. As if he could care less.

Jordan quickly rips off his shirt, hastily unbuckling his belt while you slip off your shorts, revealing a lacey red thong that barely covers anything. Jordan's mouth water at the sight. "God, you are a minx." He says, his voice dripping with lust. You bat your eyes at him, "less talky, please," You say, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back in. Jordans' hands trail down your body, thumbs caressing your lower stomach before trailing lower, hooking them around the hem of your panties. You moan into his mouth, feeling your own desire building in your stomach. "Please, Jordan, I need you," You say breathlessly into the kiss. Jordan groans at your words, feeling his own hardness,  rutting his hips against your clothed cunt, the wetness evident. "You want it, baby.." He asks, pulling away to drink in the sight of you completely undone below him. "Please, Jordan, I need you to fuck me." With a final plea, Jordan pulls down your panties, rubbing the head of his cock against your heat. "Fuck..are you sure?'" he asks a final time, barely able to contain himself from ramming into you. Silence follows, slight concern settling into his stomach. You shift nervously under him. "I've just never...gone this far with a guy before..." You mumble, embarrassment heating up your face. Jordan was taken by surprise. "Oh, did you want to-" "No! Uhh, no, just..be gentle, please." You quickly cut him off. Jordan's gaze softens, hands caressing your face. "I don't think your first time should be with-" "But I want it to be you!" You whine. "All I hear about guys my age is how much it sucks, I really want someone hot and who knows what they're doing and..." You trail off, hands roaming Jordans' toned torso. "Someone who..?" He continues, eyes locked on your lips.  "Someone older.."  Jordan smirks. "Hmm, you want someone who knows what they're doing?" You nod sheepishly. Jordan captures you in another kiss. Slowly, he brings the head of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in his head into your tight hole. You let out a whine, squirming from the foreign sensation. "J-Jordan, mmgh, you're so-ugh-big!" Jordan groans as he pushes in. "You're doing so good, baby," He coos into your ear. After a moment to adjust he pushes the rest of his length in. Jordan lets out a moan, your tightness feeling heavenly. "Plea-please! Keep moving!" You let out a whine. Jordan obeys almost immediately, slowly at first, the sound of wetness and your moans filling the room. Jordan leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pump into you. "Ah-I think, i'm gonna-mmmmmff-" Jordan kisses your neck, sucking on your sweet spot. "Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?" Your panting tells him all he needs to know as he feels your muscles contract around him. "Ugh-Jordan!" You let out a yelp as you cum. "Oh, God!" Jordan grits out through clenched teeth as he holds your body close, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finishes.

    Panting, Jordan pulls out, collapsing next to you. Holding you close, he props himself up on one shoulder, taking in your fucked out expression. Sweat shinned and flushed face, you look at him and give a weak smile. "That was amazing, Mr. Trace." You say softly. "Please, call me Jordan." He chuckles and smiles back.  Your phone ringing cuts off the intimate moment, you scramble across the bed to grab it from your shorts. "Hey mom! Yeah everything went great! Yeah, I'm going to bed soon, it's been a loooong night!"

[yanderes-galore]

Is it possible for you to make a harem/poly main 6 that got infected with the Virus and they are all yandere for the Darling now? As in a general concept of how it happened and how it's going basically if you can, thank you!

This deals with a lot of characters so it will be a general overview. Sorry it isn't long... I struggle with multiple characters.

Main Story Concepts: Twilight, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity

Side Story Concepts: Cadance, Queen Chrysalis

Yandere Virus! Mane Six Concept - Patient Zero

(Short Aftermath Idea)

Pairing: Romantic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Yandere virus, Feral/Animalistic behavior, Overprotective behavior, Mind break, Dark themes, Forced relationship(s) implied.

This concept is essentially a recap/aftermath concept.

By this time the Mane Six are infected, Rarity eventually succumbing just like the rest of them.

So now you have six overprotective/possessive ponies surrounding you wherever you go.

I imagine they originally fight with one another, assuming one is going to hurt you.

We've seen something similar in the Rainbow and Pinkie concepts.

Although... eventually they realize they all like you just as much.

They vaguely know it's due to the virus but they can barely focus on anything else right now.

The virus drives them all closer to you... so to soothe all their desperation, they agree to share.

We see this in the Cadance concept which was meant as a loose continuation.

They're like a pack, six infected ponies all animalistic in nature.

They aren't like themselves anymore.

They've neglected themselves... They're nearly feral...

By the conclusion of this curse, Ponyville is a messy wasteland.

Twilight is barely even able to comprehend what she's done... She wanted you all to herself...

This isn't your fault...

This is hers.

However... Even with her personal feelings and the virus flooding her system... She doesn't mind sharing.

If Twilight were to share her beloved with anypony, it would be the Mane Six.

They... sorta have their same hobbies.

Twilight speaks to you of spells she's reading, you silently hope she's looking for a cure but you doubt it.

Fluttershy takes you on walks through the woods, although the animals keep running from the both of you....

Applejack and Pinkie Pie both try to make you food to care for you.

Rainbow Dash acts as a bodyguard, racing around to make sure no pony gets any ideas.

All while Rarity makes you little outfits like usual.

They all love you, they all play their part...

But you don't see them as your friends anymore.

By the end of this journey you're exhausted, you've given up.

You've accepted the fact you're a Harbinger of obsession and disease.

You want to resent Twilight... But you can't hate all of them.

Twilight may have caused it... Yet you made it worse.

Perhaps this is what you deserve.

To be surrounded by destruction and the obsessive desires of your friends.

You don’t consider them friends... Or anything more.

You want this all to end but wherever you go... The curse follows.

You feel tethered to Ponyville.

After all... If you don't stay here, you'll only cause more trouble.

You tolerate it... Even though you hate it...

You want other ponies safe... So you listen and stay away from other ponies.

You stay with the Mane Six...

They'll take care of you... They care.

You're given love, affection, all of it... even if it's artificially sweet.

You accept your fate... which is why fear pools in your stomach when you see a certain pink alicorn enter Ponyville.

You try your best not to be found...

For the sake of not only you... But the rest of Equestria... You do not need to be saved.

[rel124c41]

SUNDO. jade leech

This is the beginning: you walk into Osaka Bay, sound asleep.  This is the end: you are dragged into Osaka Bay, wide awake … and screaming.

tags: japanese mythology & folklore, religious imagery & symbolism, yokai AU, attempted rape/non-con, inspired by Den lille Havfrue by Hans Christian Andersen, sleepwalking, yandere, blood and gore, immortality, declaration of love, did andersen want to fuck fish? i think so!

word count: 9,114

Timid, you step into the water. 

Behind closed eyelids, the muscle and nerves of your eyeball flicker like insect wings. Your eyelashes may rest delicate in the closed oyster position but your eyeballs move alert underneath the thin skin. 

By closing your eyes, it allows you to see a new world. Sight often blocks and trumps other sensations. With purpose, you narrow yourself to reflect upon the touch of a breeze, the sound of cicadas, and the shape of water embracing your ankles. You spread yourself out, imaging yourself in the wind, and then your eyes pulse under your eyelid skin. 

You fly deeper into the lake with a yell of, “I see you!” And suddenly, you shrink down to the size of a six year old child from your adult body, missing your top left canine tooth and wearing a kimono pattern with abstract art of yellow squares and violet rectangles.

In the water, a boy laughs and says, “That can’t be true!”

“Yes it is!”

“But your eyes are closed!”

Eager hands squirm and dive through the water. Fingers reach out like hawk talons, squeezing unsqueezable water. In your hark of the earth, you hear the fierce splashes of you punching into the water to grab your friend. Laughing, you trip over yourself, falling breast first in water, managing to pick yourself up in time just as the lake licks at your throat. Three different voices laugh at you but you only hunt for one.

“I swear, I see you!”

“No way!”

In your attentiveness of your surroundings, you feel the smile that grows on your face. Water leaps up at your cheeks like sparks of a fire. When you laugh, salt slips in your mouth. Suddenly, you change angles and reach to your right instead of your left. The water there moves in a panic. Laughing, you bring up both your hands, readying to push them into the water. 

The sun is warm. The water is cool. From the tree, in the breeze, thousands of leaves say in one voice,  “My little Muyūbyō. My little sleepwalker. You are going too deep.”

“Mom?”

The hanging leaves are green and lush. “You’re going too deep, (Name).” 

You wake up. The rainbow of ways one can wake up is endless and numerous. However, no one really considers waking up to be a varying, changeable state of things. Each unique rise into the waking realm differs slightly.

Today, you wake up like a crab has pinched firmly the tendon running down your upper hamstring. Today, you wake up shin-deep in the lake. Your mother is right. You are going too deep. The water usually stays up to your ankles. The sight greatly disturbs you and your hamstring tendon drums with the full body pain.

That boy. You wonder on the identity of that young boy. Why could you not catch him if you had him right in your sight? Your seeing varies often; sometimes the world is as clear as newly polished glass and other times you are trying to look through a looking glass that is grime and sand stained. His voice – his voice was almost as familiar as your mother's warning. 

Eyes enucleated, you would always know your mother’s voice. 

Backpedaling, you move and watch until the embrace around your legs slides down goosebumped skin and lies quivering around your ankles.

You look at the sunrise peering over the lake. Hinode starts the upward ascend, pink and orange light falling over the world. Water almost shimmers around your ankles with the welcome benevolence of the rising sun. 

Yet with its welcome comes the banishment of the only company you have. Well, for the most part. Even the mischievous kappa, river spirits, will vanish with the sun. You look for them nonetheless, knowing you make sure to fall asleep with cucumbers in your nightwear; food for the yokai, just to certain their volatile hungers are quelled. 

You — 

You have always been able to see yokai. 

Your parents have called you blessed because of it. As a sleepwalker, you are closer to the spirit world than the normal, spirit-blind citizens of the island Kyushu. Despite being blessed, your parents kept your habit of sleepwalking out of the village’s hippocampus — as they would surely see it as a mark of possession. 

So much for parental precaution, you are already seen as the village’s resident boogeyman even without them knowing you move in nightly rest. 

Perhaps it is a fault of your own.

Perhaps the blame lies on your parents.

You can pinpoint where it went wrong though. Since the incident, you have known you would be kindred to the boogeyman. Despite all the piling up evidence, there is no clearly given perpetrator. Who does the blame of the crime go to for being a boogeyman against one’s will? The crime of that day and then the crime of being yourself. You: eldritch evil in human clothings.

Sekia (the walking world) and ikai (the ‘other’ world), you walk between those and that is a crime. 

You would never point the fingers at your God though. The very thought of it makes your stomach tighten like rope and you press your palms flat into your abdomen to resist the urge to puke. God, your last remaining parent.

Shinto is an indigenous faith in Japan but you are born of a time period far too back to even toy with the idea of calling it indigenous. Shinto believes that one is born fundamentally good but struggles with evil spirits. You are born with a mark of evil. Born bad, you defy the religion you preach, practice, and love as if it is an old friend. 

Despite that, where you live is in a Shinto shrine, atop a mountain, by a lake. 

And, with a frown blemishing your pretty face, you look behind, up at the mountain you have to climb to go home. 

Behind the Shinto shrine is a clothesline for drying cottons and silks. It stretches, a pinned butterfly wing, from tree to tree. All that hangs from them is only wet at the bottom. You squeeze the bottom of the nightwear you put there the previous day. Still damp. Ah, if only the elevation was not so high up. This would dry up quicker if I was living off the mountain. It is April and spring is ushering in. Still, it is mildly cold at the isolated point where you live.

You do not think you could stomach the air down in the village. Thin air is all you know. Adapting to glutinous air would be like drowning on land, a paradox regarding your lungs. You pull your nightwear off the skin covering your twin lungs, one hand on each tomoerio of the yogi.  

It gathers delicately around your hamstrings before you pull it around the crook of your elbow. Straightening it out, you add the damp fabric to the clothesline. One arm cupping your nude breasts, you compare the height of water to previous nightwear. There is slight discoloration, the bottom a dark gray and navy blue and the rest white and blue as cornflower. 

You tense when you look down the clothesline. Finding by one by one that the height of damp decreases in a staircase pattern. It would make sense. Ones that have been on the clothesline longer would be less soaked. But you know better.

You have been going deeper. You have no idea why but you have been walking deeper into the lake.

When you were very young – on the journey to turn two years old in a month or so – you were found in the lake. Above, in the mountaintop, horrified, mournful screams stabbed the air. Your name – screamed with tears and fright in each letter – soared like a tengu bird. Sleeping upright, you were unaware until a hand grabbed you and wrenched you back into the world. 

“(Name). Oh my, (Name), my baby!”

When your fretful mother realizes years later that you cannot stop sleepwalking, she only asks one thing of you: to not go deeper than your ankles. You claw at the softest on your chest to get your heart to stop pounding so fretful. Next time, you will reel yourself back before you disobey.

There are a hundred eyes peeking through the paper sliding doors and a trail of footsteps that are too petite to be yours trailing across the cypress wood floors of your home. These are curing images to your heart. 

With a smile and hum, you trail a finger across the wall. Multiple eyes blink at the motion like a herd of butterfly wings twitching at a breeze. Leaving behind wet, much larger footprints, you walk through the Shinto shrine to your bedroom. It is time to dress for the arising sun. The sticky smell of stale sulfur and sea trails after you. The yokai of your father’s Shino shrine welcome this familiar scent.

You never had any childhood friends. Quite a desolate thought, yes? Not entirely for you. Never having childhood friends, you cannot sensibly yearn for it with a desperate longing or be saddened by the statement. You never had any childhood friends.

For some reason, you have false snippets of a sekai, a waking world, with a childhood friend with one sun eye and one moon eye. Blended between the realities like you are. And an odd shattered dream made by your hippocampus made of yearning you do not have.

Origami is today’s shared activity. With slices of colored paper the boy has gifted you, you take to folding them into numerous animals. Creasing paper between your fingers and pinching edges with your nails. You work diligently on yours, spine facing the mountain. 

You squish down the snake-head-shape the paper has fallen into until you get the diamond you want. With a prideful smile, you continue, fold by fold. You pull bottom up and get an open mouth; when you push both edges inward, you get the squashed wings done, halfway there.

Spine facing the lake, your companion continues on with his. His nails are whetted like a cleaver so he gets preciser and cleaner edges with his origami. Despite the fact he could make something more challenging, his design is simpler and less complicated than yours. He is just finishing up the tail by folding the right corner of the tiny triangle into the middle. 

“Azul’s been making a lot of frogs. He says each frog he makes is another coin his future self will soon have.”

“There must be a whole army of them by now then!”

“A militia is more appropriate. I worry one day he will find himself lying down in the grave he has made, drowning under washi paper. The folly of his want.” The boy says this with a facade’s frown; there is really no concern in his mannerisms. 

“You say that like you aren’t greedy.”

“Hm … not for things like money, other things.” 

You miss the way his eyes burn and shine because you are working on modeling the paper body of your animal. You enjoy your time spent with Jade, this fabricated friend your hippocampus made of the clay of your brain, dearly. 

“Food?”

“Ah … well, I suppose that is one of the other things.”

“What else are you greedy for?” You cannot fathom that Jade wants anything more to eat. He is very gluttonous like his brother and octopus friend besides his lithe, feminine frame. 

“For one thing –”

“Aha! Finished!” 

Eager and proud, you hold up the origami animal. Your creases and folds are not too pristine but the product of effort is still majestic. A crane. The bird said to live a thousand years. “Pretty isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Let’s switch ours.” Your hands make a grab for the origami fish in Jade’s hands.

“But it is the first time you have been able to make a crane successfully. Most people want to keep milestones.” He cannot fathom why you are so eager to share. “The crane should stay with you.”

“But I want to share it with my best friend.”

You wake up like the clap of a baseball in a mitt. Your eyes fly open as the baseball is thrown with a resounding bark of fetch, soaring like an arrow and returning to the second glove. A consciousness thrown between two gloves. The left side of your face feels numb and medicated.The water is up to your shins again, disobedient. Backpedaling without hesitation, you scratch at the side of your face. It feels like a cluster of barnacles are weighing down west facing skin.

You yawn as the sun, the hinode, comes up. A thousand years. What a long time; you could never fathom living such an infinite amount of time. Salt and grime staining your nightwear, you step onto the shore. You would never want to live a thousand years like this. 

Another never of yours? You never had any childhood friends. 

There are no absolutes in Shinto.

“This is impossible,” you whisper.

“There are no absolutes,” a man replies.

Somehow and someway, you are being wedded. Done with your fruitless attempts to open your eyes, you resign to verbally negotiating your way out of this lucid dream. You have to get out of here but the water has hardened to cement around your legs. You are unsure if this is a fabricated dream, a fabricated memory of a fake world, or if this is the ‘other’ world. Unsure of where you tread, you desperately want the sun to break apart this nightmare.

That is impossible. I am a miko. A miko must be unmarried. I am my father’s helper and I cannot be wedded.

The man replies to your thoughts: That is not true. You are not a miko. The priest is dead. You can be wedded.

No. I cannot wed.

The white kosode kimono covers over your skin like a constant itch. Somehow and someway, without opening your eyes, you know that you are wearing wedding attire. You feel the distribution of another set of legs in the lake. There is an awful weight on your finger. 

There are vows being spoken by a siren’s voice. A trickling scale on a piano voice. It feels oddly like you cannot create new memories. Your dreams and thoughts evaporate like trickling sand, stolen. Everything dwindles and moves away like retreating waves. 

Do you relinquish your immortal soul to this man?

Do you?

Do you?

“Yes.”

“My love, a snake is coming.”

You wake up, off-kilter. You fall immediately due to that poor balancing board provided by uneven rocks. With a gasp, your hands go out to catch you, splashes resounding as you kneel down in the water. Another fierce splash follows. You scream as you watch a mamushi dive into the water where you were standing. 

“Aa-Agh,” you gasp as you scramble up. “AH!” The world feels like trickling sand, all cascading down around you. A stumbling body turns wildly as the snake attacks. It bites the air and jumps in the water.

Its venomous fangs however are directed at the rising sun. Protectively, it attacks air. The mamushi does not attack you or your retreating, repeatedly falling form. You do not remember what you had just dreamed, pink sunlight on your back. 

The only evidence that the impossible happened are your fast, retreating footprints embedded into the shore. But even those washed away with the brine of water, trickling away, stolen.

Tiny footsteps litter the inside of your shrine. After so many years, the footprints have become an infestation comparable to cockroaches, a black sole and five dotting toes. Prints from a zashiki warashi, a ghost girl. They are only seen by children and the house’s owner, but they stay visible to you because you became the owner of the house when you stopped being a child.

Zashiki warashi are said to bring good fortune and be guardians of the house they inhabit. You have had no problems unlike the slight troubles you have had with the eyes in your home. However, a little otherworldly company does not bother you like human company.

Footprints unsourced from a tangible body and eyes unsourced from a tangible head. How odd that you have grown used to that.

You make sure to avoid stepping on the trails of footprints as you walk through the honden, the main sanctity. You notice that the ghost girl’s footprints seem to avoid the heart of the shrine. Behind a cupboard that is seldom opened lies your God, the heart, your last remaining parent. You pass the cupboard and make your way to a window. 

You watch the sunrise, contemplative. Sunlight intrudes in long rectangles and breaks the steady zig-zag lines of the zashiki warashi’s footprints. You kneel, clothed in wet nightwear, feet damp. 

You remember the day of your parents’ death. It was the only day you awoke in bed instead of ankle deep in water. Thinking you were cured, excitement fueled your feet to the entrance of your father and mother’s bedroom. Excitement skids and burns down to ash as you hold the paper sliding door open, looking upon an empty bed. 

It took only a few minutes to find them because even a fool could have guessed where this would end.

For some unlucky reason, you never slipped when walking down the mountain to the lake. Your mother worried it would happen so often. The image of your foot kissing and missing the ground. Like a ram miscalculating his step, you would plummet in her mind, body crunching and breaking as it ping-ponged down a dangerous slope.

Throat thick with salvia, you find them with a terrified cry. You press yourself tightly into a tree, weeping and screaming your miserable mind’s woes into the sekia.

Below you, they lie. Bodies bent like a cluster of twigs snapped for a fireplace and flesh smudged with blood and dirt. Bones point out elbows and knees, breaking the blanket of skin. Wrists and ankles are turned in unnatural positions. Their eyes stare up at the morning sky, the lilac pinks and blue amber of the sunrise like a colorful coffin above them. Up there, their God.

The incident made you the village’s boogeyman. Even if you were the good priest's daughter, their little blessing, the only suspect left for the crime was you.

“You were so wrong. I am not a blessing.” 

The window gives no reply. Done with the standoffish nature of the glass fixture, you stand up. The seaweed squishes under your feet, salt grinding into your soles. 

“And I am sorry that you were wrong.”

Lakes do not carry seaweed like this. 

There is a hand around my ankle.

You wake up. Not violently like the times where your dreams throw you and not softly like your dreams kiss your eyelids open. Instead, you wake up like you have already been awake. No disturbance. Miraculously, there is no disjoint between dreaming and waking. So there is no need to find your footing as you look down. 

You and a garappa stare at each other. His yellow eyes blink up at you, flicking water. Skin fern green and dotted with a dalmatian pattern of dark forest green is mostly submerged underwater. The only part of him that rises above the water is his snout and the webbed thumbnail around your right ankle.  

In your ribcage, your heart pounds hard like a frog moving to a lilypad before it settles completely. Your one heartbeat length terror came from a single thought: God, he is huge. 

Garappas and kappas can only be told apart by size. A garappa has limbs much longer than its twin, stretching out twice the typical size of a kappa. His entire arm is equivalent to your leg. Dizzy eyes track over his lengthy form. If he stood up, the estimated height would be about nine feet. 

Rocks may be under your feet but you feel like the ground is shifting sand, webbing itself through your reality. At least, the garappa seems to not be hostile right now. Who’s to say about later?

You look down at the hand embracing around your ankle. Distorted under the water, it looks like your ankle and his hand are off center from the goosebump flesh of your leg above water. Solid flesh, green contrasting to brown, ripples together in up and down motions. You are so dizzy.

Touch-taste senses are a peculiar faucet of aquatic life. Octopus can lay their suckers upon a prey and drink up the sweetness of fear like a butterfly with nectar. You wonder what kind of taste the garappa might be siphoning from cold pores.

“Foon foon foon.” The garappa says, mouth of his snout circling to form the soft Os. 

You do not fool yourself into thinking that is a friendly sound.

Garappas are elusive and cowards. This male might have been biding his time waiting for weeks of your sleepwalking to know if you were a threat or friend. To be caught by him and his inhuman strength means this was premedicated. Garappas are extremely fond of pranks and mischief, this you remember. 

But what are you forgetting?

“Foon foon foon,” he says again.

“Hoon, hoon, hoon,” you reply, trying to replicate the call of his. 

His eyes squint at you from behind the waving mass of black hair. It trails across his face like seaweed but his bright yellow irises are easy to spot among the ebony. His hold on you readjusts slightly at the sound of your voice, not tightening or loosening, just twisting around the indents of where your fibula and tibia met like someone using a pepper crusher.

There is definitely intelligence in those golden suns but that is not really the cause of unease. The unease comes from his size; the image you paint of him standing up and crowding over you. His legs would perhaps end where your collarbone starts.

Please do not stand up. Please do not stand up.

You wonder back to your taste. Would the spice of fear be hidden in the dish of your normal taste or would the spice of fear be an overpowering burn? The heart kept in your chest is very calm. It is tranquil as a sheep, resting in the dropped palpitations of sleep. Perhaps this is still a dream.

Then, the garappa starts to pull. It is a light, hesitant tug. When you hold firm, toes curling up to press tighter into the rocks underfoot, he lets up. His hold goes back to being concrete, unmoving even though the dilating ripples of water suggest different. You and him lock eyes again.

Then, the streamlined face vanishes and you are looking up at a sky of stars. You gasp as water hugs the back of your cotton yogi. A rock cushions your skull’s rapid descent and you wince. The hand on your ankle tugs and tugs.

As if the harsh kiss of the rock breaks a spell, you finally remember what you were trying to recount about the mischievous, prank-loving garappas. You look over the valley of your body, clothed in blue yogi nightwear, the supine side of you soaking wet, remembering. Garappas are known to be sexually aggressive. 

“DAMNIT!” 

Your arms move fast, grabbing at the sand and rock beside your chest, trying to lift yourself up. A fearful cry escapes you as the next tug disorients your arms and causes you to spill deeper into the lake. You watch wide-eyed as a webbed hand peels back the left side of your nightwear. 

“Cut it out! Get off me! Get off!”

Ripples of water jump around your struggling form. You were correct about his measurements. The entire arm is the size of your leg. He trails it up past the gray and blue camellia sewn on your garment. You scream as you feel the touch of soft tissue of webbed fingers on your inner thigh. 

A lucid part of you thinks the taste of your fear must be explosive.

You twist violently in the oppressing grip like a fish caught in a net. Chilled fingers grab at rocks around you, trying to pull yourself up onto shore. Your free leg kicks at the shoulder of the garrapa. Warmth blooms on your face when you are dragged again and a cut from ear to cheek is birthed. 

“Get the fuck off!” You scream as loud as a banshee. Around you, summer cicadas answer your cry with their own melody and you hear a foon foon foon, almost like a laugh bubbling under the water.

And, just as webbed fingers hover over the apple of your sex, the world falls still and silent. Even the everlasting cicadas stop for the only time in their life. In the bubble of unreal quiet, you stare over your body at the hand dug into the skull of the garrapa. 

The piscine hand is the color of tooth white. The knuckles are gradients of green bleeding off into an ebony black. You can tell because the only part of the hand that is not sunk into the garappa’s skull is a single thumb. The thumbnail is sharp as a knife, pressed in the mass of black hair. The arm trails down the neck and back of the garrapa and is indistinguishable under the black water.

You watch the garappa twitch. Still alive despite the four fingers bayonet through his head. His golden sun eyes stare at you as his hand moves down and wraps itself around your lower thigh. He squeezes hard as the four fingers press down, pull out, and press down once again, almost sensually erotic in their motions. 

“Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo.” 

You watch pleased as a trail of blood runs down the streamlined snout. Good. Die; never swim again; die-die-die!

Your respite is short lived as you are suddenly pulled down. A terrified cry rockets out of your throat. The hand burrow in the garrapa’s head stops in its descent back into black water, contemplative. The alive yet rigor-mortis grip is desperate and relentless on your thigh. 

“Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo.” The dying garrapa coos like the cicadas chirp. If I go down, I will take you with me.

His circular mouth falls still, an empty O. You watch as red rushes up in an inking squirt to the surface of the night lake. Then, with a breakneck speed, the garappa and pearl white hand disappear. The now blood-stained water rises and moves like scales as their interlocked bodies go under without another word.

The cicadas start to make noise again. The marble surface of the lake reshape back into its flat, glossy appearance. Just a different color. On trembling arms, you start to shift yourself to sit with your posture up straight. 

You glance down at the purling motions of your yogi. Under the cotton lies the amputated hand, torn at the shoulder, and now stuck on your thigh in true rigor-mortis. Mind blanking, you stand back up, ankle deep in red water. 

Latched garrapa arm swinging between your legs like a front facing tail, you walk out of the lake, soaking wet all over. 

You scrape yourself up the summit like a stubborn earthworm. Shaking hands grab familiar tree branches to hoist yourself. Frost-nibbled feet press hard into sediment to keep yourself up. At the top of the summit, just outside your home, the two lanterns of the entrance are lit. You shake harder and shiver harder with the cold. 

The lake is on the backside of the shrine, so you slowly round the building. Inch by inch, more of the entrance is revealed to you beyond the thumping glow of lanterns. Two stone lion-dogs, komainu, guard protectively under the gold. The long tongue entrance grows with each hesitant step you take. Resting your hand on the Shinto shrine, you look towards the offering hall. 

A man with silver hair kneels, hands clasped in prayer. His cheeks are tinted a pink from the chill of morning. 

“I am not taking prayers at this time, Sir. Please return another day.” 

The man does not startle at your voice in the same capacity that you startled at the sight of him. His words erode in his mouth before a smile pulls up his lips. You think his eyes are blue. It is hard to tell with glass obscuring them. He is wearing spectacles that look like the melted pattern of a tortoise shell.

“I did not know God was on a schedule. I suppose I can see why. The importance of transactions, why, those can keep someone quite occupied. I am a bit disheartened to see my deal is not worth His time.” The man’s smile is sympathetic like he knows you are suffering.

You grimace at your slip-up. Wanting to be inside, you round around the front porch area so you can meet with him at the entrance. You wonder what he must think of you, soaking wet, leaving behind puddles. “I’m terribly sorry, Sir. You may continue. I cannot offer the services of a Shinto shrine today however. My deepest apologies.” You bow.

“It is no worries. I just came to check if you were okay and make certain that you are.”

“If I’m,” your eyes flicker up in confusion. Straightening, you imagine your face must be the face of confusion like you are a spirit-blind person seeing yokai for the first time. Why would anyone? Does he not know you as the village boogeyman, someone that no one would dare check upon. “I’m quite fine, Sir.”

“Certain?”

“Certainly.”

The silver-haired man seems very pleased at that. Enough to the point where he stands up. Gratitude fills your lungs, almost relieving yourself of the chill. You hate that this is the first human interaction you have had in years and you are so happy to see it be gone.

Maybe you should try to be hospitable. That thought dies as you watch the man. Why, that is really curious – “Sir?”

“Yes?” His tone is acquiescent. 

“The direction to the village is that way.” You point past the torii gate and the two guardian lions. He had been rounding the front porch, walking in the damp footsteps you had left behind. The man blushes an even heavier pink at that. 

“Ah, my apologies,” he amends sheepishly. He stalks towards you and you wholeheartedly expect him to slip past. Instead, his presence surprises you for a second time. He grabs your salt encrusted hands and holds them dearly. “I am glad to see you in good health.”

You blank at the touch of his hands and go completely vacant at his sincere words. Like a stuttering fish, your lips move up and down wordlessly. Where did that even come from? “Do I know you?”

“I’m afraid not, godfather.”

He squeezes your hands and lets go. His spectacles are a beautiful pattern. The strange man walks off, towards the village, but his gait makes it look like he is walking in the wrong direction. You watch him until he vanishes into nothing. To make certain that he leaves.

Shaking and clenching your hands to get the blood-flow back to them, you enter the shrine. There are no armies of footprints waiting to greet you. You grow colder.

You are hot to the touch.

After such a grievous experience, you develop a fever as May births herself into the world, stabbing April to death. It lasts for a week longer than a normal fever should. Having to climb back up a mountain for an hour each morning is not any aid to the medicinal herbs you take. And now, when you want to rest, you cannot even do that. 

You have already taken the bath salts. Inhaling the cathinone crystals, you walk from one end of the shrine to the other end like the ghost of a sailor haunting/walking a shoreline. You sniffle each time you feel the tickle of the drugs in your nose. Walk. Walk. Walk. Do not fall asleep no matter what. 

Tonight is hyakki yagyo, because of course the night parade of one hundred demons falls upon the night you want to gain any semblance of rest after debilitating illness. The parades are inauspicious and untrackable. 

The hordes of eyes in your walls watch you walk, relatively close to make indents into the flooring by method of your repetitive pacing. Mokumokuren, that is what the eyes in your walls are, an infestation yokai. They take a fancy to inviting in other yokai instead of protecting as the little girl does … did. 

You can not risk going outside because of the yokai parade. Thus, due to your sleepwalking, you absolutely cannot fall asleep. People foolish enough to go outside during a hyakki yagyo or peek through their windows are killed or spirited away. It is considered divine punishment for looking upon that which must not be seen.

I have been looking upon yokai since my birth, would this parade really harm me? You never bother to test the floating theory, leaving it to trickle away until the next hyakki yagyo commences the following month. However —

“PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME! SOMEONE LET ME IN!”

You have never had someone pleading at your door on a night like this. The horde of eyes watch as you consider the bottle of drugs in your nightwear pocket. You only inhale the crystals to stay alert and awake during night but they do cause hallucinations.

“One of your friends,” you ask the cluster of eyes peering through a Swiss cheese wall. One blinks a wet, sticky eye at your question. Then all of them blink when the stranger outside your door starts pounding on the front door.

You hold your hands over your breasts anxiously. Inside the bottle, your drugs gleam like coarse Himiylaian sea salt under the one eye made of light. The lantern is your only company, you remind yourself, not a human or a yokai.

You are alone and will remain alone until death. 

It is probably an onmoraki at the door. A bird-like monster who has a talent for mimicking human voices. Onmorkai appear near temples, particularly in the presence of neglectful priests. It is almost too predictable of the yokai. Impiety needs no originality as all the old tricks have always worked.

You wish someone was here but you cannot remember their name. But you have always been alone?

Before you know it, your hand is opening the door. You stare down at the flesh like it is a foreign parasite, like a person stares at a leech after removing a limb from black lake water. When did you even – Why is your memory like this – Before you know, a sun and moon eye are staring down at you.

“Godfather! Priest!” You blank at the stranger’s jovial voice, completely singing a different tone when compared to his previous fright. He is frighteningly tall. “Oh thank God, you are here.” The man laughs. And with a flourish, he steps inside your shrine. 

“I – I –”

“Good priest,” you blank when the man gets on his knees. He grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly, holding them over the ring of his teal hair. “I am indebted to you. I swear I was almost killed because of those yokai. A garrapa came from the lake and tried to –”

“A-A garrapa?”

“Yes, good priest, but thanks to –”

You slam the door shut, wrenching your hands from the man. Slamming the door with the man now inside the shrine. Quickly, you turn and start to look for the materials to make a protective talisman. 

You miss the grin curling on your guest’s lips.“Not a fan of yokai, godfather?” 

The tone used this time is soft and worrying. You turn at the volatile changes of his voice. The man still kneels on the ground, downturned eyes following your movements. He is frowning sympathetically at you.

“Yokai – why I –”

“I’m not. Awful spirits. Killed my twin.”

“I can’t –” you trail off as you search the wooden box in the honden frantically. An honorific fuda should be in here — and — and you have bottles of ink inside your bedroom right! Just a simple protective ward to keep yokai out. You might miss the company of the eyes but you will make those sacrifices. A human hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it up from the mouth of the wooden box before you can grasp the card plate. 

“Ya didn’t answer my question. Not a big fan of yokai?” There he goes, switching his tone again. This time is deadly like he is barely concealing a thousand years of bottled up rage. 

“I –” You fumble with your words, feeling akin to a child being scolded. Is it psychosis from the bath salts or are you losing your mind – this feeling is so – his eyes are so familiar but also completely alien. “Just garrapas. I can’t with garrapas.”

My best friend’s a yokai. You think but do not vocalize it. Because it is a false thought caused by the bath salts and a faulty memory. 

He brightens up. “That’s good! That’s really good, priest. I just wanna check.”

“I’m so-sorry about being so erratic. I just —“

“A talisman. Don’t worry, I’ll help! My name’s Floyd, godfather!”

Your new acquaintance seems eager to leave minutes before the first fingers of pink and orange peer over the horizon. After calming down, the two of you shared tea and refused to look out the windows due to the parade. He is an eager talker, not letting conversation fall still at all. He talks like he has been wanting to talk to you forever. You are glad he wants to leave early despite the parade. A good priest would advise against it but you want him gone. 

Something about interacting with him is familiar yet alien. 

Cobalt skies turning more cerulean, you and Floyd take to walking outside. As he busies himself with petting your stone lion-dogs smugly, you carry a torch. Dark still lingers with hesitation. You banish a bit of it by lighting the torches by the torii gate. Orange dances on the ground like a wagging wave. 

Blanketed by shadows, you turn to look up at Floyd, standing behind you as you lit the last lantern. He is staring up at the gate. 

“Are you sure you will be alright leaving a whole hour before sunrise,” you contradict your own agenda with your words.

“Yeah, got to go check on my brother. Make sure he ain’t messin’ anything up.”

Wasn’t his brother killed? The orange from the second lantern dances like a snake. “Sir,” you hesitate when his eyes descend from the gate to you. “Do we know each other?”

“Course, little priest, I just spent all hyakki yagyo talkin’ with ya! Ahehe!” Then happily, the man walks off, down past the torii gate.

Inside the two lanterns, the fire stirs with his departure, locked in a swaying dance. 

The fire goes up like a mountain-climber. Wall to wall, it ascends like a sticky hand falling in reverse. In amber and scarlet waves, it weasels through the holes in the sliding doors and eats up the structure like a caterpillar on a leaf. Hypnotic and great, the fire acids through more and more of the Shinto shrine’s stomach.

You cannot live here anymore. You have known for a while these religious bowels held you in a painful kidney stone. 

Raising up the torch, you kiss it to the main scanatary’s wall and watch all the wood smolder. Man-made clouds of gray lie heavy on the ceiling, the finely tuned acoustics of the building rumbling with the crackles and pops. Onward, you move until you reach the heart of this system. The cupboard where the sacred object, cloaked in cloth like a newborn, represents your God.

You have no idea what the object could be. Your parents died before you turned sixteen and thus you never got to learn what the yorishiro, the sacred object, is. It could be a single comb or a paper crane or a child’s shoe. 

It does not matter when you raise up the torch, holding the flames so they may embrace the cupboard’s two doors. You hold it until fire successfully transfers. Then, as destruction curls over the piety, you leave the heart, walking down the vertebrates, until you reach the anus. 

Behind you, the Shinto shrine burns. In front of you, you see nothing as your eyes are as blind as two spider-eggs, glossed and webbed over. You feel the earth distinctively however, water undertows and rough sediment. 

The fire, blindingly bright and energetic, speaks. “Good priest, you have done well. The night is near its end.”

You wake up. You wake up like someone has driven a knife into your heart.

Coupled with a pained groan, your eyelashes flutter open. The pain in your chest is defibrillating and runs over your shoulders with a hot white electric current. It feels so unique and so awful. Rapidly, you shove your hand into your yogi and touch over the layer of skin. Your heart hammers against the skin like a woodpecker. 

“Oh my God,” you groan, spit running off your lips from the excruciating pain. Coughing around the phlegm, you press your hand hard into your skin, hoping pressure would mimic the job of a tourniquet. Your heart remains relentless. 

More spit runs off your bottom lip like a long, opaque slug. He stretches and plops into the lake around your waist. Bile will not be summoned so you settle with fruitlessly spitting into the lake, groaning in pain. Phlegm hangs like snot on your lip as you look up, expecting to see golden sun-rays that will cure you.

Before you stand a man. 

Those features seem too feminine to make him a man. His thin, cupid bow lips are just a bit too delicate to be a man’s. It looks like his skin is breathing marble and pearl. Monolids and upturned, his eyes are alluring as a concubine. A sun and a moon eye, shining with something indescribable when the two of you make eye contact. Is that genuine love in his womanly eyes?

“Who … Who are you? Why do I?” His eyes are distantly familiar yet juxtaposingly alien to you. Your vision blurs and his face shrinks and distorts, causing his eyes to overlap into an eclipse. Blinking and spitting, you clear your head. “Why do I know your face?”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” For a second, you think him narcissistic until he says, “The omagatoki tonight is beautiful.”

A sudden chill causes your hairs to stand on end. Those dueling eyes seem to brighten in the pitch black dark. If he were any further from you, it would be impossible to see him. He too stands waist deep in the lake with you, many inches taller than yourself.

The sudden acknowledgement of existing as prey washes over you. “It’s omagatoki already?” Of course it is. The moon lies behind the man like a dot engulfing a canvas. You blink your eyes thrice as if there is a plastic filter cutting into them. 

How did you not notice the telltale signs: cold wind blowing, the strange scent in the air like fish or blood, a sudden chill that causes one’s hairs to stand on end. It is as dark as if you were an explorer in the deep sea. It is omagatoki; how have you not noticed? 

The spirit realm is so active around you. 

“Who are you,” you ask again, full of questions. 

“Me? Why, I am wounded that you do not recognize me. That would be like if I asked you: who are you? Who are you, (Name)?” You stay silent. “A niiyomjei perhaps?” A newlywed bride, he coos. 

“I am no yamahime.” 

A filthy yamahime is a mountain princess, but they are alternatively called mountain woman or newlywed bride. In a rare pleasure of luck, you have only encountered a yamahime once despite spending your entire life sharing the same home as them: the mountains.

You remember standing guard in front of the Shinto shrine, on the cusp of your thirteenth birthday, arms folded as the yamahime laughed and laughed. The laugh of a mountain princess is a lethal poison, those who hear are either dead or driven mad. Blood snailing down your ears, you stood her down for a sleepless night, refusing to let harm to befall either mother or father.

“Do not call me such a word.” You spit like a cobra at the man. 

“My apologies, I misjudged that such a pretty woman as yourself would be honored at the comparison. I would never think to lessen your humanity down to a yokai. Though, why, I have always thought of you as the mountain princess you are.”

The moon backdrops on his body like a halo. All his features are dark besides his eyes and the outline of him pressed tight to the glowing night sun. “And, a newlywed bride? That is a true statement by all measures.”

“I am no bride. I am my father’s shrine maiden – a miko.” Mikos must remain unmarried to help out in a Shinto shrine. Coupled by your isolation, that question seems world-breaking insanity. This man is ridiculous. 

But you are no longer a miko. You graduated when you made two graves; you are a priest. A Shinto priest – man or woman – is allowed to marry and have children. This is all insanity. 

The man puts his hand to his mouth, closing his eyes and frowning delicately into his fist as if that statement is a physical injury to him. “Come now, (Name),” his moon and sun eyes shine like beetles when he opens them, “the priest is dead. Your father is dead. And you will find that your own priesthood is no longer required.” 

“As long as there is a shrine, I’m needed.” The water around you is wrong and peculiar. Weightless and nebulous water clings up your thighs, ending an inch below your belly-button. You have to get back to your ankles. You do not want to cause anyone to worry that you have gone too far in.

“There are guests up there. You really should not disturb their prayers,” the man says as you start to turn, barely making it ninety degrees.

“I am the shrine’s priest, it will be fine.”

“They should go undisturbed; it will only take a moment. They want to explore the shrine inside too. Talk with me some more, bride.”

You ignore that word, unpausing your body. Your yogi floats around like a giant jellyfish cape and you must leave. “No one can get into the shrine, even if it is omagatoki. They would be banished. The yokai of the shrine would recognize a stranger.”

“Only by scent. And you smell like salt water every morning. It is safe to say my brother and boss can continue their prayers unaided and uninterrupted.” 

The man, padding through water as he walks over to you, gently takes your left face in the cradle of his webbed hand. His features may be human but you can feel the slime as it sticks. The bone white of his palm almost glows under moonlight. With soft eyebrows, he looks upon you with idolization.

“Why do I know your face?”

As serious as a grave, he says, “I was there. In your dreams. And even when they weren’t dreams, I was still there.”

Each innard organ of yours stirs like a bed of worms at his exigent tone. “Yo .. You’re a umi nyobo … no, a umi no otto.” A sea wife, but then you correct yourself, a sea husband. His features might be delicate but his voice is entirely a man’s. You remember two things about them. Very strong. Very dangerous. 

You jerk your head away from the hold of a piscine hand. Frantic, you twist your body away to get back up shore, to lower the embrace the lake has over your body back down to your ankles. You make it only one step before you stop. Eyes facing the mountain, you stare in horror. 

Beyond the summit, between the armies of trees, a thick plume of smoke rises up and points it black fingers up to the twilight hours. 

Fumbling with your mind, you are drawn back to the present as the man attacks you. He wraps his arms like chains around your waist, pinning your arms. Water stirs around the bottom of the contact. The world tilts as he suddenly pushes you down. Water floods into the front of your yogi, spilling down between your breasts. You fight to be upward and he allows it, leaning his body over you in an acute angle. Water comes to a respite. 

Both of you fall still, your chest heaving heavy. He presses his flat chest to your spine. The left side of his face lands on top of the crown of your head. For a minute, you two stay statue-like. 

“If you can remember my face and species then you must know my name.”

“I do not,” clenched teeth grit together. “I do not know you,” you deny.

“Yes, you do. We grew up together. You were my only friend. I was your only friend. I gave you a fish to keep you in good health and you gave me a crane in the promise of our life together. As a child, we do things unclouded by hesitation. Don’t you remember that?”

“I was only a child. I had no way to understand that,” you bargain. 

“But you participated in our wedlock as an adult. Just a month ago, at night, didn’t you?”

“I can’t remember.”

“I will help you remember. All your dreams and all your thoughts, they will be ours.” A piscine hand carefully picks up wet tendrils of hair from the humid skin of your body. He tucks it behind your ear where cold sweat accumulates. “I’ve only thought and dreamed of you, (Name). I only ever wanted to share an eternal life with you by my side.”

“That’s impossible,” you shiver when he draws a claw over the bridge of the bone in your ear, down to the lobe. “Yokai and humans live in different worlds. The sekai and ikai can’t –”

“I know. I know but you promised. You promised to share that immortal soul humans have with me; the immortal soul that yokai lack. I will be turning you into an umi bozu.”

Umi bōzu … a sea priest. 

You have never seen one; you never want to see and much less want to become one. They may look humanoid but they are truly a monstrous sight. Shoulders and a head rising and appearing from rough, killing waves. Giants. Umi bōzu are as tall as a coastal redwood tree, incomprehensible in size. More fearsome than a whale to a sailor and more dangerous than a plague to a newborn. Black as shadow with bulbous, white-blue eyes, umi bōzu are titans of mystery. 

Some believe they are the progenitors of the sea and others … believe they come from drowned priests. You watch the smoke move serpentine into the skies. You are almost grateful for the rough, constituting grip because you feel you are going to pass out with the thought of becoming one of those behemoth sea monks. 

“I’ll – I’ll wake up. The sun isn’t up. I still have time to wake up.”

There is no way that fire is real. And even if it is real, it is not made by your hands – his brother and his boss –

“You say that the yokai of your shrine would vanish my brother and boss, but you forgot that those eyes are a sign of infestation. Mokumokumen invite other yokai in. You knew that and left them alone to watch you. It is almost like you were waiting for this … the consummation of our marriage. How duplicitous you are.”

“Jade. Jade, wake me up right now.”

His face splits apart in a smile unseen. He knew you remembered. 

“You are awake, my wife. You are.”

It is almost disorienting how calm the water is. You feel like a riptide is tearing you up and throwing you left and right. Around your sandwiched waists, you and Jade stand in completely still waters. The current fluidly pushes at your legs but it is like a docile comfort. All is calming and accepting except for yourself. In the air, the scent of blood and fish swims with the breeze. 

“Don’t you see that I love you? That I have only cared and protected you. That one garrapa, you must remember that,” you jolt at the reminder. “Though I am a bit sad to learn you remember him so well, you must remember the end of it too. I even sent my boss to make sure you would be in good health. (Name)?”

You see it clearly: your body distorted into a giant as tall as the Great Wall of China is long, a nebulous black form of head and shoulders surrounded by turbulent waves as a tiny ship is thrown left and right with the force of your existence. A ship carrying twenty plus men comparable to a rubber duck in a child’s tub. 

You cannot become that monster. You cannot become an umi bōzu. Please God please.

Feverish, you chant Norito, a Shinto prayer only said by Shinto priests. It is a prayer to God to prevent bad things from happening. The words fly off your lips like a flight of birds taking off. You feel like your mind is an empty cavern. 

Lord, give me one more chance. 

“I really wish this could precede differently; your tender disposition is something I do not wish to upset.”

“God, help me,” you cry. 

Jade listens to your tongue wag like it is the sound of a babbling brook. “The shrine is ash, dear.” 

Waiting a minute longer, the sea husband grabs your face with his webbed hand. The last of your prayer is whispered as he tilts you to look at him, backdropped by the mammoth moon. His sun and moon eyes shine. “I have waited long enough. Let us start our honeymoon. Let us say goodbye to the sun.” 

Then, Jade’s nails cut into you, making gill-shaped marks in the breast of your chest, just over the space where your lungs sit. 

And as he drags you down, you scream the last scream of your mortal life. 

[todaywasamaritale]

✧ mari ♡ 18 y/o cryptid fem ✧ s.her ♡ christian ✧ biromantic asexual ♡ 🇵🇸🫒 ✧

please do not put any donation links in my inbox. my financial situation renders me unable to respond to them, and a lot of minors follow me. i cannot in good faith distribute any links that could possibly be scams to my audience. unless i know you, you will be blocked. at this point i’m just going to assume you’re a bot if you still insist upon sending me links after i have explicitly stated that i cannot receive them.

mari-the-tortured-poet -> todaywasamaritale

this is the void where i scream about stuff and mostly reblog! i’ve got tags for everything as seen wayyyy down yonder. i also make moodboards for characters and ocs so you can request those too!

insta (i am closeted irl so please be considerate)

format vaguely stolen from lucy but i’m certain she’ll forgive me <3

proud member of @babygirls-inc

ABSOLUTELY everything to know about me ->

american (derogatory) // christian (the good kind, shouldn’t have to clarify but here we are😭) // scorpio // bday oct 25 // music lover and writer // fanfic consumer // local neighborhood ace with the dirtiest jokes // i swear like a sailor to offput certain men // spring supremacy tbh // avid disneyworld enjoyer and corporate disney hater 🤝 // conflict makes me itch but i’m a professional debator // singer and stuff i already said // dwdw if i hate you, you will KNOW straight up // a downbad schemer, evil even // call me a double A battery the way i be autistic and asexual // whump enjoyer and writer at times // i do rp on minecraft a lot // and then there’s chunky he’s DEAD

music ->

swiftie (taylor’s version) // k/da // heartsteel // itzy // everglow // blackpink in your area // little monster for mother monster gaga <3 // olivia rodrigo // chappell roan // Jesus was a Carpenter!!! // boygenius // emei! // precious jewel amor // derivakat // cg5 // reinaeiry // mave: MAKE A NEW WAVE!!!!! // dua lipa // ive // the warning // dove cameron // tobymac // daft punk // britney spears // madonna // gracie abrams // thomas sanders

movies & tv ->

miraculous ladybug aw yiss // vaguely intrigued in pokemon sun & moon // felix fathom and gladion mohn you are forever famous and not at all similar nono // mha // murder drones // hellaverse // tadc // saiki k // bsd // tangled the series NO SPOILERS // kimmy schmidt // schitt’s creek // the mindy project // atla // downton abbey // pride and prejudice miniseries with colin firth if you prefer the movie i’ll fight you // big bang theory // friends // star wars enthusiast // maleficent // guardians of the galaxy (what do you mean there are three movies??? there are only two uh huh….) // juno // the perks of being a wallflower // spiderverse // barbie // enchanted // hunger games // narnia // everything everywhere all at once // RAINBOW ROCKS // princess diaries // enola holmes // klaus // princess protection program // high school musical (no spoils for the series) // legally blonde // mean girls // frozen // alien stage!!! // project mc2 // the owl house

games ->

star guardians xayah x rakan truther // minecraft // sims 4 // prodigy // yandere sim

broadway ->

wicked // moulin rouge (not the movie) // she loves me // jeremy jordan is God’s gift to earth have you even heard him giggle tho. have you // newsies // shrek the musical >>>>>>> // holiday inn // dear evan hansen // mean girls // anastasia URGH brainrot // six // heathers // mystic glen // frozen

books/fanfic ->

keeper of the lost cities // the impossible quest // septimus heap // the land of stories // school for good and evil // narnia // artemis fowl don’t even TALK to me about the movie i’m still fuming // amulet // wonder // star of deltora // passerine // thirteen

DNI: transphobes, zionists, aphobes, homophobes, bots or those that appear as such, potterheads, fatphobes, xenophobes, racists, pedos, misogynists, taylor antis, transmisogynists, and the like! basically, people who are little haters for no reason and/or support those who are. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF I SEE YOU IN MY NOTES. SERIOUSLY.

caution to my younger followers: this blog DOES contain sensitive content and language, but i’m not your mom so legally i can’t stop you. and if your mom doesn’t accept you or your identity, i’m adopting.

babygirls inc (my guys! my dudes! my homies) : @yaboieif & @jingledbell

other faves: @halucynator // @ninadove // @demyxdancer // @emmafaeru // @pwippy

tagging system ->

#mari reblogs -> anything i reblog!

#mari rambles -> i talk sometimes

#mari rants -> i’m mad sometimes

#ask mari -> used for any ask games i reblog, the box is always open

#mari answers -> i answer sometimes

#mari fangirls -> i’m in fandoms sometimes

#mari’s mutuals -> i post about/with cool peeps sometimes

#mari and eifie/jingle/lucy/spes/etc. -> i post with specific cool peeps sometimes

#mari writes -> i write sometimes

#mari whumps -> i whump sometimes

don’t forget to do your daily clicks! in addition to palestinian support and relief, there are so many other causes that arab.org has to support. i know esp as a minor without a solid banking situation that it can be easy to feel helpless when you can’t donate, but this is something meaningful without having to pay money that truly makes a difference!

[swooning-skulls]

--- character list

blue - currently interested | red - not taking requests | green - no romance | pink - yandere allowed

i will occasionally write characters not on this list, that doesn't mean they will be requestable.

{...live action...}

BULLET TRAIN: Lemon, Tangerine, The Father, The Wolf

COMMUNITY: Jeff Winger, Britta Perry, Annie Edison, Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes, Shirley Bennett, Ben Chang, Dean Craig Pelton

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS: ---coming soon

YOU: Joe Goldberg, Peach Salinger, Guinevere Beck, Candace Stone, Love Quinn, Forty Quinn, Delilah Alves

YELLOWJACKETS: ---coming soon

FALLOUT: Lucy MacLean, Norman MacLean, Chet, Maximus, Thaddeus, Cooper Howard, Lee Moldaver, Bud Askins, Henry "Hank" McLean, Betty Pearson

{...animation...}

A.N.) depending on the continuity, i may decline romantic requests for scooby-doo characters since they're not adults in all continuities.

SCOOBY-DOO (all except hbo velma): Norville "Shaggy" Rogers, Scoobert "Scooby-Doo" Doobert, Fred Jones, Velma Dinkley, Daphne Blake, Thorn, Luna, Dusk, Vincent van Ghoul

G1 MONSTER HIGH: Frankie Stein, Clawdeen Wolf, Draculaura, Lagoona Blue, Cleo de Nile, Ghoulia Yelps, Deuce Gorgon, Clawd Wolf, Toralei Stripe, Scarah Screams, Abbey Bominable, Spectra Vondergeist, Operetta, Venus McFlytrap, C.A. Cupid, Nefera de Nile, Mr. D'eath, G. Reaper, Ms. Kindergrubber, Mr. Rotter, Mr. Where

G3 MONSTER HIGH: ---coming soon

SONIC BOOM: ---coming soon

LOVE, DEATH & ROBOTS: ---coming soon

{...video games...}

MARIO FRANCHISE: Mario, Luigi, Pauline, Princess Peach, Princess Daisy, Princess Rosalina, Yoshi, Bridette, Bowser, King Boo, Wario, Waluigi, Vivian, Goombella, Madame Flurrie, Lady Bow

CLASSIC SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

MODERN SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

FALLOUT NEW VEGAS: Courier 6, Arcade Gannon, Craig Boone, Lily Bowen, Raul Tejada, Sharon Cassidy, Veronica Santangelo, ED-E, Rex, Christine Royce, Dean Domino, Joshua Graham, Benny 'Gecko', Legate Lanius, Robert House, Ulysses (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 3: The Lone Wanderer, Butch Deloria, Charon, Clover, Cross, Dogmeat, Fawkes, Jericho, RL-3 (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 4: Nate, Nora, Cait, Codsworth, Curie, Danse, Deacon, Dogmeat, John Handcock, Nick Valentine, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Ada, Old Longfellow, Porter Gage, Bobbi No-Nose, Desdemona, Erikson, Ham, Irma, Kent Connolly, KL-E-0, Pickman, Red Tourette, Swan, Tinker Tom, Travis Miles, Vault-Tec Rep, Whitechapel Charlie (MORE COMING SOON)

COD: COLD WAR: Bell, Russell Adler, Lawrence Sims, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Dimitri Belikov, Perseus, Vikhor "Stich" Kuzmin

RAINBOW SIX SIEGE: ---coming soon

APEX LEGENDS: ---coming soon

OVERWATCH: Soldier 76, Reinhardt, Sojourn, Mercy, Winston, Tracer, Genji, Mei, Brigitte, Echo, Lucio, Pharah, Zarya, D.Va, Baptiste, Bastion, Doomfist, Moria, Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra, Sigma, Ramattra, Junker Queen, Roadhog, Junkrat, Wrecking Ball, Hanzo, Ashe, B.O.B., Symmetra, Lifeweaver, Zenyatta, Orisa, Illari , Venture

{...books...}

---NA:

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Pssst... pssssssst...

I have another Platonic Yandere Wings of Fire/X-Men AU ~ ! How about an au where Reader is a dragonet who is an outcast of their tribe due to a rare condition in their tribe that they hatched with? (a la Chameleon from Book 8: Escaping Peril)

They were outcasted, looked down upon, ostracized, possibly bullied and abused, due to their rare condition... Yet one day they either leave or are banished or chased away, and they stumble on a rare animus-touched item that can grant them a power they've always wanted...

To be a normal dragon with normal powers, or even a dragon with rare, mighty powers.

They end up creating a form/mask for each tribe, one that is enchanted to highlight certain parts of their personality in that form and to be able to fit in without sticking out too much... They keep the enchantment in a necklace or bracelet that is always on them, and has a different gem or charm that will spread its color to the rest, to indicate they are that tribe that at the moment (ex. red ruby or garnet means a SkyWing, opal means a RainWing, orange/yellow amber for HiveWing, etc.)

Ideas for what rare condition they could have ranges like this:

MudWing: blood red egg makes them fire/burnproof; snout deformity makes it so they can't hold their breath for an hour; was born without fire; hatched without sibs...

SandWing: hatched without their venom barb; hatched with albino/melanistic/dark golden scales; hatched with six claws...

SkyWing: hatched with too much fire/hatched with too little fire; has crippled/deformed wings; has paler scales than most SkyWings...

SeaWing: hatched with a deformed tail; has trouble swimming; hatched with odd scale colors (bright acid/lime green, indigo, extremely pale blue/green, etc.)...

RainWing: snout deformity where they can't change colors; inability to produce acid/venom...

IceWing: melansitic/darker scales; difficulty breathing frostbreath; odd patterns/eyes/colors...

NightWing: albino/pale scales; not hatched with any full moon powers; hatched under three full moons...

HiveWing: odd scale colors (bright gold-green, greenish-black, reddish-pink); albino/melanistic, odd power or no powers...

SilkWing: melanistic; deformed wings/wingbuds; inability to produce silk/is a flamesilk...

LeafWing: odd scale colors (amber brown, pink-red, gold); odd leafspeak/no leafspeak; deformed tail or wings...

Reader would have a mask (enchanted form) of each tribe, with its own name, color, size, abilities and personality, all a little different if not completely different, and each with a carefully crafted backstory. Reader made sure each of these forms were more or less "perfect" (undeformed/common/accepted). Some forms have fun powers, some are more down to earth, but all are crafted to match Reader and hide them, transforming them into a new dragon each time they change.

I'm going to call this the 🎭Jekyll and Hyde🐉 AU... And it's 🥚Tiny Talons🐉 variation is called the 🥚Tiny Rainbow🌈 AU...

[alilrainboo2030]

Who was inspired by these fandoms from your childhood and adulthood?

Poppy Playtime or “Smiling Critters”

The Amazing Digital Circus

Powerpuff Girls

Uglydolls 

Happy Tree Friends

Object Land 

Number and Alphabet Lore 

Trolls, World Tour, and Band Together

My Little Pony

Hanazuki Full of Treasures

LEGO’s

Animal Crossing

Just Shape & Beats and “Pink Corruption”

Murder Drones

Mr. Men Show

Sanrio

Wild Kratts 

Making Fiends

Splatoon

Cuphead

Minecraft

Billie Bust Up

Pinkfong

Yokai Watch

Five Nights at Freddy's

Security Breach

Over The Moon

BT21

Ruby Gillman Teenage Kraken

Yandere Simulator 

Pokemon

Inside Out

Steven Universe

Among Us

Super Mario Bros

Just Dance

Garten of Banban

South Park

Vocaloid or Project Diva

Danganronpa

Pop'n Music

Sonic the Hedgehog

Friday Night Funkin

Spooky Month

Rainbow Friends

Angry Birds 

Cookie Run

Wreck it Ralph

Mixels

Numberblocks

Sesame Street 

Care Bears

Sailor Moon

Pucca

Undertale

Homestuck

Hazbin Hotel 

Cult of the Lamb 

Hollow Knights

Baldi's Basics

Yo Gabba Gabba

Looney Tunes

Teletubbies

Bloody Bunny

Puyo Puyo

Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf 

Strawberry Shortcake 

Monster High 

Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls 

Disney Pixar “Cars” 

Disney Pixar “Planes” 

Disney Pixar “Boats” 

Disney “Princesses” 

Portal 

Thomas the Tank Engine 

Foster Home and Imaginary Friends 

Gacha Life 

Poptropica 

Lilo and Stitch

Duolingo 

Dr Seuss 

Bluey 

OK KO Let's be Heroes 

Miniforce 

Roblox 

Power Rangers 

Elemental (Disney Pixars) 

CRiTORA

Tamagotchi 

Skylanders 

Kinoko and the Cult of Galaxy 

Kirby 

Robots (Blue Sky Studios) 

Chikn Nuggit 

My Singing Monsters 

D*ck and Chick Figure 

The Heroic Six 

Land of the Lustrous 

The Bad Guy's 

 Marvel 

[bootyshaker900o]

“Playlists of my unhealthy obsessions/Simping”

These men have caused such a brain rot- that like they are my whole personality. I made a little playlist of songs for them

Dave/William Afton (🧍‍♂️ I have problems)

Jocelyn Flores - XXXTENTACION

Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me the Horizon

Yandere - Jazmin Bean

Sex, Drugs, Etc. - Beach Weather

R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys

Play Date - Melanie Martinez

Perverted - Elita

The Neden Game - ICP

Stalker’s Tango - Autoheart

Say My Name - Alex Brightman

Imma Kill You - ICP

Blow My Brains Out - Tikkle Me

CHOKE - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Ryn, Rabinit Run - Flanagan and Allen

Boogie Woogie Wu - ICP

Donnie

Dirty Harry - Gorillaz

Me and Your Mama - Childish Gambino

Hell of a Ride - Bo Burnham

Family Jewels - Marina and the Diamonds

I’m still standing - Elton John

Puppet Boy - DEVO

Afraid - The Neighborhood

Reflections - The Neighborhood

Fluorescent Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys

One day - Lovejoy

The Ending - Hobo Johnson

Trouble - Hazel Bloom

Teen Romance - Lil Peep

Alien Blues - Vundabar

Team - Mag.Lo

Bad - Michael Jackson

Orphan Tears - Your Favorite Martian

Draxum

Problems - Mother Mother

Zydrate Anatomy - Paris Hilton

Toxic - Britney Spears

Liquid Smooth - Mitski

W.D.Y.W.F.M? - The Neighborhood

Trom Cat - Tyler, the Creator

E.T. - Katy Perry, Kanye West

Molly - MSI

Enemy - Imagine Dragons, JID

Never Satisfied - CORPSE

Desire - Meg Myers

Venom - Little Simz

Daddy AF - Slayyter (don’t ask)

Supermassive Black Hole - Muse

Such A Whore - JVLA

Six Forty Seven - Instupendo

Silco

Daddy issues - The Neighborhood

Genius- Sia, Diplo, Labrinth, LSD

Same Old Love - Selena Gomez

Guys My Age - HEY VIOLET

Life of the Party - The Weeknd

High Enough - K.Flay

Government Hooker - Lady Gaga

Why don’t U - Father, ABRA

New Americana - Halsey

Do You Even? - Jorge Aguilar II

Sugar Daddy - Qveen Herby 

Royals - Lorde

I Feel Like I’m Drowning - Two Feet

New Person, Same Mistakes - Tame Impala

Cold - Maroon 5

Come As You Are - Nirvana

Fantasy - Bazzi

Raph (my sweet baby boy 😭)

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

Somebody To Love - Queen

Careless Whispers  - George Michaels 

Her - Tyler, The Creator 

Are We Still Friends? - Tyler, The Creator

Trumpets - Jason Derulo

Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake

Rodeo - Lil Nas X

Ms. Jackson - Outkast

EARFQUAKE - Tyler, The Creator

Mine - Bazzi

Die for You - The Weeknd

Love on the Brain - Rihana

Crazy In Love - Beyoncé, JAY-Z

Lucifer

Gooey - Glass Animals

Love Me Dead - Ludo

The Distance - CAKE

Like A Stone - Audioslave

Luxurious- Gwen Stafani

Applause - Lady Gaga

Please Me - Cardi B, Bruno Mars

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand

Alejandro - Lady Gaga

Love Is a Bitch - Two Feet

Aint no Rest for The Wicked - Cage the Elephant

Animal - Sir Chloe

Mr. Saxobeat - Alexandra Stan

Judas - Lady Gaga

Livin La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin

White Flag - Bishop Briggs

River - Bishop Briggs

Blurred Lines - Robin Thicke

Sway - Michael Bublé

Juicy

Monster Energy Gun - KevinKempt

Chop Chop Slide - ICP

Get Low - Lil Jon

Crazy - Gnarls Barkley

Star Shopping - Lil Peep

Never There - CAKE

Shake That - Eminem, Nate Dogg

Everywhere I Go - Hollywood Undead

Revenge - XXXTENTACION

POLTERGEIST! - CORPSE

My Mom - Eminem

Asshole - hooligan chase

Under the Influence - Eminem, D12

Shots - LMFAO

Him and I - G-Eazy, Halsey

The Hills - The Weeknd

my boy - Billie Eilish

Leo

Ain’t Shit - Dojo Cat

Feel Like God - Gazy

Nightmare - Halsey

Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

Mujeriego - Ryan Castro

Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics, Annie Lennox

Let’s Groove - Earth, Wind, and Fire

Pizzazz - Akintoye

Slumber Party - Ashnikko

INDUSTRY BABY - Lil Nas X

Milkshake - BBY KODIE

Bad - Michael Jackson

Pony - Ginuwine

Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At the Disco

Blah Blah Blah - The Oozes

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

Joker (Joaquin & Heath’s) (don’t ask- please dont)

Purple Lamborghini- Skrillex, Rick Ross

Fame - David Bowie

Wolf is Sheep’s Clothing - Set It Off

To Catch a Predator- ICP

Back in Black - AC/DC

Tentative - System of a Down

Rainbows and Stuff - ICP

Hokus Pokus - ICP

Murder Go Round - ICP

The Juggla - ICP

HAHA - Lil Darkie

Broken - Lund

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Criminal - Britney Spears

Cradles - Sub Urban

Loki

Mind Games - Sickick

I’m A Slave 4 U - Britney Spears

Who is She? - I Monster

A Pearl - Mitski

Cigarettes Out the Window - TV Girl

Redbone - Childish Gambino 

All for Us - Labrinth, Zendaya

Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Imagine Dragons

My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

I Write Sins Not Tragedies - Panic! At the Disco

Partition - Beyoncé

Suit and Tie - Justing Timberlake

Jealous - Eyedress

Yellow - Coldplay

My Oh My - Camila Cabello

[slamsuckingslut]

WELCOME TO JUNOS CORNER :33

My names Juno, this is my corner, pls keep ur distance i do in fact bite and will have a pissing contest with you.

ABOUT ME

Im 19, Im in the US, i work as a busser full time, i play bass and drums, i make breakcore on soundcloud when im bored, im genderfluid and bi (currently single BUT BACK OFF FREAKS I AM NO EDATER.)

BELOW THE CUT IS ALL INFO REGARDING WHAT I WRITE FOR, WHAT I WILL/WONT WRITE, ECTT

FANDOMS IM IN/THINGS I LIKE

Hannibal ,, Rainbow Six Siege ,, Call of Duty ,, Smiling Friends ,, Metalocalypse ,, Juno ,, Ghost B.C ,, Life of Boris/Anatoli ,, James Marriott ,, WillNE ,, Jschlatt ,, Ted Nivision ,, Swaggersouls ,, Yandere Sim ,, Team Fortress 2 ,, Homestuck ,, Scream ,, House of Wax ,, Transformers ,, Kingdom of Heaven ,, + more just ask

WHAT I WILL WRITE

nsfw/sfw/angst/ect ,, super kinky stuff ,, drug/alcohol use ,, touchy topics such as SH/ED/suicide ect but only implied never in detail for my own personal comfort with the topics ,, headcanons/a-z alphabet/ect ,, male/female/gn reader (we inclusive in this hoe)

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

pedo/ddlg (icky..) ,, somno/necro/noncon ,, incest ,, heavy gore (unless requested, it doesnt bother me as long as its like COD/R6 character getting hurt in a firefight or something) ,, abusive character or reader

OTHER THINGS

It will take me a day or two to do your request, depending what it is or how in depth you'd like me to be. I got a busy life, so im sorry if it takes me longer than a couple days to do it. Dont hesitate to dm me to remind me to do it, i have a horrible memory.

I will do anything for money, so dm me if you'd like me to do something for you (like edit, ghost write, be yo sugar baby LMAOO literally anything im so poor i cant even pay attention)

Check my blog for my two most recent ones that ive done, more to come soon 🙏

also anyone who can point out the two references to a show and band i made in here, u get a cookie and my love.

<3~Juno

[melodygatesauthor]

I love your dark moon boys story, do you have any possible recomends for more dark fanfictions? I follow most Osar Isaac Pedro pascal fanfictions

Hi Nonnie!

Thank you so much for the support!!

I don't get around to reading as much as I'd like to (I write so much I just don't have the time to). I know my friend @romana-after-dark just started her dark fics on her new dark blog.

If you're looking for more of my dark work, I don't currently have any other dark works for Oscar, but I do have a Kylo Ren fic and some from a smaller fandom called Rainbow Six Siege -

Just You is a Kylo Ren twisted coffee shop AU where he's a yandere stalker man.

Here is my Rainbow Six Siege Masterlist where I have a bunch of dark fics surrounding them.

I have more dark MK on the way, and I also have a dark!Poe fic in the works, but it won't be out for quite some time. (Fingers are falling off because I'm trying to write as fast as I can lol)

If ANYONE ELSE has some recs for dark writers in the Oscar or Pedro fandom, please feel free to chime in!

[autisticempathydaemon]

for the redacted match-up!!!

Enneagram: six!

Eepy method: comfort video game lets play

Redacted audio of choice: Possessive Yandere Demon Rewrites Your Memories

Sorry, just not interested: Asher

Instant besties: Caelum

Gas station combo: a Calypso and CheezIts

Guilty pleasure media: Naruto fanfiction :/

Type Sixes tend to be independent and hardworking, searching for stability and security, a rock to hold them steady, if you will… or an earth elemental.

(Also, I know this is you, Lexi, and we all know that you’re a Damien kinnie and that Damien and Huxley are the perfect couple SO it wasn’t a hard decision to make.)

Huxley would always get you a Calypso when he stops by the 7/11 (not to mention he always remembers your favorite flavor.) I could even see him making a project with the bottles or caps…

Oh, wouldn’t that be gorgeous? A house together with a big, gorgeous oak in the front with glass hanging from the leaves to catch the sunlight? (Caelum would get a kick out of that. He’d love a bottle tree and, given you could see him, you could often find him sitting in the branches looking at the rainbows.)

Song:

Lucky me/ I was ordinary/ But with your love, you see/ I am a poem writer/ I will express this if I'm able/ I love you like a table/ My legs were carved for you/ I love you like a table

Something about the title just is Huxley, you know? Again, it’s bringing that rock-foundation-table energy I was talking about, the love that is present, everyday, and safe. It’s not glamorous per se, but it’s magical all the same.

Runner Ups:

So I was very tempted to say Aaron- you’d be hard pressed to find a more stable, trustworthy life partner in crime than him. At the same time, Ollie spoke to me because I know you’re a fuckin goof, and I think the goof in Ollie would speak to the goof in you. (Ollie strikes me as the type to also read Naruto fanfiction or, at the very least, would read the ones you rec him.) Huxley struck a very happy medium between the two.

Note: Lexi, I’m so sorry you got the test pancake of the moodboards I love you I’m SORRY

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[yanderes-galore]

Can I ask for a Infection AU concept for Rarity?

Sure, I feel so bad that Applejack isn't done at this time because I'm doing requests in order for the most part but I ASSURE you her part will be done before Patient Zero hopefully. For now, here's Rarity to finish off the main story parts.

Previous - Pinkie Pie

Next - Patient Zero

Yandere Virus! Rarity Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, "Flirty" behavior, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Dark themes, Violence, Horror themes, Yandere virus, Body horror, Implied attempted forced relationship, Open ending.

In your eyes, the cave was your only form of salvation.

A cave is isolated from the rest of Ponyville and gets you away from Rainbow and Pinkie.

You don't even know where the rest went.

You aren't sure how long you can remain in hiding, but you hope the Princesses will find a way to cure this mess....

However, you pause when you see a light glowing in the cave.

Feeling your heart race you quietly sneak towards the light.

Ponies...? Why here?

Your eyes widen when you're met with Rarity picking out gemstones for presumably her newest muse.

She seems unaware of the mess going on outside, turning when she hears another set of hooves.

You two stare at one another, Rarity in shock not only due to your sudden presence... but your appearance.

You look like a mess.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing here? Why do you look so... tired? Is that blood!?"

You flinch softly, you're so used to the looks of pity your friends have been giving you...

But you'll never be used to what usually happens next.

"Rarity, it isn't safe outside. I... I don't even think I'm safe. It's a mess outside and we need to get help!"

You try your best to explain yourself to the pony, Rarity frowning at your anxiety.

She had only gone out of Ponyville for a little while to collect gems... what had she missed?

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to tend to your wounds?"

Rarity's tone is sincere as she steps closer, looking you over.

You step back in response, shaking your head.

"Perhaps it's too late for both of us..." You sigh softly.

Rarity doesn't understand you, watching as you turn around.

"Follow me, we need to go, I'll try to explain on the way."

For the first time in a while, you take charge and run out of the cave with Rarity.

Rarity's confusion only deepens when she sees Rainbow and Pinkie fighting, two monsters lost in a world of delusion.

They only stop fighting when they see you and Rarity running off.

After that, the two bloodied ponies follow in pursuit.

You try your best to explain your predicament to the mare as you run with her.

You feel your breathing pick up as you catch more movement.

Like wolves you see the rest of the Mane Six appear, tracking you seemingly by scent as you flee.

They don't look like themselves... in fact they probably look even worse.

The stench of blood fills the air and you swear you see Rarity fighting back tears.

You don't blame her... you've wanted to cry since this thing started.

What's even worse is you know she's infected now just by being near you.

Her fate is sealed, she'll be like the rest, monsters chasing the very same goal.

Isn't this your fault?

You look around and see an abandoned cabin.

Desperate, you push Rarity into the cabin and lock the door.

Hooves bang against the walls, reminiscent of zombies in horror films.

You turn to see Rarity crying and shaking, unsure of what her friends became.

"I'm so sorry."

You feels yourself crying too, the mare staring at you in confusion.

Did... did you really do this?

Or was it Twilight?

It didn't matter at this point, did it?

You give up... you can't run anymore.

As the banging continues with hisses and distorted voice, you run over and embrace the mare.

Rarity freezes, eyes dilating for a moment before nuzzling into your soft coat.

"You should've never had to go through this..." You sob. "I didn't deserve this, either!"

You expect her to be angry, to look at you like you're disgusting.

But she doesn't... instead she keeps you locked in her embraced.

She says nothing, hold only tightening when a particularly loud bang is heard.

This is the end of the road... you can already tell infection is setting in Rarity as you speak.

"It's okay, my gemstone..." Rarity purrs out, you flinching at her flirty tone. "No pony is going to hurt you, my dearest... you just look so pretty...!"

She, like all the others, wants to keep you all to herself.

By the time the door breaks down and you're greeted with the scent of blood, you have an assumption that your time has come...

You couldn't run forever it seems.

[god-complex-12]

Prompts

Master list

* EDITING IN PROCESS.

Rules

- Emoji anons are welcomed

- I only write for male, gn, or ftm trans readers

- I prefer writing for amab readers

- no incest, ya nasty.

- no pedo shit.

- if I write a character who is a minor, it is strictly platonic.

- I write for platonic fics for characters over the age of 18 to.

- no SH, suicide, rape, SA, no shit like that, please.

- No “yandere” stuff.

- if I ignore your request, I either didn’t see it, didn’t know how to write it, or it just went against one of my rules.

- please, put if you want the reader to be male or gn.

NSFW rules

- non of the sub reader stuff, unless they are at the hands of a power bottom (preferably character)

- I prefer the reader to be penetrating, if there is any.

- preferably amab reader. Y’know, with a pee pee. Or a trans (ftm) reader with surgery.

- I will write for a female bodied reader (ftm) without surgery too, just saying I prefer a wee wee.

Fandoms I write for:

Oscar Isaac characters

Steven Grant (Moon Knight). Marc Spector (Moon Knight). Jake Lockley (Moon Knight). William Tell (The Card Counter). Santiago “Pope” Garcia (Triple Frontier). Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina). Jonathan Levy (Scenes Fromba Marriage). Abel Morales (The Most Violent Year). Will Dempsey (Life Itself). Rydal (The Two Faces of January). Nick Masicsko (Show Me a Hero). Jack (Mojave). Shiv (Pu-239). Miguel “Spider-Man 2099” O’Hara (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse). Duke Leto (Dune). Kane (Annihilation). Palo “Poe” Dameron (Star Wars). Llewyn Davis (Inside Llewyn Davis). Richard (The Letted Room). Paul Gauguin (At Eternity’s Gate). Cecil (Revenge on Jolly!). Lightening Face (Basil Stitt).

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2

Characters:

Tasks force 141- Cpt. John Price. John “Soap” MacTavish. Simone “Ghost” Riley. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

Las Vaqueros- Colonel Alejandro Vargas. Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra.

Other- Kate Laswell. Commander Phillip Gaves. “König”.

Six

Characters:

Richard “Rip”. Joseph “Bear” Graves. Alex Claude. Ricky “Buddha”. Robert Chase III. Dominic Adams.

Rainbow Six Siege

Characters:

Viperstrike- Nayara “Brava” Cardoso. Grace “Dokkaebi” Nam. Ryad “Jackal” Al-Hassar. Yumiko “Hibana” Imagawa. Vicente “Capitão” Souza. Mike “Thatcher” Baker. Elias “Blitz” Kötz. Kana “Alamo” Fujiwara. Adriana “Maestro” Martello. Aria “Alibi” Luca. Masaru “Echo” Enatsu. Mark “Mute” Chandar. Julien “Rook” Nizan. Marius “Jäger” Streicher.

Nighthaven- Charlie Tho “Grim” Keng Boon. Anja “Osa” Janković (platonic). Håvard “Ace” Haugland. Jaimini “Kali” Shah. “Finka”. Monika “IQ” Weiss. Alpha “Aruni” Tawanroong. Ngugi “Wamai” Furaha. Elżbiedts “Ela” Bosak. Elena “Mira” Álvarez. James “Smoke” Porter. Jack “Pulse” Estrada.

Wolfguard- Néon “Sens” Ngoma. Sanaa “Nomad” Maktoub. Olivier “Lion” Flament. Siu “Ying” Lin. Gilles “Montagne” Touré. Emmanuel let “Twitch” Pichon. Mina “Thunderbird” Sky. Thandiwe “Melusi” Ndlovu. Morowa “Clash” Evans. Tina “Frost” Tsang. Miles “Castle” Campbell. Gustave “Doc” Kateb. Dominic “Bandit” Brunsmeier.

Ghosteyes- Santiago “Flores” Lucero. Samuel “Zero” Fisher. Nienke “Iana” Meijer. “Nøkk”. Erik “Maverick” Thorn. Zofia Bosak. “Glaz”. Ana “Solis” Díaz. Collinn “Warden” McKinley. Max “Mozzie” Goose. Chul “Vigil” Hwa. Liu “Lesion” Long. Taina “Cerveira” Pereira. Meghan “Valkyrie” Castellano.

Redhammer- Azucena “Amaru” Quispe. Tori “Gridlock” Fairous. Craig “Blackbeard” Jenson. Sebastien “Buck” Côté. Seamus “Sledge” Cowden. Eliza “Ash” Cohen. Jordan “Thermite” Trace. “Fuze”. Brianna “Thron” Skehan. Said “Oryx” Hadid. César “Goyo” Herbández. Jalal “Kaid” Fassi. “Tachanka”. “Kapkan”.

Lucifer (Netflix)

Characters:

Angels- Amenadiel. Lucifer Morningstar.

Demons- Mazikeen.

Detective/or works in that field- Ella Lopez. Dan. Marcus Pierce.

Other- Eve.

DC

Characters:

Justice League- Clark “Superman” Kent. Bruce “Batman” Wayne. Diana “Wonder Woman” Princess. Barry “The Flash” Allen. Hal “Green Lantern” Jordon. Victor “Cyborg” Stone. Arthur “Aquaman” Curry. Oliver “Green Arrow” Queen.

Bat-fam- Bruce “Batman” Wayne. Dick “Nightwing” Grayson. Jason “Red Hood” Todd. Tim “Red Robin” Drake. Damian “Robin” Wayne. Stephanie “The Spoiler” Brown. Cassandra “Orphan” Cain. Duke “The Signal” Thomas. Kathy “Batwoman” Kane. Barbara “Batgirl” Gordon.

Hero- Kara “Supergirl” Zor-El. Queen “Wonder Woman” Nubia. Donna “Wonder Girl” Troy. Karen “Power Girl” Starr. Raymond “Atom” Palmer. Dinah “Black Carney” Lance. Wally “The Flash” Weat. Jon “Superboy” Kent. Koriand’r “Starfire”. Rachel “Raven” Roth. Garfield “Beast Boy” Logan. Zatanna Zatara. John “Hellblazer” Constantine.

Green lanterns- Hal “Green Lantern” Jordon. John “Green Lantern” Stewart. Kyle “Green Lantern” Rayner.

Villain- Jack “Joker” Naiper. Harlen “Harley Quinn” Quinzel. Edward “The Riddler” Nygma. Selina “Catwoman” Kyle. Pamela “Posion Ivy” Isley. Floyd “Deadshot” Lawton. Jonathan “Scare Crow” Crane. David “Black Manta” Hyde.

Other- Lucifer Morningstar.

Marvel

Characters:

Avengers- T’Challa “Black Panther”. Sam “Falcon” Wilson. Steve “Captain America” Rogers. Natalia “Black Widow” Alianovna. Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes. Clint “Hawkeye” Barton. Tony “Iron Man” Stark. Thor Odinson.

Hero’s- Roberta “Captain America” Mendez. Matt “Daredevil” Murrdock. Scott “Ant-Man” Lang. Peter “Star Lord” Quill,

Deadpool- Wanda “Lady Deadpool” Wilson. Wade “Deadpool” Wilson.

MoonKnight- Steven “Mr. Knight” Grant. Marc “MoonKnight” Spector. Khonshu. Jake “Mr. Knight” Lockley.

Spider-men- Cooper “Web-Weaver” Coen. May “Spider-Girl” Parker. Hobie “Spider-Punk” Brown. Ben “Scarlet Spider” Reilly. Kaine “Scarlet Spider” Parker. Miguel “Spider-Man 2099” O’rara. Anya “Spider-Girl” Corázon. Gwen “Spider-Gwen” Stacy. Miles “Spider-Man” Morales. Cindy “Silk” Moon. Mary “MJ” Jane. Peter “Spider-Man” Parker.

Other- Tony “Taskmaster” Masters. Brock “Crossbones” Rumblow. Joaquín “Falcon” Torres. Yelena “White Widow” Belova. Gwen “Gwenpool” Poole. Kraven “Kraven the Hunter”. Felicia “Black Cat” Hardy. Soel “Luna Snow” Hee. Elektra Natchios. Albert “Spawn” Simmons. Frank “Punisher” Castle. Loki Odinson. Stephen “Doctor Strange” Strange.

Triple Frontier

Characters:

Francisco Morales. Santiago “Pope” Garcia. Tom “Redfly” Davis.

The Card Counter

Characters:

William Tell. La Linda. Clirk Rogers.

A Most Violent Years

Characters:

Abel Morales. Lawrence. Peter Forente..

The Two Faces of January

Characters:

Chester’s McFarland. Rydal.

Ex Machina

Characters:

Nathan Bateman.

Scenes From a Marriage

Characters:

Jonathan Levy.

Life Itself

Characters:

Will Dempsey.

Show Me a Hero

Characters:

Nick Wasicsko. Micheal Sussman?

Mojave

Characters:

John “Jack” Jackson.

Pu-239

Characters:

Shiv.

Dune

Characters:

Duke Leto.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters:

Miguel “Spider-Man 2099” O’Hara. Peter “Spider-Man” B. Parker. Jessica “Spider-Woman” Drew. Peter “Spider-Man Noir” Parker.

Obey Me! Shall We Date?

Demons- Lucifer. Mammon. Leviathan. Satan. Asmodues. Beelzebub. Belphegor. Diavolo. Barbatos.

Angels- Simeon. Luke (platonically).

Humans- Solomon.

Anime’s:

*If the characters are like high schoolers, I will only right with them aged up. However, if the character I’d like 14 and below, I will note write with at all because 15 and above I can get a more accurate less childish personality with them being aged up.

Devil Man Crybaby

Characters:

Akira Fudo. Ryo Asuka. Miki Makimura. Miki Kurado. Psycho Jenny.

Haikyu!! (Ify about this one)

Kurasuno- Yu Nishinoya. Tobio Kageyama. Kei Tsukishima. Kiyoko Shimizu. Shoto Hinata. Ryūnosuke Tanaka. Koshi Sugawara. Hitoka Yachi. Tadashi Yamaguchi. Keishin Ukai. Daichi Suwamura.

Nekoma- Kenma Kozume. Tetsurō Kuroo. Lev Haiba.

Aoba Johsai- Toru Oikawa. Hajime Iwaizumi.

Fukurōdani- Kōtarō Bokuto. Keiji Akaashi.

Shiratorizawa- Wakatoshi Ushijima. Satori Tendo.

Attack on Titan

Characters:

Scout Regiment- Armin Arlert. Mikasa Ackerman. Levi Ackerman. Hange Zoë. Sasha Brown. Erwin Smith.

Military Regiment- Hitch Dreyse. Kenny Ackerman.

Warriors- Reiner Braun. Annie Leonhart.

Nobility- Historia Reiss.

Eldia- Ymir Fritz.

Paradise Island- Carla Jeager. Kuchel Ackerman.

Sword Art Online

Character:

Kirito. Asuna. Sinon.

Seven Deadly Sins

Characters:

Meliodas. Escanor. Gowther. Ban. Diane. King.

Hunter x Hunter

Characters:

Killua Zoldyck (platonic). Gon Freecss (platonic). Kurapika. Chrollo Lucifer. Feitan. Leorio.

Parasyte

Characters:

Satori Murano. Shinichi Izumi. Kana Kimishima.

Demon Slayer

Characters:

Ubuyashiki Family- Kagaya Ubuyashiki.

Hashira- Giyu Tomioka. Mitsuri Kanroji. Sanemi Shinazugawa. Gyomei Himejima. Shinobu Kocho.

Former Hashira- Kyojuro Rengoku. Tengen Uzui.

Demon Slayers- Tanjiro Kamado. Zenitsu Agatsuma. Inosuke Hashibira.

Demons- Muzan Kibutsuji. Enmu.

Death Note

Blue Exorcist

Ouran High School Host Club

Soul Eater

Black Butler

Angels of Death

High-rise Invasion

Noragami

Psycho-pass

Monthly Girls Nozaki-kun

The Way of the House Husband

Kotoro Lives Alone (platonic w/ Kotoro)

Cowboy Bebop

Jujutsu Kaisen