#snipped

[khr-gilded-cage]

Nana weeped and tried to hug her Tsuna, her baby pushed her way. She didn’t wanted Tsu-chan to confront his Papa, she just wanted them to have dinned together. "Tsu-chan, please, don't fight. Just stay and eat with Iemitsu-kun."

Yuno interrupted. "Nana, I have a house, I not living with you. And please stop calling me Tsuna."

"Don’t say that!" Nana cried, tears falling for her eyes. "But your name is Tsunayoshi, you are my cute little Tsu-chan."

Yuno sighed. "No, Sawada, I am not. I was adopted. You are not my mother. I have a family already. You are not part of it."

The brown-haired woman cried further. "But we are family, when your are back home where you belong, you should stay with me!"

"My home is with my parents who raised me my whole life. Not with a strange woman who birthed me." He replies, tired of this delusional clingy woman.

Nana pursed her lips. She wanted her baby back so Iemitsu will come home. Why her Tsu-chan didn’t wanted to stay with her? She was his mother! He belong with her!

"You are not my mother." Yuno cuts in. "And I will not stay with you. I can visit once or twice. Maybe."

Nana tried to grab his arm, Yuno grabbed her wrist and gently pushed her back into the couch. "But this is your home, Tsu-chan! You can't leave me!"

"Yes, I can and I will." Yuno said. "You will never see me again. I want nothing from a terrible mother like you. I have a much better mother and no desire to replace. Do yourself a favor, Sawada and leave me alone. I have a life and good parents already. You are just a crazy woman witha absent terrible husband. You marriage is broken, your family is broken. I wnat nothing with you."

"W-we are not!" Nana said feebly. "You father..."

"Is not Sawada Iemitsu." Yuno finished. "I was adopted. Remember?"

Nana sobbed. "No! Iemitsu is your father. We are family and will spend time together!"

"He's not." Yuno repeated. "And we will never spend time because I will never live with you."

"Your father is a great man! He just has to work!" Nana said frustated, her brown eyes had a crazed look. "He will come home and we will be a family again! You can't leave me!"

She lunged at him, desperate. Yuno easily grabbed her shoulders and threw her back in the couch without harming her. "Do NOT touch me, your crazy bitch!"

Nana busted into tears, hysterical. "N-no! My Tsu-chan! I want my baby back! I am not insane!" She scramed, sobbing and crying. Throw herself in the floor like child throwing a trantum. The housewife raised her eyes to him, as if expecting to confort her and be her son.

Yuno abruptly rose from the chair and left, he has no time for Sawada Nana's crazyness. Let her face her own choices. "Do me a favor and jump off a cliff and die, Sawada Nana."

He left the hysterical sick woman behind without guilt, her dreams of a perfect family shattered. She was mad, but he feel no remorse whatever in abandoning her.

Nana was sad and depressed and wanted to sacrifice Yuno for Iemitsu to get her happy family back. He feels no pity for the delusional clingly woman.

..........

She is just a liability to control him at this point. Given Yuno is not a 'Dame' like Tsuna (therefore a failure of begin Iemitsu 2.0, Nana would probally demand Yuno to take the role of husband, emotional incest as its finest)

Nana tries to manipulate Yuno into begin nice to Iemitsu 'for her', he didn’t care for her abusive ass

[darsfanfics7]

The Path Chosen. A snippet of chapter 19👀👀👀

Before Harry could give it any measure of thought, he was already stumbling over his pooled blankets and turned-over trunk contents lying strewn on the floor, fumbling with his glasses to sit on his face. He didn't even bother with his wand. It didn’t matter. 

He made it down to the darkened common room, then out into the corridor outside, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the towering arcade windows.

McGonagall’s office was up the moving stairs on his right. The dungeons were down, on his left. Beyond all logical reasoning, his feet turned left.

Chapter coming VERY SOON:D

[morgottbathwater]

✶ Freezing Night

SFW. Suicide and child abuse. Tarnished Aeka's origin. Word count — ~769

The Roige Reda family had gathered in their cramped dining hall, tying their kitchen and low set cedar chabudai. The head of the family, the patriarch, was seated on the floor among his blood kin. Despite his aging body and tender joints, he sat with crossed legs and arms; unmoving, only his chest puffing with each deep breath. On his right, his wife, youthful in contrast to her mate. Across from her sat her twins, two boys joking with glee; despite the jovial chattering, their banter dissipated like smoke in the gloomy air. They had gathered as a family at the request of their youngest adoptee, which the patriarch had granted.

As the room's door slid open, a thin figure stepped through the darkness. Her skin illuminated by the faint cinder of a lantern. She bore a long tunic, stained from days long of work. Her hair was ungroomed and dripping down her forehead, stray strands of hair stuck to her damp face. She closed the door with her heel, at the displeasure of her mother clicking her teeth with furrowed brows. The girl stepped forth, the carpet soiled with traces of her muddy feet. 

“Greetings, my family,” she turned her gaze to her father, the samurai who never taught her to duel, though granted her the privilege to tend to his katana. “You have my gratitude, father, for allowing us to converge as true family.”

“Ichabod, why do you call upon us?” he questioned without debate.

“I wished to see my kin once more, assembled in the room we briefly meet in at noon, we’re hardly entertained,” she turned her head to the table, locking eyes with one of the twins. “You agree, right?” 

“I’m uncertain,” her brother answered with a mumble, jaw pushing against his palm.

“Ichabod, cease your inanity,” her father demanded. “You may leave,” he sighed, waving his hand and letting his sons stand.

“Sit down.”

Blank stares shifted to Ichabod, standing boldly before them. A subtle hint of a grin was seen, despite that, her gaze remained hollow. 

“You impudent child, how dare you speak of my sons–” her mother snapped, as she attempted to stand, her husband grabbed hold of her arm. She shot a glare and seated once more, begrudgingly with gritted teeth.

“I want to leave my thanks to my family before I continue my journey, you have taught me much. Sowing seeds, rinsing our dishes, sewing my brother's torn clothes and sharpening fathers blade,” she moved her hand from behind her, revealing her father’s wakizashi. The blade was as reflective as a still lake, carefully tended to and sharpened like a needle. 

“Ichabod–” her father began. 

“Thank you, my mother, for guiding me to become what you are not. You are but an uncouth, undignified woman. You are, truly, no better than the sheep we eat.”

She turned, pointing the short blade to her siblings, “and you bunch, you are forlorn and devoid of burden. You, both, are destined to fall, and you may thank your mother. My sole regret before my departure is I didn’t snuff you at nightfall years ago, so thank your father.”

Ichabod grabbed her blade, both of her hands wrapped tightly around the handle, the tip of the blade pointing towards her toes. With trembling wrists, she looked at her father. 

“Father,” she declared. “Your home will carry the bane of my curse till the day its wood rot.”

Her white gown bore a deep red hue as the blade of the sword twisted within. Her abdomen spilled buckets of blood onto the bald spots of the floor lacking tatami mats. Blood dripped down her thighs, down her leg, through the crevices of the house. She howled, neck twisted downwards as she watched her stomach consume the blade through her black hair. Her family watched, no one intervened. An audience watching a show unfold before them, their youngest killing herself in their very home, a sight they’ll never blot out. As Ichabod tumbled to the floor, uneven breaths, blade still lodged in her guts; they watched. They talked, they ate, they slept. 

Until her body had been labeled an obstacle, her father demanded her sons carry her outside. “Doesn’t matter where you put her, as long as she’s off the property.” So they did, leaving in a creek, no less than a kilometer walk from their residence. “Leave the wakizashi.” He said. 

Although nature reclaimed Ichabod once more, her presence remained in the Roige Reda home. Not long after, the patriarch informed the family of their move north. Ichabod, graceless, rotting Tarnished, was left behind.

[yomoya-girl]

Jump Festa 2024

Demon Slayer Mugen train’s “Akeboshi” opening on big screen

[booklovers-pleasure]

Alert! Alert! Iron flame snipped!

Ahahahahaha

“We have a runner,” Ridoc mutters.

Who tf is the rider of Solas?

Who is Aaric?

Sloane 😭

[severeknightmakermonger]

I'M STARVING, DARLING

LET ME PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING

LET ME WRAP MY TEETH AROUND THE WORLD

START CARVING, DARLING

I WANNA SMELL THE DINNER COOKING

I WANNA FEEL THE EDGES START TO BURN

Sir, excuse me, sir???

[talictries]

lando criminal AU fic idea

“We’re not gonna’ get caught,” are Max’s convincing words and Lando has a completely dogshit feeling about this. 

“Dude,” he scuffs his sneakers against the payment. “If we do, I’m fucked.”

Button’s gonna kill him. Well, only if he gets to him before Ricciardo or Alonso do.

“Well, you won’t get fucked,” Max shoves his hands into his hoodie - no doubt where his screwdriver and pocket knife are - accent sharp - emphasis on the ‘t’s. “Because we will not get caught.”

Max’s view on things is so black and white. Lando swims in grey. Speaking of grey, that’ll be the only colour he sees on all four walls if he ends up in the can.

Really, the likelihood of getting done is infinitesimally small. How many times have he and Max been out on the town? Hundreds since they got into this industry at sixteen - two teens tryna’ make a living. Max has never been caught once.

And as for himself… well, he doesn’t really like to think about it.

Especially not now - seeing as they’re side by side scouring the streets in the dead of night. 

Carjacking is something he’s good at. Nimble fingers, precise movements, the knowledge of cars and engines and everything he and Max studied together as children in the back of Nana’s daycare wishing they would be Formula One drivers.

Fate didn’t take them there in the end - no matter how much their small minds dream. Instead, it has taken them to a McLaren.

“You good?” Max’s voice is gruff.

“Yeah,” Lando bites his lip - seals his fate. “Let’s just make this quick.”

And in thirty seconds they’re out of London’s bitter cold, and seated as passenger and driver. Max turns the heating on. Lando presses gloved fingers to the vents and feels his skin and muscles there for the first time in three days.