Time Magic Shenanigans And MC’s Kids From The Future Come To Visit Them. Though Something Is Off. While

9k Followers Special

In which Crewel and Crowley somehow manage to destroy the time-space continuum and end up with dozens of mysterious children to care for.

Little do they know that these are (Y/n)'s children from various timelines where she married different NRC students.

Idea by @tickledpink31.

"By the Great Seven, why are there so many children here?!"

Just as Crewel had set a foot into the headmaster's office, he was immediately overwhelmed by the sudden noise of high-pitched wails and children's screams. A barrage of small children had taken over the office, some running around happily while others destroyed the furniture and knocked over vases. There were more than twenty small children, and the oldest couldn't have been much older than seven years. For a while, Crewel merely remained at the entrance and gaped at the crowd of children.

The papers he had intended to deliver to the headmaster sailed out of his hands and fell to the floor. There was pure chaos going on, and his paper spill had exacerbated the issue even more.

It took the headmaster a while to notice his visitor. He had been busy wrangling his poor top hat away from an especially mischievous fae child. After a little while, the headmaster succeeded and managed to put the mangled hat back on his head. Only then did he give his attention to his colleague by the door frame. "O-Oh, Divus! Come right in! Just make sure to shut the door—" the headmaster announced hastily. "Rook Jr is quite the stealthy one..."

Just then, a blond boy tried to zoom past Crewel, but he managed to grab him by his collar and raise him into the air just in time. The professor eyed the rambunctious boy quizzically. "Rook Jr? Is that you?"

The boy let out a sheepish giggle and even gave him a clumsy salute. Somehow, he seemed unbothered by the way he was held into the air. "Aye, monsieur! Maman loved to call me that as well— But my name is actually Philippe. I am the proud protector of my siblings!" he announced proudly and raised his nose upwards.

"Oi, stupid Philippe, as if you were responsible enough to protect Jaques and Laure!" The female voice came from below the professor, and he indeed found a young girl — she shared similar features with Philippe — tugging at his expensive coat. "I, Noelïe, am the protector of the Hunt family!" she corrected and saluted much more properly.

After Crewel had made sure that the door was locked properly behind him, he lowered Philippe to the floor again and removed his grasp from his collar. Without wasting another second, an enraged Philippe stormed over to Noelïe, and they began brawling on the floor.

"Oh my, quarreling siblings..." Crewel watched helplessly as they rolled away.

"Well," Crowley trailed off sheepishly, "at least Umbra and Solis get along better..." His finger pointed to a pair of twins by the other end of the room. Each of the siblings, a boy and a girl, possessed the strange feature of winding, black horns — and not to forget, pointed ears. They wore expensive gowns in the shades of green and black, befit of royals.

"Look, Umbra!" the boy cried out and held out a picture frame to his sister. "I found this floating portrait of the grand witch that Grandpa Lilia always talks about!"

"Oh my, let's show him! I'm sure he has more stories to tell!" Without another word, Umbra had taken the frame out of her brother's hand and was now on the move to another corner of the room. It looked like they really were searching for something with how they lifted up the sofa with their magic, only to lower it to the floor again when they only found dust and cobwebs.

"Where did all these children come from, Dire?"

"I don't know!" Crowley exclaimed and threw his hands into the air. "The heavens must have seen my boredom and blessed me with these adorable bundles of joy—"

"Wait," Crewel interrupted and inspected his boss more closely, "your coat is missing a few feathers—" Indeed, there were gaping holes here and there.

A pained sigh escaped the headmaster's lips as he pointed to a girl with lion ears. She sat on his desk chair and was happily munching away on dozens of black crow feathers. "Ah... yes... the little lioness over there likes them. Ouch, who knew that such ferocity could be hidden behind such an adorable face..." The headmaster buried his face in his gloved hands and began mourning for his poor, tattered gown.

When Crewel turned his gaze to the desk chair again, he realised that it was empty. Instead, he soon found a weight clinging to his left leg. "Sir, do you want to play with me? Play with me, please! Let's play hunting, okay?" A look downwards revealed that the little lion-girl was smiling up at him toothily. "I'll give you a head start, and then you run away as fast as you can? I'll chase you once the time's up! I promise I'm really good at it! My cousin Cheka says I'm the fastest predator he knows, even faster than my daddy!"

"Oh my, what might your name be?" Crewel asked in amusement and ruffled her hair.

"Aria! The fiercest lioness in the entire Afterglow Savannah!" she exclaimed proudly and drummed her hands against her chest, like a seasoned warrior. "No one can scare me! Not even my mommy when she yells at me to eat my vegetables."

The corners of the professor's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "Adorable."

His remark drew a little hiss from her lips, accompanied by an offended scowl. "I'm not adorable! Rawr!" she yelled out, although her roar was more similar to a cute mewl. When she realised that she hadn't intimidated him, she crossed her arms and stalked away to her friends, also beast-children. "Dandelion, you're the fastest hyena I know! Cereus, you're the strongest wolf I know! Come play hunting with me!"

The hyena-girl let out a little snicker before she darted away with nimble feet. "Shishishi, you'll never catch me, princess!" Then, she disappeared within the crowd of other children, never to be seen again.

"I'll show you two how to roar properly after this!" the wolf-boy teased before he also made his grand escape. Without an issue, he lunged over a tall bookshelf and disappeared behind it.

Now that he was free again, Crewel turned his pressing gaze to his boss again and put his hands on his hips. "Alright, Dire, so where did these children really come from? And don't you dare tell me that the stork delivered them to you."

"I don't know." Crowley merely shrugged. "They appeared after I accidentally destroyed the time-space continuum."

"You what—" Crewel spluttered out in horror.

The headmaster raised his hands into the air and shot his colleague the most calming smile he could muster. "I swear, I didn't mean to! It was all just an unfortunate accident... But you know, a wise man once said that there were no mistakes, only happy accidents! And can you believe it? Now we're surrounded by adorable, little children—" The happy grin on his lips disappeared, and he soon rushed over to a duo of children by the window. "Wait, Anemone! Don't bite your cousin like that!"

Anemone let out a low growl and bared her sharp teeth at the boy next to her. "But Nemo took my toy without asking!" she wailed when the culprit wouldn't pay her any attention. With unmatched vigour, she shook her head left and right, causing the mop of blue hair on her head to become a wild mane.

Nemo merely let out a little giggle and held the toy out to her. "I just wanted to show you a cool trick, Anemone!" he said happily and opened up the golden shell toy to reveal a glistening pearl. "Here, look!"

An awe-struck look appeared on Anemone's face, and she immediately ceased her crying.

"Wow—" Another child appeared by the cousins' side, a confident girl that wore a thick pair of black glasses. As she looked at the toy in fascination, she pushed her glasses up and let a sure smile appear on her lips. "That really is cool, but I know another trick! I can show you, if you want to!"

"Really? Ursula, show us!" Nemo cried out.

Anemone nodded along eagerly and held the toy out to the silver-haired girl. "Hurry up, Ursula!"

"I see what you mean with adorable now, Dire," the professor began and chuckled to himself. Yet, his moment of appreciation was short-lived when he turned to the headmaster to find him being mauled by the lion-girl Aria again. "But still, what are we supposed to do with all these children? Have you found a way to send them back home yet?"

"No, and I've tried really, really hard, believe me," Crowley began after the vicious predator had tired of him playing dead. He rose from the floor and dusted his tattered coat off, a giant smile on his lips. "But why send them back when I can just open a nursery with them? Just imagine, Divus! Night Raven Nursery? How does that sounds? I, for once, love it!"

"Have you gone entirely mad? We can barely handle the older students, as is, with all these overblots going on—" Crewel cried out in disbelief. "And you want to have small, helpless children nearby?"

"They can protect themselves, no?" Crowley rolled his eyes and pointed to a group of children by his coffee table. "Tell him, Rose!" The headmaster beckoned the girl over, and she at once appeared by his side.

The red-haired girl grabbed the alchemy professor by his hand and led him over to the coffee table, which was full with steaming tea-cups and cookies. She let out a little giggle before she took her seat again. "Grandpa Divvy! You're finally here— Do you want to join our tea party?" The girl patted the empty seat next to her. "My daddy always throws tea parties, as well— with all of his friends! But oh well, mine are so much more fun than his! Who wants to follow all these strange rules about how to drink your tea? You can drink your tea however you want to at my parties! If you want to add salt instead of sugar, go for it!"

The boy with orange hair, seated next to her, let out a hum of agreement. "I love salty tea! Way better than sugary sweet..." he exclaimed while pushing strands of hair out of his face. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, and he gave a peace-sign to the baffled professor.

"Don't mind Anthony and his strange tastes... He got it from his father," a girl at the table said and let out a little giggle. Without wasting any time, she had skilfully poured tea into an empty cup and now held it out to the professor. She urged him to take it when he wouldn't, otherwise. "Here, have some tea, mister! I would usually hand you some cake to go along with it, but Grandpa Crow said that he doesn't have any."

Finally, Crewel took the cup and dared a little sip. "And who might you be?" he asked when she handed him a cookie and some sugar cubes for his tea.

"I'm Madeleine! Mommy always says I'm as sweet as madeleines, hehe. And Daddy always says my eyes are the same colour as perfectly baked madeleines." Her eyes shone proudly as she took another sip from her tea. "You should come by our bakery someday, Grandpa Divvy! It's been a long while since you've visited us. There's tons of new cakes on our menu that Daddy wants you to try!"

"Grandpa Divvy?" he repeated the nickname in confusion. "How peculiar..."

The professor was ripped out of his thoughts when the sound of crying reached his ears. He turned his gaze to the sobbing boy who had sought refuge in the soothing arms of Madeleine. A motherly look flashed across her face as she cradled the weeping boy in her arms. "Oh my, Bernard... why are you crying?" she asked and stroked his soft hair.

"Eris is being mean to me again!" he yelled out and pointed to another red-haired girl at the table.

"Really?" Madeleine asked softly. "What did she say?"

"She told me that I would never become a magical enforcement officer like my father!"

Eris rolled her eyes at the accusation and threw her velvety hair over her shoulder. "I didn't say it like that, you idiot," she grumbled under her breath. "I only said that it's very hard to become one! So you need to work a lot and give it your all!"

Bernard's face hardened in determination, and he finally stopped crying. "Well, I will work hard!"

A look of relief flashed across Madeleine's face, and she removed her arms from around the young boy with bright blue eyes. "See? Now you two troublemakers play nicely with each other," she cooed and nudged him towards Eris again, who welcomed him with a playful punch to his shoulder. The sight caused Madeleine to shake her head in amusement. "Oh my, even worse than my own siblings..."

Now that the children were busy playing tea party again, Crewel was allowed to return to the only other adult in the room. "Hm... Dire?" he called out when he found his colleague to be busy handling a large group of children.

Crowley was being climbed on by an endless amount of children. They were giggling and laughing as they were put to the floor again, only to resume their climbing fun. "Yes? Pardon me, I was busy dealing with all these Al-Asim children... There's a bunch of them! They are never-ending!" Crowley let out a little wail when one of the younger siblings began fiddling with his mask. "At least little Zahra is there to calm them down when things get a little bit too hectic."

All the children began rejoicing at once. "Zahra is our bestest friend!" they cried out together and rushed over to the older girl nearby.

She welcomed them with open arms and hugged them all in what seemed like an overwhelming group-hug. A genuinely happy smile decorated her face as she exclaimed, "Aww, I love you guys, too! Everyone of you: Malik, Fatima, Aamira, Ibrahim—"

"See? Never-ending," Crowley remarked, chuckling under his breath. Then, he turned away from the children and focused his entire attention on his colleague. "Now, what is it you needed from me, Divus?"

"Have you noticed the way all of these children address us as their grandfathers? Isn't that peculiar?"

"Well, there is a simple explanation for that—"

"Grandpa Divvy? H-Have you seen my mommy? I... I really miss her!" a little girl with flaming blue hair interjected. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes as she extended her arms out to him, wishing to he picked up. The professor reluctantly did so and cradled her in his arms when she began sniffing. "She wanted to read me some bed time stories— my favourite, even! Do you know the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice? Can you read it to me?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know where your mother could be," Crewel muttered and tilted his head at her. "But now, on closer look... You really do look like (Y/n)."

At that, Crowley broke out into a loud bout of laughter. "Haven't you noticed yet, Divus? All of them look like (Y/n)!" By then, he was wiping the tears from his eyes. "And each of them also shares traits with some other students here at Night Raven College. Do you see that tall boy over there? I swear I've seen someone with blond hair and purple tips around campus before..."

The boy he spoke of stood next to a much smaller girl. A little pout graced her lips as she handed him a hair tie and pointed to her lavender-shade locks. "Konrad... Can you braid my hair, please? The braids opened up when I helped my daddy on the farm earlier..." she muttered and clasped her hands together adorably.

"Of course, Daisy." The blond boy smiled softly and urged her to turn around. With the utmost of care, he ran his fingers through her messy hair and unwinded even the most stubborn knots. "Would you like a French braid, or a fishtail braid... or perhaps we could try out a pull-through braid?"

"Oh— I'd like a French braid! My mommy isn't all that good at braiding, sadly. But she always tries her best!" An enthusiastic grin graced her lips as Konrad went to work with skilful and nimble fingers. After a while, an adorable snort escaped her lips, and she added, "But you should see my daddy try to braid my hair... He is always so impatient and gives up within a minute."

Konrad and Daisy broke out into a fit of giggles.

"Well, I love braiding hair! I wish I could braid my dad's hair, but he's always so busy with his job..." Konrad muttered under his breath and exhaled softly. "At least Mom always allows me to braid her hair, even if hers isn't as glossy and smooth as Dad's—"

The two were interrupted by a boy having snuck up on them and yelling, "Boo!" A grin appeared on his lips when the two children began screaming. The fear on their lips soon transformed into utter frustration, especially once they realised that the half-done braid had opened up again. The mischievous boy merely shot them a large grin, his sharp front teeth sticking out. He also possessed pointy ears and shaggy black hair, where little tufts of hair stuck out on each side. "Did I scare you?"

The headmaster let out an exasperated sigh and scolded, "Ciaran, don't go scaring others like that! People might start crying or—"

He was interrupted by a slap, its echo bouncing around in the office. Surprised, he realised that sweet and adorable Daisy had marched up to Ciaran and had whacked him over the head angrily. "Oi, take that, you stupid fae!" she yelled and began growling like a feral dog.

A series of whimpers escaped Ciaran's trembling lips. "Ouch..." He held his head in pain and watched in shock as Daisy marched back to Konrad, smiling innocently as if nothing had happened. Konrad patted her on the shoulder before beginning to braid her hair anew.

"—or they might take revenge... and then you'll start crying..." Crowley finished and shook his head in disbelief.

At once, a gentle human girl appeared by the side of the wounded fae child. She tucked her silver-coloured hair behind her ears before she soothingly whispered, "Hey, don't cry... Where does it hurt?" Her voice was as soft as expected, probably even able to lull the wildest of beasts to sleep.

Ciaran let out a series of sniffles. "She hit me here, Chimere..." He pointed to the red mark on his forehead.

Chimere smiled gently and took his hand into hers. "You don't need to cry... Adam and I are here for you," she cooed, and at her command, a green-haired boy with slightly pointed ears appeared by her side.

A confident grin appeared on Adam's face as he yelled out, "Yes! Don't cry!" The volume of his voice was so loud that he managed to outyell every other child in the office. He gave Ciaran's hand an empathetic squeeze. "It will go away!"

"Now my ears hurt..." Ciaran complained, yet smiled at his two friends.

Crewel, who had been in deep thought until now, let out a drawn-out sigh after having analysed the faces of the last three children. "You're right, Dire... They all look like (Y/n)..." he admitted woefully and cast his gaze at the ground. "You say that you destroyed the space-time continuum, right? Could that mean that these are various timelines where (Y/n)—"

"—married a different student here at Night Raven College and had children? Yes, absolutely! That's the only logical explanation," Crowley finished while picking up a tired Aria into his lap.

"Ah... I hate it here..." Crewel huffed in disappointment. "To think that my adopted darling child would marry one of these dirty street dogs..."

Crowley, however, waved him off and began laughing happily instead. "Hey, don't be so pessimistic, Divus! I love it here..." A blissful sigh escaped his lips when Aria had finally fallen asleep in his lap, softly breathing and cuddling up against his destroyed jacket. "Lots of grandchildren for me, (Y/n)'s other adoptive dad. And who else would be better at playing babysitter than me? Oh, this is simply paradise..."

"Excuse me?" it came from outside the office. "Headmaster Crowley, are you in there?"

Crowley froze in fear. "O-Oh— don't come in, please. I'm very busy right now!" he cried out nervously.

"It's me, (Y/n). It's an emergency! Grim climbed onto a tree and doesn't know how to get dowm now!" In your desperation, you had pushed the door open and marched inside, initially not even noticing the many children. You rushed over to the headmaster and clasped your hands together. "Please, he's been crying for the last hour already... and nothing we've tried so far works—" It was only when a child curiously tugged at your blazer that you realised how the room was filled to the brim with children. By then, they were all silently staring at you in awe.

"Uh... You must be wondering why there are so many children here..." Crowley trailed off and shot you a sheepish smile.

"Yes, indeed." You furrowed your eyebrows when all the children began flocking to your side. "Where did these guys come from?"

Crewel rubbed his temples in exhaustion. "Well, it's a long story—"

He was interrupted by a sudden return of the screaming and wailing from earlier, now tenfold worse. In a united chorus, all the children yelled out, "Mommy! Mommy!" Small and chubby hands were grabbing you wherever they could, even toppling you over and sending you falling to the floor.

"I missed you, Mommy!" someone screamed from your left.

From your right, someone yelled, "Mommy, can we finally go home now?"

The masses around you blurred into one big mess. "Help!" you cried out as you were hugged and squeezed by more children than you could count.

"Oh no," Crewel muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. "We have to help (Y/n), Dire!"

However, Crowley merely shook his head woefully. "I don't think we can, Divus. It would be impossible to tear a child from their mother— even more so when its dozens of little brats." The worried frown on his face soon turned into a enormous smile, and another heavenly sigh escaped his lips. By then, his eyes were basically the shape of hearts as he stared at the children in delight. "Well, what a grand opportunity to have met all of my lovely grandchildren! I should destroy the time-space continuum more often."

Crewel rolled his eyes. "Please don't..."

The screaming and yelling soon became unanimous — and you could somehow discern them yelling, "Mommy, I love you!"

more absolute nonsense with swords? more absolute nonsense with swords!

% BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH THE HAITANIS  

☁ with ran , rindou

☁ synopsis how they treat you as their “best friend” before bonten

☁ warnings gn!reader , them being flirty little bastards , playful teasing , pet names , love for eating , it’s really long

☁ note head empty only haitani brothers . probably will make another for when they join bonten

Keep reading

by みどり子 

☆　please don’t remove the artists’ sources! ☆

The way that Sakura is inspired after cherry blossoms with both her name and appearance, and the cherry blossoms symbolise the transience and impermanence of life due to their short life spans. Sasori fights against a girl who represents the fleeting nature of life which completely contrasts his obsession with immortality and skurhliexbkjgfswgblpeq

LOVE that Sakura clowns on Sasori's fuckass stupid beliefs not only with her skill set but also with her entire existence. He was untouchable until he wasn't, he was smart until he wasn't, he was apathetic until he wasn't in the span of like, an hour. The best part being that the thing that ultimatively makes her so strong (her humanity and affection and care towards Chiyo) is the one thing he can't have and would absolutely lose if he were to turn her into one of his liveless bum bitch puppets.

She really is the ultimate troll. We love her.

 Intrigued With You

I ii iii iiii

Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader

Warnings: Slight mental breakdown (?), mention death of a minor character, vomit, implied depression, paranoia, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy coping methods, blood, I THINK implied toxic familial relationship(s), just to be safe.

This blog contains dark content.

Disclaimer: contents/lore may differ from the game.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog/interact with fics and fanart dni.

Idk the word count cuz I forgot to check lmao.

Overall story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a bit too much of an interest in you: in which your body finally gave out in this chapter.

==

It does not speak. Nor does it move, staying as still as a doll would. But it is not a doll, it is a puppet that was worked on for a great while. And it was that very puppet that was staring at you with glassy blue eyes. It reminds you of a curious cat, round features narrowing into confusion.

The puppet then slowly moves its head left to right, checking the surroundings. The sight it’s met with is a cluttered room, with puppet parts scattered throughout, and the smell of grease thick. Could it even smell? Feel the plushness of the chair it was currently resting in, or how ticklish the hair must be at the nape of its neck? Or was it as bleak as every other puppet before a personality was programmed into it, unless it was faithed to be scrapped?

Creak

The gears are turning too harsh inside it. Loud enough to hear, yet the body does not look like it’s on the verge of overheating. Everything comes to a halt once it turns its head forward, gaze landing on you once more.

Sweat forms and slides down your temple. Hot, cold, hot, cold – you feel both at once, a cool breeze biting at your exposed skin. Your clothes feel too hot, the scent of musk strong underneath your nose. Gulping down a scream, your wobbly legs manage to keep up. You resist the urge to fall to the floor like a disregarded ragdoll.

Your purpose is not done yet.

One step, another, and it takes you an odd number to get back to the table. Your hands grasp the edge of it, your legs weak and knees on the verge of knocking against each other. Breathe. Just. Breathe.

“Ah… It is a… it is a pleasure to met you. Can you understand me? Nod your head or use your voice, it doesn’t matter.” You sound steadier than you feel. Several seconds pass before the puppet nods its head, slowly and uncertain. You try to think of it as a newborn – something that barely came to ‘life’ – and like all the puppets, this one will be clumsy and will need a hand to hold before everything becomes natural to it.

But it won’t be your hand.

“Right. That’s good, excellent even.” You’re clapping lightly by reflex. Autopilot is taking over. “Now, I have a few things I need to… hm, what’s the word… test you on. However!”

Slowly, like a scared animal, you back away, turning your back towards it and making way towards the door. You look over your shoulder, neither a frown nor smile on your face. It feels like a line. Turning the doorknob, you talk again.

“I left the materials outside. Truthfully, I did not think you would come on. It wasn’t the first time I put in the ‘heart,’ and it was because of that I thought you would remain well, off. Do you mind waiting here? Just for a bit.”

You give it the illusion of choice. Regardless, you would still leave. But you would rather walk out calmly than run out like a mad man. The puppet doesn’t make any attempt to get up. Looks up at the ceiling before down at you again, the eyes far too innocent, yet blank. How could the two exist within it?

A sour-bitter taste starts to form in your mouth. Your glands feel tight. Slick.

The puppet nods its head after observing you for a bit. Your heart leaps with joy, but bursts with fright the moment you close the door with a “I’ll be right back.”

There is a tree several feet in front of your uncle’s personal workshop. Years ago, when you first joined hands with him, you would often sit underneath it. Hugged your parents by it. Read books using the trunk as a backrest. Kissed Howard underneath it.

Carve your names with a heart. And it is this same tree where you place a hand on the trunk to support yourself. The taste of bile was always bitter. And it was always slimy and uncomfortable whenever it builds up.

“Ugh”

Up goes your lunch, wheezing with every convulsion. Nails digging into the tree bark, the wood digs into your flesh, underneath the nails. You’re going to have splinters. More comes up and you’re barely breathing by the time your body decides it was enough.

“Fuck…,” heaving, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve. You should change, you think, supporting yourself with your free hand still on the tree. Everything feels heavy, and everything feels dizzy. You fucked up big time. Too big to giggle and say, ‘sorry uncle,’ and get away with it. You could have ruined the puppet.

The puppet could have also ruined you. In short, you fucked up. You should have kept your hands to yourself. Frustration at bay. Mind at ‘ease,’ no matter how forced it was. Fake it until you make it. Maybe you weren’t capable of that.

“Haah… fuck, why did I do that?” lifting your head, you look ahead – a tight street where it was annoying to get in. Twists and turns, hidden corners; a good place to hide something precious. But a horrible spot to run from. Especially when everything looked the same, from the buildings to even the stupid posters, both encouraging and protesting against the puppets.

Krat was starting to become a city of repetition. Dull.

Sluggishly, you look over your shoulder, to where the shop was behind you. The door was still closed. The puppet was probably – hopefully – inside. On that stupid red plush chair, surrounded by disregarded parts and paperwork that needed to be filled out. You wonder if it could read.

What would happen if you just… ran?

Your uncle would find you, certainly. Maybe he would kill you. Or send you back to your parents, disappointment in their eyes once they find out about your sudden appearance. Or maybe Lorenzini Venigni – a man you only met but once – would put you in debt one way or another?

He was your uncle’s friend, after all.

Maybe the puppet would go to find you and rip you apart. The puppet this, the puppet that, it’s now sitting ‘awake’ and ‘alive,’ in the workshop. You were with it alone. No-one would come running in this part of town.

You suddenly feel sick again.

--

“Mm, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You feel like a professor, with children’s books bundled up in your arms as you let the door shut closed. Two more bags hung by their handles on your arm. Sweaty and slightly out of breath, there’s strands of hair sticking to your face. Your ponytail was a mess, and you could smell the sweat.

Your eyes were dropping, and body felt heavy. It took effort to even stand.

The sun was barely setting, and your uncle still wasn’t back. You also took an hour running around town to buy these last minute ‘supplies.’

It jolts to life, lifting its head, tilting it next once it notices your exhausted state and scrambled appearance. Its gaze then lands on the items you’re carrying, like it didn’t notice them before. It probably didn’t. It probably thought you had left for good. And you wish you did.

“I just… mm, I just wanted to see if you could,” you draw out, placing everything on the table with a ‘plop.’ “If you could read. And maybe write. Of course, if you don’t want to, then by no means do you need to do these… things.”

Selecting a book at random, you flip through the thick pages and large word formats. It had pictures to go alongside it, showing what was taking place in the text. Does this count as making fun of it? Now that you think about it, was the puppet even programed to read…?

Hell, could it even write?

Heat creeps up your neck like ants the closer you get to the puppet. It shuffles in place, adjusting itself. Your fingers twitch when you hand the book over… only to look at its left arm. Or rather, where the left arm should be. There was nothing there. You look behind you to see the arm on the table.

Oh. Right. You forgot about that.

Everything felt heavy and unsteady.

“…” you could offer to read the book to it. But if you do, then won’t it look like you’re trying to bond with it? It could use the arm it has, surely, right? But what if it keeps dropping the book? Oh, and the writing, you’re not sure which hand –

“Okay, how about this? Let me push the table – can you hold this for a bit? – closer to you.” scuff marks are left behind as the table squeaks against the floor. The puppet merely looks on, almost as though it could tell you didn’t want its help. You should consider that a good thing. But it makes everything feel worse.

Your arms are strained but the table is close enough to where the puppet can lean on it without trouble. “Thank you,” you take the book from its grasp gently, “and, here we go. I’m going to place this here…”

You lay the book on the table. With your permission (a nod when it looks at you) the puppet traces the cover. Whether it could feel the texture, or read the words, something caught its attention. It blinks just like a human before looking at you again.

Insects crawl up your skin, eating away at your flesh. A cold sweat spreads throughout your body, hairs standing on edge. The bitterness is forming on your tongue again, foot tapping harshly and rapidly. It’s louder than your heartbeat, drumming in your ear as your blood rushes through every tunnel within.

Despite everything, you were starting to feel… drained past the point of simple tiredness.

“Are you able to read… Hm, do you know what ‘reading’ means?” The foot tapping increases the longer you speak to it. Stay near it. It nods its head, and you feel a tiny bit of relief. Because it means you don’t have to baby it completely. Hopefully not at all.

Your uncle could do all he wants.

… you said you were not going to hold its hand, but isn’t that what you’re doing? Your brain is starting to turn into mush. Maybe just once wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Okay, good. Can you read this, please?”

Summer’s Fair, was the title of the book. It was a small book, but the pages were thick. A sun, wildflowers with a pretty woman in yellow were engraved on the cover. Leatherback, you think. Secondhand, used but greatly cared for and perhaps even loved by the pervious owner.

You almost feel bad for putting it to use like this. For this.

The puppet takes its time inspecting it. Gently yet clumsily, it goes through the pages, trying its best not to rip the pages. With a boyish and innocent appearance, you could almost find it cute. But you don’t, you can’t, and you won’t. Because it is a puppet, and puppets unnerve you.

But humans do too, these days. Shaking your head, you wait until it is done with its little field trip. It flips to the first page, and its attention is fully on the words written on it. Slowly, you walk away, and bring a stool over to sit near the table. Near, but not at. Because if you sat at the table, it would imply you were willing to do more than this.

The only thing stopping you from turning it off was the puppet itself. Ignoring the fact it resembled a young man, it was a puppet. Metal like material, or steel, or whatever it was made from. A human man would be stronger than you. But a full-sized puppet? You had even less of a chance of getting away if it decided it didn’t like what you were doing.

It could easily snap your neck if you even try to sneak behind it. And the arms – they look like they’re meant for combat. Maybe the puppet knows how to fight. It’s probably been programed into it. A nice little detail you were kept in the dark about if it was proven to be true.

What was the purpose of this puppet? Calling it ‘son,’ only to obsess over it. Creating it into an image you could not comprehend. A mockery of the dead. A mockery of the puppet itself.

His grief was understandable. You would feel the same if your child was taken away from you just like that. A child you didn’t spend time with yet loved with all your heart –

But this puppet was not his son. It would never be. To replace a human, a loved one was…

“… may I see what page you’re on?” Polite, and not as stiff as you thought you would sound. It slides the book over to you. It’s near the edge and after taking a glance, you push it back. It starts reading again, and you’re met with nothing but harsh silence. The ticking of the clock, the flipping of the pages, your heartbeat, the gears inside of it moving –

It’s all white noise. Like a buzzing fly, settling into your head. Everything feels fuzzy, but prickly too, poking at you. It stings. Teeth shattering pain that courses through your body. It’s deep inside, unable to soothe the pain. You rub your head with your fingers.

It does little to help. When you look at the puppet again, you notice that it is looking at you from the corner of its eye – not at the book. When its gaze meets yours, it quickly goes back to reading. Heart drops, head aches too much, harder to think. Now that you finally had some time to ‘rest,’ you realize how fatigued your body was.

You needed some fresh air.

Before the room fully turns black, the dots decorating your vision get larger. When was the last time you had a sip of water today? Or proper sleep? Not those thirty-minute naps you would take three times a day.

Your eyes were probably dark, and face unhealthy. Nap. Yes, you should take a nap.

But the puppet…

The puppet…

The…

…puppet…

… there’s a dull pain pounding at your head.

… did something fall?

… there’s a shuffling of clothes.

…. Your body feels a little less heavy now.

… but the surface against your head was still firm, more than human skin.

… when you finally manage to open your eyes, you’re met with the hazy sight of a boyish face. Pretty eyes that are a color they shouldn’t be. Too blue. The hair was too fluffy, but the freckles looked familiar. Just like the portrait hanging in your uncle’s house.

…. And it looked less frustrated, less lonely like that little boy waiting for his father to return home. You wish you could have met that little boy. That little boy he’s so overwhelmed by feelings of regret and grief drowning him in the dark depts of the ocean.

… Maybe if you met that little boy then…

No. Nothing would have changed. Because you did not have a purpose then. You did not know Krat until a year later, did not know how puppets worked or how the parts looked. You did not know who was who, and…

--

When he returned with Howard, there was blood on the floor.

There was blood on the floor, and your body was being cradled in the single arm of his masterpiece.

==

hate to be that person, but please reblog fanfiction and fanart in general. While i am always greateful that people comment and reblog my own stuff, it is a bit disheartening to see blogs who follow/interact who have only one or two posts that were dated from last year, or not having any reblogs or content from fandoms, especially the ones i am in interact. It is not a just 'me' problem. I have seen many bring this up too, and even had a few mutual deactivate because of it, and honestly, it is stuff like that that makes me want to not contuine running this account. But with all of the recent comments and even reblogs, it rekindled my inspriation.

However, i am not saying to do that on every fic. Just some, at the very least and often enough, if that makes sense.

But from here on out, if you ask to be tag (and don't have anything on your blog that relates to what i said above), or spam like my posts without even reblogging one or just commenting, then there is a higher chance of being blocked. leave a comment, reblog, interact with your favorite creators, not just me. It helps a lot.

I am extremely grateful and happy for the people who do comment and reblog (Insert heart, on laptop)

Tag list: @ijustreblogstuff-i-like @chiofany @quzbea @cute-angi @nealcaffrey2129 @connorsoddsock @rositabluemoon @shiro-from-cafeberry @sunnyhascome

after replaying a thousand times to confirm every word, cross referencing and asking my japanese friend specifications (because some words in japanese that are in the dictionary just. dont exist in english in some cases) THIS is i think the closest i could get to a near perfect dictionary, if you wanna try it and you find anything odd feel free to tell me since i'm using it along with the jpn dictionary as a base for the mod i'm making. i tried to explain any that were confusing but tbh playing this game on english is truly hard mode lol! And yes! Some words are redundant, it's a japanese translation issue, i tried to give them nuance?? Both honestly some words are so simmilar it may as well be the same in english..

Notes: 'resident' is their specie, it's the fan given name so i used it

'Weak' is moreso untalented (to be bad at something)

'Frail(weak)' is more like vulnerable, physically weak/brittle, subject to damage

'Affliction' is because it can be disease or a curse, something that eats away at the health/body/mind, that needs to be 'cured'

'Incapacitate' is something like 'weaken', to make someone unable to hurt or move for example, or to lower their autonomy

'Like' can also be 'love', japanese doesn't really differenciate

All the verbs are placed in neutral forms (ex: to search, to find, to go, to lead, to want, etc)

I don’t know why but this is surprisingly adorable to me: the museum that has Nikkari Aoe (the sword) put a picture of the TKRB Nikkari Aoe in front of the actual sword ;_; 

PAPA?!

father!mysta x mother!fem.reader

DRABBLE FOR MY FAVORITE FOX

“EVERYONE BE QUIET! Mysta is trying to talk, go ahead Mysta.” Ike told the rest in the call. They were doing another among us collab, and Mysta was imposter.

“Well I was in—”

“Papa?”

“PAPA?!?” Everyone in the call exclaimed, except Luca. Mysta immediately muted and turned to his daughter standing at the door way. Her hand up, holding the door knob, the other holding her fox plushie that her father bought. Rubbing her eye and yawning.

“Yes baby? Can’t sleep?” He opens his arms to let her know it’s okay. She nods and walks to her father, crawling onto his lap.

“Papa? What are you doing?”

“I’m just playing games sweetie, with uncle Luca and my friends.”

“UNCLE LULU! CAN D/N SAY HI!” He only giggles and unmutes, everyone going quiet upon him coming back. Mysta gives her the go ahead. “UNCLE LULU!! ITS ME!! D/N!”

“HI PUP! HOWS UR PAPA AND MAMA!”

“THERES A MAMA?!?”

“MYSTA! IM SORRY, I DIDNT KNOW SHE WOKE UP FROM HER NAP. I WAS BUSY MAKING DINNER, im sorry.” A female voice comes from mysta’s mic. Y/n goes through the opened door and sees D/n on her father’s lap. She loudly whispers, “are you muted?” He laughs and shakes his head no. “Oh…” Mysta pulls his wife to sit on the armrest of his chair. Giving her a kiss, and D/n leaning onto her mother.

“MAMA AND PAPA IS FINE! MAMA IS MAKING CURRY FOR DINNER!”

“Uhm so, let me explain…” Mysta explains that the two is his wife and daughter.

“Wait how does Luca know though?”

“UNCLE LULU IS MY FAVORITE EVIL MEAN MAFIO BASS!”

“Mafia Boss sweetie—” Y/n smooths down her daughter’s bed head and places a kiss on top.

“MAFIA BOSS” The couple just laughed at their daughter.

“Wait papa? Why is your name re—