#as the warden completely out of nowhere

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Folsom Prison Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, sexual harassment, crude sexual comments directed at reader, mentions of rape, panic attacks, sexual coercion, blackmail, recovery from an assault (PLEASE PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN READING THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED! Please take care of yourselves, lovebugs.)

Word Count: 5303

A/N: This is definitely one of the darker chapters I’ve written. I just wanna reiterate that if you are at all triggered by mentions of rape or sexual harrassment happening toward the reader, please skip this chapter. However, there are no explicit scenes of assault. I always feel like that crosses a line when writers add those really descriptive scenes.

Remember, if you are a victim of anything like this, you are loved and you are not defined by what happens to you. As a victim myself, I completely understand if you make the decision to skip this week's chapter.

Again, please, please, please take care of yourself while you read this chapter. I love you all! And minors, definitely do not read. doooo notttt readddd.

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“Have I mentioned that I hate this idea?” you said to Dean harshly, standing outside of the Impala.

Dean chuckled. “I think a few times.” He kissed your forehead. “Look, Deacon’s a friend of ours. He’s got you covered. See you in a few days, okay?”

“I fucking hate this idea,” you groaned.

Dean leaned down to kiss you, effectively cutting off your sentence. “Just trust me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. See you, Dee.”

And with that, you set off to meet a friend of John Winchester’s, Deacon, at Green River County Detention Center. Several men had been brutally murdered in the B-block of their men’s prison, and Deacon, the warden at the prison, had come to the Winchester brothers for help. Reluctantly, you agreed to pose as a guard in-training to be right there with the boys the whole time and to assist with their escape. 

Your plan was only able to be accomplished due to the fact that the FBI hadn’t gotten a clear photo of you; not from the bank and not from your previous arrest. Your mugshot from Baltimore had “mysteriously disappeared.” However, Sam’s and Dean’s photos were all over the place; Dean’s from St. Louis and a sketch of Sam from a witness in Milwaukee. The two boys were going to purposefully get arrested to be able to get into the B-block of the prison. That was why you hated the idea so much. 

Deacon was tough, you wouldn’t lie, but no tougher than your father. His whole “ex-military” thing didn’t intimidate you at all, and perhaps that was what kept the other officers from messing with you. You’d proved in your “training” how capable you were, and Deacon claimed that was part of the reason they accelerated the hiring process for you. 

However, your tough, impenetrable attitude didn’t deter the inmates from making jabs at you. Your first day on the job, a scrawny inmate with rotting teeth smacked your ass harshly in the cafeteria. You promptly had him on his stomach with his arm twisted behind his back. Deacon called you into his office afterward to fill out an incident report.

“Guessing you guys don’t have that many female hires, huh?” you asked Deacon upon entering his office.

He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of saying it. Most girls wouldn’t be caught dead in here, and we pretty much don’t hire ‘em. Just for their own safety.”

“Don’t you think that’ll raise some red flags, then? Especially given the fact that I appeared out of nowhere and ‘accelerated through training’?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), we don’t exactly hire the best and the brightest. Besides, that sort of thing happens with the guys all the time. Some get transferred from other prison, for others, this is their jumping-off point before they start workin’ for the police force. Actually, I think a lot of ‘em are too excited to see a girl to even think about where you came from. Trust me, nobody’s paying enough mind to your circumstance to notice any of the cracks,” he assured you. 

You let out a breath. “Okay. The boys get arrested yet?”

He nodded. “Should be on their way over now. Just finished questioning them a few counties over.”

“Wait, questioning them? How serious of a questioning are we talkin’ here?” you asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. That’s above my paygrade, kid,” he replied. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk for you. I run a tight ship, but you’re fresh meat. Some of these guys haven’t seen a girl in fifteen, twenty, thirty years. When they see you, be prepared for some wild animals. What happened earlier isn’t gonna be an isolated incident. 

“But one of ‘em even looks at you funny, you tell me. Don’t go lookin’ for trouble, though. Keep your head down and only jump in when you absolutely have to. I have you on patrol of the cell blocks so there’ll at least be a barrier between you and them. At meal and rec time, though, I can’t protect you from what’ll happen.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat. 

“Why don’t you get outta here? I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded again and smiled a little before turning around and heading out of the door. Some of the male guards snickered as you walked past them through the hallways of the prison, but you paid no mind to them. You were focused on seeing your boys again. 

“You don’t belong here,” one of the guards called after you.

You turned on your heel sharply. “What’d you say to me?” 

“You heard me, toots. Go back where you came from,” the guard replied, a foul smile across his face as his buddies snickered.

You gave him a challenging glare. “I’m gonna say this as politely as I can: get fucked.” 

You turned back around and walked away, only to feel a harsh yank on your arm to turn you to face the man. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me, toots,” you said, mocking him. “How small is your dick that a third-grade insult from me got you all fired up? And holy shit, do you need some listerine. You got halitosis? What’s going on there?”

The guard’s friends began to laugh, too, much to the chagrin of the man still holding your arm. He released you roughly, and you knew it’d bruise tomorrow. “I oughta teach you some respect,” he said.

“Oh yeah? And risk losing your job?” you questioned. “You make one wrong move, and I start screaming.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. Just fuck off.”

“That’s what I was doin’,” you replied, turning away again. This time, he let you leave, and you were grateful. You were trying to remain as unnoticed as possible during your time here; despite the fact that being the only female guard put an immediate spotlight on you. 

You continued down the corridor to your assigned patrol; right outside the doors of one of the cell blocks. You tried to seem as unfazed as possible in your nerve-wracking situation and walked with authority; as much as you could muster given most of these men towered over you. You mentally cursed your father for stunting your growth by starving you to make sure you stayed small for hunting purposes. Your baton in hand, you walked up and down the cells. 

“Hey, they got us a hooker,” one of the men from the cell laughed. “How much for the hour, sweetness?”

As that man’s cell erupted into laughter, you walked past another where a man was pleasuring himself in plain view of the hallway. You knew he was doing so to get a rise out of you, and you swallowed your nausea and continued walking. 

“I’m gonna fuck you real good, sweetheart,” a man growled from behind his bars. “At rec time, your ass is mine.”

Again, you just kept walking, ignoring their lewd and offensive comments. You prayed to see Sam, Dean, or Deacon sooner rather than later to continue going through with this. And for a moment, you wondered if this case was even worth it. ‘If these fucking scumbags are the ones dyin’, I’d be okay with that,’ you considered. 

***

At the prisoner’s scheduled lunch time, you held up the end of the line of prisoners heading to the cafeteria. Every time the men at the back of the line tried to turn their heads to sneak a glimpse at you, you used the butt of your baton to hit them on the back of the head and turn their gazes forward. You weren’t completely comfortable doing that, but you were doing your best to prove that you weren’t someone to be messed with.

When you arrived with your group of inmates in the cafeteria, you saw Sam and Dean sitting alone at a small table and talking in hushed voices. You hoped your face didn’t convey your relief to see them. Even though they were in orange jumpsuits, just the sight of the Winchesters made you feel safer. Dean caught you staring at him and smirked a little before turning back to his plate. You forced yourself to remain stoic and keep your hardened expression on your face. Dean got up from the table with his tray to go throw his food away, and Sam followed. Sam somehow didn’t notice a heavily tattooed prisoner with a thick goatee heading straight for him, and he crashed right into him.

“Sorry. I—” Sam tried.

“Watch where you're going,” the man said.

The brunet stumbled over his words. “Yeah. Sure. I just—”

Dean walked up in front of Sam, voice darkening. “He said he was sorry.”

“You talking to me?” the man scoffed. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Great, another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times,” Dean quipped. “Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me. Let it go.”

The tattooed man walked away, and Dean turned around to Sam. He said something quietly and winked at his brother, making Sam roll his eyes before catching sight of the much larger man the tattooed prisoner was walking back over to them with.

You tried to keep your composure when the man swung a punch at Dean. Dean, however, caught him and held him in place from behind. “We can end this right now. No harm, no foul,” the Older Winchester asserted.

The prisoner soon broke from Dean’s hold. He grabbed him again and slammed him against a wall. The man stepped back on Dean’s foot, and Deacon subtly jerked his head at you for you to step forward to help break up the situation.

“That’s enough!” Deacon commanded, walking over to the man Dean had brought to the floor. “On your feet, Lucas.”

The tattooed man, whose name you just found out, stood. “Yes, sir, boss.”

Deacon held out his baton and pushed Dean’s chin up with it. “What's your name?” he asked him.

“Winchester.”

“Well, Winchester, not a good start.” Deacon stared him down angrily. “Solitary. You too, Lucas.”

You immediately grabbed Dean’s wrists and began pushing him in the direction of solitary confinement while another guard grabbed Lucas. 

“Are we having fun yet, huh?” Dean called over your shoulder to Sam.

You roughly shoved him forward, making him face ahead again. 

“Y’know, I usually don’t let girls tie me up without a first date,” Dean quipped. You knew he was trying to rile you up and get you to break character for his own fun.

“If you wanna keep your tongue, I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” you replied forcefully.

For some reason, that comment seemed to excite Dean. You fought back an eye roll at his amused expression. You roughly shoved him— not too hard, just hard enough to sell it— into the solitary confinement cell and slammed the door shut. 

Dean smirked at you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

You tried to fight the heat rising to your cheeks, upset by how easily he could get a rise out of you. You left him in solitary confinement and followed the guard who’d brought Lucas to solitary back to the cafeteria. 

“The boys seem to like you a lot,” he sneered. “Havin’ fun yet?”

You recognized him as one of the men who’d taunted you after you left Deacon’s office earlier that morning.

“Buckets,” you responded dryly. 

“I can think of a few ways we could have some more fun,” he said to you, backing you into a wall. 

“Get off me!” Your breath quickened, and without even thinking about it, you used the flat part of your forearm to push his chest away and kneed him in the groin.  

“You bitch!” he yelped. You took off running back to the direction you thought the cafeteria was in, taking a moment to steady yourself against a wall. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, and you slumped down against the wall, clutching at your chest. You closed your eyes and did your best to steady your breathing and thankfully succeeded. You wiped the few tears that had fallen from your eyes, and steeled yourself to go back out there. 

You rejoined your group of guards, including Deacon, and the other prisoners. Deacon seemed to notice you were upset but said nothing about it. All he said was, “You’re watching the bathrooms with Jones,” referring to your next assignment during the prisoners’ working hours and your partner for the time being. 

You were relieved to see Sam when you made it to your destination. He was having to scrub the floors with a mop that seemed to be more like ragged threads now than a cleaning tool. 

“How you doing?” Sam asked the older prisoner he was with.

“I’m fifty-four years old, mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the windows. How you think I'm doing?” the man’s scratchy voice replied.

“Alright. Bad icebreaker. I'm Sam.”

“Randall.”

“Nice to meet y—” Sam cut himself off, seeming to have realized something. “Randall. Hey, weren't you there the night that guard died?” 

That caught your attention. You threw a look to the guard in the other part of the bathroom ensuring he was focused on other prisoners and not Sam and Randall’s conversation.

“Yeah,” the man replied.

“Well, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“They say the stress of the job got him.”

Sam stopped mopping. “Yeah? What do you say?”

Randall didn’t answer. “Why are you inside, kid?”

“ 'Cause I got an idiot for a brother.”

“That'll do it,” Randall replied. “Well, this place ain't so bad. Compared to the old cellblock, this is the damn Hilton.”

“You spent time in the old block?” Sam questioned.

“Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer.”

“Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?” Mark Moody was the man who Sam and Dean suspected of being your ghost killer.

“He was there. Yeah I was there, too, the night that lunatic bought it,” Randall explained.

“Yeah? It was a heart attack, right?”

The older man chuckled. “Sure, his heart stopped right after the guard stopped using his head for batting practice. The next morning, I was in his cell, mopping up the blood. What a mess.” He shook his head.

“Wait. So he– he was beaten and– and nobody reported it?” Sam asked in confusion.

“You kept your mouth shut, unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, y’know?” Randall chuckled; the gravelly sound almost sending a chill down your spine. 

‘This guy could easily play Hannibal Lector,’ you thought.

“Randall, exactly how much blood was there?”

*** When working time was over, the prisoners had an hour in the yard before dinner and returning to their cells. You watched from the far corner of the fence while he played poker with every man who was dumb enough to try him for cigarettes. You folded your arms across your chest and watched with amusement when Sam came up to him and began bickering with him about something.

Dean then stood and yelled, “Hey, fellas! Who's ready to deal?”

He played several more rounds of poker, and you did your best to pry your eyes away from him so as to not arouse suspicions of any kind. However, that proved to be the least of your worries.

The guard from earlier whose balls you’d kicked in came up beside you and nonchalantly leaned against the gate. “You’re playing hard to get. It’s cute. I like it,” he said.

“Leave me alone, please,” you replied coolly. You were ready to bash his head in.

“Or what?” he challenged, still facing forward. “I think you owe me an apology for earlier. I’ll have a real treat for you tonight when we get off work.”

You jerked your head toward him. “You try anything, and I swear to god I will gut you.”

“Easy there, princess. It’d do you well to get in good with me. I’ll be able to protect you from them.” The guard nodded out to the inmates who would turn their heads every once in a while in your direction.

“Not interested,” you said simply. “Besides, I think I need more protection from you than from them.”

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. “Maybe so. Maybe if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll take it out on your little inmate friend over there.” He nodded toward Dean who was triumphantly fistpumping after winning another hand of poker. 

You looked back at him, worry swimming in your eyes.

“That’s right, I noticed how you keep looking at him. You’re not very subtle, I hope you know. And he’s definitely not,” the guard said. “So, if you wanna keep him alive, you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll see you tonight.”

You stared at the ground ahead of you in fear and tried to think your way out of your situation. All that played over in your mind was the sickening feeling of his body against yours in that cinderblock corridor outside of solitary confinement. Bile rose in your throat, and the only thing snapping you out of your trance was the whistle indicating the end of rec time.

You went through the motions of your “job” by escorting the prisoners from the yard into the cafeteria for dinner. Your head was not at all in the moment or in the case, and fear kept your adrenaline moving for the next several minutes. It wasn’t until Dean got in another fight and nearly got himself killed that your adrenaline surged for a different reason.

“If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead,” Deacon told Dean.

“You waited long enough,” Dean huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Deacon shoved his baton into Dean’s stomach, and you nearly lunged at him for doing so. He grabbed the back of Dean’s head and told him, “Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk.” The warden looked up at you. “Take them both up to the infirmary.”

You and the guard who’d been harassing you did so. Dean noticed how off you were, but did his best not to convey what he knew. When you got both Tiny and Dean into cells, you had no desire to leave with the guard; afraid of what would happen to you.

You were almost angry at yourself. You were (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’d fought monsters, ghosts, and demons, and you were losing your mind over a guy that would shit his pants if he knew what you’d seen. However, the fact that he was still a very real threat drowned out those thoughts.

***

The man Dean had fought had apparently died in the infirmary; no doubt by the hands of the thing you were hunting. While Dean was fighting said man, Sam snuck to the room Moody had been murdered in and burnt the rest of the blood away, so you knew it couldn’t be him. All you could do was wait for the boys to talk to the other prisoners to get the name of your true target.

Later that night, you just wanted to make it back to the Impala when you got off your shift. You even waited a while after everyone else on your shift had left to make your way out of the prison. You hoped the guard whose name you didn’t even know wouldn’t make good on his threats. However, your stomach dropped when you saw him leaning against Dean’s car.

You stopped several feet from him.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he told you.

“How the fuck do you know what car I drive?” you questioned.

“It’s not hard. I mean, you’re the only ‘67 Chevy in the parking lot. Nice ride, by the way,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

In an instant, he was running toward you. You turned and sprinted away, only to be knocked to the ground by the man. He roughly pulled your hair back, yanking your head back against him. “Remember what I fucking told you,” he growled against your ear. “Are you gonna start playing nice?”

***

Everything felt wrong. No matter how many showers you took, you couldn’t scrub the feeling off your skin. Back in your motel room, you laid on your side wrapped in an oversized shirt. You stared at the wall in the dark, completely numb. You hadn’t even been able to cry since it happened.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. For hours, you laid there. You wouldn’t allow sleep to hold you close enough to darken the world around you. 

One thing you kept thinking was ‘I’ll never be the same again.’ The words played on a loop over and over in your mind. They danced around in your head for hours, taunting you. 

You wanted to climb out of your skin. Start the day over. You wished you’d fought back. Wished someone had been sound to stop him. The scrapes on your left wrist and arm were undoubtedly going to bruise in the morning, and your uniform wouldn’t exactly hide them. You knew Dean and Sam would ask questions, and the former would rip the guy’s head off. You didn’t even know that guard’s name. Everything just felt so wrong. 

But you wouldn’t let this stop you from doing your job. You wouldn’t let those boys brave that place alone with no word from you. And so, despite everything in your body telling you not to, you went back to the prison the next day.

***

You could tell Deacon knew something was wrong, but he didn’t press you further. The other prison guards didn’t seem to notice a difference in you; except, of course, the guard’s posse. They would snicker at you every time you walked past, and you could only imagine what your abuser had said about you. 

Thankfully, you only had to endure this last day of awfulness. Deacon was going to “fire” you right after rec time was over to give you enough time to get the Impala pulled around the back of the jail for the brothers to escape through. Your job was to wait for Sam to come over to you and give you the name of the person you were after and find what cemetery they were at. Then, you were going to get the boys the hell out of dodge. 

You watched the boys in the rec yard talking to Randall, the man Sam had gotten information from while they were cleaning the bathrooms. Then, the younger brother came over to you. 

“Hey,” he said, looking around to see if anyone was paying much attention to him.

“Hi,” you replied.

“Whoa, what happened to your arm?” Sam asked in concern, noticing your very obvious scrapes. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, I—”

“This guy bothering you?” That awful, familiar voice said from behind you. 

Without turning around to face your abuser, you replied, “No. Please, go away.”

Sam glared at the man behind you when he noticed how upset the guard’s mere presence made you. You could tell he knew the guard had done something to you; he was a smart boy. 

“Glockner,” was all Sam said to you before turning away. 

“Surprised you’re able to still walk—”

You immediately turned around to him and punched him square across his jaw. 

“Bitch!” he yelled.

“Fuck you!” you yelled. 

‘Deacon’s firing me anyway,’ you thought. ‘Might as well give him a legitimate reason to.’

You got down on top of the guard and started punching hard. His face was bloodied and bruised, the man barely hanging on to consciousness before you were pulled away, kicking and screaming by two other guards. They dragged you over to Deacon, who promptly made a scene of firing you. He escorted you out to the parking lot where he said the cops would be waiting for you to bring you in for questioning. 

Once the two of you were far enough away, he roughly spun you around to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he questioned. “You know they’re gonna be out for blood now!”

“I know that, Deacon! Maybe if your guards weren’t fucking scumbags, though, I wouldn’t have had to do that!” you yelled back.

“What?” his voice quieted considerably. 

“Nothing,” you said. “Just tell my boys I’ll be back for ‘em tonight.” You turned on your heel and walked away. 

“Hey, kid,” Deacon called after you.

You turned around. 

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

You nodded and turned back around again.

*** You discovered that “Glockner” was the name of a nurse in the seventies who’d been caught in the crossfire of the inmate uprising that occurred following Moody’s death. She’d been buried at Green Valley Cemetery following the severe cerebral edema the inmates gave her. 

You returned to the detention center under the cover of night and pulled the car around the back of the prison away from the parking lot where the guards were beginning to change shifts. You waited anxiously dressed in civilian clothes again for the boys to come out of the HVAC unit Deacon told you would be attached to the room he would be bringing the boys into following their staged fight. 

“Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” a familiar voice rumbled. 

Dean and Sam leapt over the fence separating you from them, and you couldn’t help but collapse into Dean’s arms. “Whoa, sweetheart, what’s—”

“No time, guys,” Sam reminded you. “You can reunite later. We gotta go.”

As if on cue, an alarm began to sound through the prison. Immediately, you nodded and broke away from Dean. You headed to the driver’s seat so Sam and Dean could change while you drove. Quickly, you headed to the cemetery Nurse Glockner was buried in. 

***

The brothers caught you up on everything that had been happening to them since you hadn’t been able to talk much over the last week.

“What?!” you exclaimed, following them through the cemetery. “Henriksen’s here?!”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I wanted to get the hell out,” Sam told you. “They were gonna extradite us back to St. Louis or Baltimore or something. Whatever was gonna happen to us, it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

“Jesus,” you responded. “And no doubt, they’re gonna be looking for me soon, too. I beat the fuck out of a guy who knows I drive a ‘67 Impala.”

“What?!” both boys questioned upon reaching the grave of Nurse Glockner.

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah,” you said. 

“I’m gonna need a bit more of a response than ‘yeah,’ sweetheart,” Dean grunted as he began digging.

“Later. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” you said, helping the boys dig faster. 

You could feel both brothers staring at you in concern, but you couldn’t look up at them. 

***

When Glockner had finally been salted and burned, you and the Winchesters returned to the Impala and quickly drove away. 

“You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face,” Dean joked as the Impala’s engine purred.

“Really? 'Cause I'd be happy if I never saw him again,” Sam replied tightly. “I mean, we're not really out of the woods yet, Dean, you know? You thought we were screwed before?”

“Yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time,” Dean responded.

“ ‘Deep,’ Dean? We should go to Yemen,” Sam quipped.

“Ooh, I'm— I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep.”

You were silent the entirety of the drive over state lines and to a motel in the middle of wooded nowhere. You were silent through the check-in process, and silent when Dean crawled into your bed behind you later that night. He began to kiss down your neck, and you wanted to enjoy the feeling so badly.

“Dean.” Your voice broke as you whispered his name.

Immediately, Dean took his face away from your neck. “What?” he asked, hearing how upset you were. “What is it?” 

“I, um—” you started, unable to turn to face him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“The guard—” you said. “—from the rec yard. He, um.”

Dean lightly turned you to face him. “(Y/N), what’d he do?” His voice had darkened considerably at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“He, uh—” your breath shuddered, and you were unable to meet his gaze. “He raped me.”

You swear all of the oxygen looked like it’d been punched out of Dean, his face hardening in the darkness. “Oh, I’ll kill him—”

“Dean, don’t, okay? It’s not gonna—” you protested, reaching up to grab his face to make him look at you. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

“I know, but—”

“Dean, I thought beating him to a bloody pulp was gonna make me feel better. It didn’t. I just feel more disgusting. Like, why didn’t I do that when it was all happening?” You began to cry. “I just— I’m trying to forget it ever happened. And I know I won’t. And it’s awful. And I just— I need time,” you explained.

Silence settled over the two of you for a moment.

“Do you want me to leave?” Dean asked softly.

“I— I don’t know. I just—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how I feel about touching right now. Can you just lay with me?”

He nodded and climbed into bed beside you, the two of you staring up at the ceiling. Wordlessly, you slipped your hand under the covers and reached for his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tightly. 

Your world was turning completely upside down. Your mind wouldn’t slow down, and you didn’t sleep much at all that night. However, you knew that whatever happened to you, Dean was there to keep you grounded. 

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[miss-nandini]

Hello I found your blog and loved your writing!!! I was wondering if you could do “Saying I love you” to the house wardens from twisted wonderland (fem reader if possible) and what their reactions are? ( o///o )

A/N: Hey there! I hope you are doing well. Thank you so much for requesting. Enjoy and have a good day/night/afternoon! 💜💜

HC: Saying "I love you" to him (F! Reader)

You must be a little crazy to have chosen me. How did you hear my unspoken words? You are like the day, and I’m like the night. Let’s get together like the evenings. Love, wonderful love. It will break your heart and then heal it like the ethreal thing it is.

Or, the headcanon, where you confess to him.

I Love You!

Riddle: You broke a rule and he was mad at you. Not to mention he is supposed tutor you as well. Which meant only one thing— nobody's gonna here the end of it. You could tell he was trying hard. He didn't want to lash out. Maybe that's why, he was quiet. When the study session ended, you couldn't take the silence anymore. You didn't want him to be upset with you—not when...you love him so much. He deserves to know that! 

"Riddle, I love you."

He stopped in his tracks. He never expected to hear that words, specially from you. Not after everything. He didn't deserve it. He was supposed to be mad at you, yet...

"(Y/N)... No..."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I- we can't do this. You shouldn't—you shouldn't love ME out of all people. I don't deserve that. N-not that—

"Riddle, that's for me to decide. Say, do you reciprocate my feelings or not?"

"I-I... I do."

His voice was barely above a whisper. His face felt like it was on fire. Why do you have such an effect on him?! Despite all the doubts he couldn't help but melt in your touch as you wrap your arms around him.

"I love you too, my rose, I love you too."

Leona: He was being petty again and he was aware. But Leona is a little shit when he wants to be and we all know that. You were tired of the back and forth bickering. He just wouldn't hear you out. So, you had one last trick up your sleeve aka confess to him.

"Leona, I love you."

He was surprised. Huh? You? Love him? It took him a minute to process your words and when he finally did it he smirked like a crazy person.

"Huh, of course you love me herbivore."

His lips were on yours in no time. Congrats! You just skyrocketed his ego even further.

Azul: "I love you, Azul."

One day you dropped the bomb on him outta nowhere. He was flabbergasted. He is dreaming, right? There's no way in hell that you love his dumbass self! But there's the thing. You do love his dumbass self and when you tell him that, he is ready to crawl in his octopot. His face was redder than a tomato. He can never keep up his cool facade when you are smiling at him with literally hearts in your eyes!

"I-I-I d-don't u-unders-stand?"

He was a stuttering mess.

You took a deep breath and repeated yourself.

"You heard me right, Azul Ashengrotto, I love you."

"I-I-l-love y-you t-too!!!"

You would've sworn he was going to faint when you pecked his cheek.

Kalim: "I love you, Kalim!"

"I love you, (Y/N)!"

Yup, both of you confessed at the same time and ended up becoming a laughing mess, until the realization sank in.

"Wait... (Y/N)... you love me? Like love-love me?"

"Yes, Kalim!"

"Me too!!"

He is so happy that he ends up throwing a party in Scarabia that day. Jamil just hopes that you will keep Kalim in check. Ace and Deuce are quite surprised when they receive an invitation for the party. Well, as long as the two of you are happy.

You gained a whole sun for yourself, congrats!"

Vil: He was doing your make-up. According to him, applying make-up can make your mood better. You didn't really think so. But, oh well, he was passionate. Also, there's another reason for not saying 'no' to him. Because, this is one of the times when his complete focus is on you and you get to see his work. He loves to try out new things with you since you are the only female in the whole campus. (He likes you, but, he will never admit it.) So, it's a win-win situation for the both of you. His dedication makes you smile. Maybe, it's time that you tell him about your true feelings.

"Vil, I love you."

His hands dosen't stop, like he wasn't even surprised. But inside, he felt his heart bursting with overwhelming joy. He is overjoyed that his sweet potato feels the same for him.

He leans in.

"Let me show you my feelings, (Y/N)."

Idia: You decided to confess to him during an anime marathon in his room.The anime was romantic and that felt like a perfect timing. You locked your fingers with his, so he dosen't run away.

"Idia, I love you."

His hair literally was flaming red. He is dead sure that he heard wrong. But, the serious look on your face said otherwise. That's when he noticed how you were holding his hand and man he was sure that his heart will burst out of his chest. How can you even like a pathetic otaku like him?! That dosen't make any sense!!

"I-I-I—

He couldn't even form a proper sentence. His eyes widened even more when you leaned in.

Idia exe. has officially stopped working.

Malleus: Confessing to Malleus was proving to be harder than you thought. This guy gives off mixed signals. Not to mention that he is the future king of Briar Valley. It's really hard to understand this dragon. But, oh well, if you need to find out, then you have to confess. End of story.

So, when he arrives during night time, like he always does, you straight up admit that you love him.

"Malleus, I love you."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, showing his little fangs. He is adorable, you have to give him that. But then, a huge smile spreads across his face.

"My dear child of man, I see that you beat me to it. I wanted to confess too."

Even if his cheeks were red, you decided to ignore that as his lips landed on yours.

[vigilskeep]

and the insane thing is (sorry for starting all my posts this way) the insane thing is if it was so important to keep alistair’s parentage secret and give him a good life and a fresh start like his mother asked, they could have literally not told alistair anything. they didn’t have to make up some confusing lie abt a servant mother complete with an amulet to my knowledge never mentioned by fiona, if hiding that he was maric’s son was the important thing. they could have told him he was anyone’s son. but they wanted to raise him in the kennels with the dogs and then pack him off aged 10 to the templars where he was supposed to get addicted to lyrium to better imprison and kill people like his own mother, and have him as a spare to pull out from nowhere if anything happened to cailan. so he had to know maric was his father regardless of how it completely fucked up his perception of himself, just in case it was useful. and what they did decide to lie to him about was that his mother was an elf and a grey warden and a mage, because that would tarnish that usefulness and their ability to drag him into yet another life he didnt want whenever it was convenient

[folksaga-if]

“It is a long story, and it does no credit to anyone: there is murder in it, and trickery, lies and foolishness, seduction and pursuit.  Listen."

- Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology

You are a human. A totally normal one.

Honestly.

You’re a human. You’re a bartender, which is a very normal job for a human to have, and when you walk down the winding streets of Akureyri you can blend seamlessly into any crowd of people which is, without question, only something that a human could do.

The fact that you came here two years ago with nothing but the clothing on your back doesn’t mean anything; you’re hardly northern Iceland’s first wayfaring soul. That you had no money to your name, no friends or family to speak of — that’s a fairly average human thing, too. And that little craving you have, that quiet urge to dig your teeth into any passing stranger’s throat? It's completely, entirely mundane.

It’s manageable. You’re managing.

Or you were, until someone — someone who's decidedly notas good at this human thing as you are — begins leaving a trail of dead bodies at your doorstep, and a trio of god-like siblings take a seat at your bar.

MAGNI THORSON .

No doubt the mightiest of his siblings, the eldest child of Thor is exactly the sort of person you would expect him to be: a giant (half-giant, in fact) asshole with a smoulder and a knife-sharp jawline to match. He’ll match your every word with a cocky grin and a joke that’s nowhere near as funny as he thinks, and he’ll look every inch the prince that he is all the while.

(Well, the prince that he was. Just don’t let him hear you say that.)

MODI THORSON .

For the supposed embodiment of his father’s wrath, the God of Thunder’s second son is surprisingly…not that. He’s no picnic, mind you — he’s broody, he’s secretive, and he's fucking intense, but that hardly equates to fury incarnate. You’re sure there’s something hiding under that moody surface; whether or not you want to uncover it is a different story entirely.

(Looks like even gods aren’t immune to middle-child syndrome. Who knew?)

THRÚD THORSDÓTTIR .

Valkyrie, seidhr,paragon of strength — with all of her mother’s best traits (and a few of her father’s worst), is it any wonder that Thor’s youngest child was also his favourite? Smarter than her half-brothers and more likeable by a longshot, you might find yourself forgetting how easily the fortune-telling goddess could break you in two. You might, but she’ll be happy to remind you if you do.

(Maybe a little too happy, in fact.)

KATLA B̶͍̏L̸̝͑O̵̟͠M̴̳̓Q̴̯̔V̵̺͆I̷̗͛S̵̠͒T̸̬̒ .

A fellow nomad and your coworker at Black Thunder, the first friend you made in Akureyri has remained your closest. Mischevious, magnetic, and often up to no small amount of trouble, there are times when you think you might know Katla better than you know yourself. You even know about her…well, you know that she…sorry, what were you talking about again?

(It's just that it’s nice, being close to someone who’s so very human.)

THE MARE .

There’s a voice in your head and a shadow in your dreams, and they’re telling you to run. You probably shouldn’t trust them.

(…Right?)

Customize your monster character. New life, new you! Choose your gender identity, change your name, cut your hair, and remember: if you’re starting to grow tired of running from your past, try on a new outfit and start running faster.

Play as one of three runway creatures from Norse mythology — a cunning keeper of the forest, a charming warden of the lake, or a formidable guardian of the mountains. Each has its quirks (would you prefer a hollowed-out tree for a back, or webbed fingers and forearms covered in scales?), but they all have two key things in common: they’ll killto protect their homes, and you’redefinitely not one of them.

Choose your own fate, out of the countless that are presented to you. Had oatmeal instead of skyr with your breakfast this morning? You might have just brought about Ragnarök 2.0. Nice one, asshole.

Multiple romance options, with each available to pursue regardless of your gender or background. Ever wanted to kiss a god under a starry sky? Now's your chance! Or maybe you’re through with immortal beings and desperate to ask the pretty server on a date? Go for it! She’s definitelya human too. Totally. You’d be able to tell if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t you?

Save the world — or don’t.It's your choice, and isn't that what true freedom is all about?

Folksaga is inspired by The Edda, Norse mythology, andTwin Peaks, with a bit of tweaking to the myths as needed for the sake of plot. MC backgrounds have been adjusted to fit for all players regardless of gender identity, and creative liberty has been taken with some smaller points for a smoother storytelling experience. All changes will be explained in an FAQ post (too be added in the links below ASAP!)

AS OF AUGUST 21 UPDATE: The current demo consists of the prologue (introductory lore + character creation), + chapter 1, about 70k words total.

I expect it to be somewhere in the range of 600,000 to 700,000 words, but this is subject to change (and likely will due to my propensity for rambling text. oops.).

I’ve written  short and long-form original fiction as well as a lot of fanfic (say hello @ pentaghastly on AO3, and @kendallroynsfw on tumblr!), but this is my first IF! Bugs and coding issues may appear in the demo; please let me know if any issues arise during your playthroughs.

Folksaga is a work in progress. I would love constructive feedback when the demo is posted, as well as any bugs or grammar issues to be brought to my attention if I've missed them :) I would also love patience, because I'm a full time health care worker who gets sleepy lots xoxo

A Swedish farmer named Sven Andersson was executed in 1691 for having intercourse with a mountain nymph, or bergsrå. I will neither confirm or deny if his Wikipedia article was the inspiration for this IF, except I will confirm it and it definitely was.

MC ORIGINS | RO INTROS | DEMO!!!!! | COG FORUMS | PATREON

[etheries1015]

Imagine MC with a crush on Lilia, but Lilia is completely oblivious. When asked who MC likes, they're vaguely describing Lilia without name-dropping, and Lilia pouts over it because he thinks they have a crush on someone else

Cute! I can see it already...

*slumber party at ramshackle*

featuring ace and deuce, the wing men, who know you have a crush on Lilia. And Lilia, the oblivious old man who is utterly in love with you but can't seem to wrap his head around your hints. Thus, it was time to finally come clean to him!...to the best of your abilities!

Ace- Soooo...now that we're all settled in.....how about we talk about crushes and stuff, right? *winks at you*

Lilia- Ohoho!! I love a good love story! Now pray tell, (y/n), do you have a particular type or someone who has caught your eye?

Deuce gives you a thumbs up and a nod of confidence

MC, blushing- Hmm... well. I do, actually! He's shorter than average, and he's incredibly silly...He has the most beautiful ruby-colored eyes, and he never fails to make me smile.

Lilia was shocked to get an actual answer and analysis and is becoming increasingly worried. Who was this man?? All he could think of was the fact that you indeed had someone! The description didn't even phase him! He never thought you had a thing for him, but he thought he would notice the signs if you had fallen for someone, which he obviously missed! Woe is he, heartbroken and confused.

Lilia, sweating bullets- I see! He sounds...lovely. Does he go to this school?

Ace whispering to Deuce- Is he really this dense...? They practically described him verbatim!

MC, raising an eyebrow- He does. He's in Diasomnia-

Lilia, plotting for murder- Ah! Then I'm bound to know this person, as vice house-warden! Pray tell, who is it?

MC, confused why he hasn't gotten it yet- hmm. He's a fae.

Lilia, taken aback- A fae? Why, the few fae in diasomnia are... Ah! I think I have an inkling who this mystery crush may be.

MC, nodding and leaning in, getting excited- Yesss....

Lilia- Is it Sebek?

...how he came to that conclusion after the descriptions you gave, will forever be beyond me. And Logic.

Ace- oh come on bro even I'M not that dense! They like you, senile old man!!

MC- Ace!!!

Lilia was internally shocked about the "senile old man" comment, but I digress. Once you become that oblivious, how else could you justify it? You can't.

Deuce, getting up and rushing Ace out the door- Sorry, (Y/N). It had to be done. We are tired of you guys flirting and getting nowhere. Good luck!!

Ace and Deuce leave you and Lilia alone, Lilia with an excited and mischievous smile and a blush upon his cheeks (acting like this after the idiotic display...he has very limited brain cells, but it's okay. We still love him.) And then there was yourself, a blushing mess as the fae waited to hear your explanation... hehe.

[minweber]

Replaying DAO all those years later it really jumped out at me how humble the origins - pun not intended - of the series are. And I do not mean the game's technical state and limitations, I mean the actual story.

It certainly did not feel so at the time, but now, with the context of the rest of the franchise... You really are starting in the bumfuck nowhere, saving the arguably one of the least politically prominent kingdoms on the continent from a crisis that will go on to have barely any influence on the overarching story of the series.

Hawke's story begins as that of a humble refugee, but it is a superhero origin story, told by a charismatic rogue, in an interrogation room, to a fierce warrior in a position of power. Inquisitor's life before the mark is almost completely eclipsed by their grand calling from the very second the story starts. And Rook seems to be hyped up as someone very competent and important before their story has even begun. On such a world-saving scale the Warden starts out as an actual nobody, a minor noble in their highest-born incarnations, a criminal saved by their conscription in most other origins.

It is easy to forget this with their later prominence, but when compared to the menagerie of champions and experts from later games, Origins companions as you meet them are also kinda just nobodies. A couple may seem like exotic strangers in the land of Ferelden, but that's it. The one with highest claim to any sort of special role and expertise enters the story by getting his ass kicked and then failing to open every chest in the game. None of them are legendary warriors or mages, and most get roped into the adventure by the virtue of Just Being There, and more than half of them are likely teenagers (I seem to recall that math of Alistair's canonical age in DAO adds up to fucking 19, and Morrigan, Lelliana and Warden are contextually presented as more or less his peers, with Zevran at most a little ahead).

The aforementioned technical limitations also play their part. Ferelden looks dingy and lower fantasy than the rest of Thedas. Local Grey Wardens famously did not get their snazzy uniforms, every building looks like its held together with duct tape and even qunari look like they are missing something in this land of browns and greys.

It all comes together to make the whole thing feel so... charming. Like, fuck yeah, this is The Origins! This is how it all begins! The earth-shattering political shifts and battles against the very gods will come, but they wouldn't be able to without this! Now gather your school field trip of an adventuring party and venture forth!

[ranhaitanisgf]

CONGRATS ON 2K OMG I FOLLOWED U FOR UR NANBAKA CONTENT THEN I SAW THAT U WERE DOING TOKREV TOO AND I WAS LIKE ?? YES THANK LORD BC THESE TWO R LIKE MY FAVORITE THINGS RN

if its okay can i ask for a samon gokuu scenario with oblivious bestfriends + star gazing

tysm for this !!! stay safe !!!! stay hydrated !!! take care of urself!!!!

— samon gokuu // oblivious best friends // star gazing

[𖤐] hello anon! thank you for requesting for my event, and your req has finally been answered !! this is more like one (1) oblivious bsf (you) and one (1) bsf who kinda knows his feelings but also doesnt wanna think abt it. anywho, i hope you all enjoy my lovelies!!

wc: 870+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

“...oi, (y/n), wake up.” samon felt like he was being challenged. he doesn’t know by who; God, maybe? if there was a higher power, it was definitely testing him right now. 

the only reason he had ventured over into your building was because he’d wanted to show you the stars. the sky was particularly clear that night, and ever since you were children, you had always loved to see the stars. in fact, it was one of the reasons that despite working in a prison in the middle of nowhere, you enjoyed your job. 

however, when he’d walked into your small office, you were fast asleep on top of a rather tall stack of papers, completely knocked out. the sight hadn’t surprised him, since it was not an unknown fact that you always tended to slack off when it came to paperwork, (he hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad, but he supposes that it makes sense). 

he’d gone to go wake you up and tell you, let’s take a break and go look at the stars for a bit, but when he’d gotten closer, he’d heard something that he was most definitely not supposed to hear. 

“samon…” you had mumbled, freezing him in his tracks. 

now, what was he supposed to do? 

hearing you utter his name in such a way had gripped his heart in a certain way, and now he wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do next. ignore it and walk away? wake you up and confront you? ignore it and wake you up anyway? 

“gah!” 

“GAH!” 

it seemed the choice had been made for him. 

“samon?! what’re you doing here?! why were you just standing there? you scared the hell out of me…” you exclaimed, clutching your chest to slow down your heart. 

“i just came to tell you the sky looks good right now. and i was standing there ‘cause i was about to wake you up…” he’d decided to take the cool and casual route at the moment, even though you’d caught him extremely off guard. “the clouds are all gone so i figured you would want to see it.” 

“oh, that actually all checks out. i was gonna call you a freak ‘cause you were watching me sleep, haha.” you laughed, standing up from your chair and stretching. “there’s no way i’m gonna be able to submit all this paperwork to warden hyakushiki by tomorrow, so i might as well! let’s go!” as you looped your arm around samon’s and started walking to the balcony, his thoughts began to go wild. 

he’d never really spent too much time thinking about his feelings, especially towards you; he was always focusing on his work and his prisoners. although they were still prisoners and he was still a guard, he’d grown fond of them, (though he would never admit this out loud to them) and helped them with things they brought to him. his little rivalry with hajime was also included with work, and because of this diligence, he never really allowed himself to even think of something aside from it. 

with you though, he found himself thinking less about work and more about normal things. normal things that a twenty-year old might think about, like having a girlfriend and doing things he enjoyed with her. he could teach her all about how to garden and the different kinds of plants and what you can do with them, and he could even train with her. 

except, in these fantasies, it wasn’t a random woman. it was you. 

and that was something that made him a little bit scared. 

now, samon gokuu is not a man to get scared and run away easily, and though he wasn’t running away from you, he was definitely a little scared. not because you’re scary, (at all) but wholly because it was something strange and unknown, and he had no clue what indulging his feelings would be like. he supposes it wouldn’t be bad though. being with you. 

your arm untangled from his as you two reached the balcony, the cool air of the night feeling refreshing. you walked up to the railing, leaning against it as you stared at the stars. 

“ahh, you were right; it’s so beautiful tonight.” you said, a warm smile on your face as you looked back at him. the slight breeze in the night lifted your hair a bit, framing your face damn near perfectly. 

you were beautiful. 

“yeah, um…it really is.” he managed to get out, feeling a little bit too entranced by you. his supposed best friend. he almost felt guilty for whatever he was feeling, but at the same time, he wants to be able to imagine having a future with you. 

as he joined you at the railing, you scooted a little closer to him, beaming up at him with such a joyful expression that it squeezed his heart just a bit, (it really just skipped a beat, he just didn’t want to say it). 

he keeps a small hope in his heart that one day, maybe, these same stars would look down on you and him as lovers. for now though? he’s content just being by your side.

[lukedanger]

During my second playthrough of WotR, I found something that adds a particularly fascinating bit of context to a romance with Arueshalae and how that looks to anyone outside of your inner circle. One that I think further explains both Hulrun's reaction to it and why Galfrey considers Arueshalae a strike against the KC at the end of Act III.

What I found was the in-game book "Unsung Feats behind the Crusades", which can be found in the Ivory Labyrinth. The text is shown below in a screenshot and transcribed into the alt-text if the image is not loading.*

For further context, the Third Mendevian Crusade is the one that Hulrun spearheaded and is widely considered to be a complete failure because it devolved into witch hunts and infighting. While Hulrun is not explicitly mentioned here, this is entirely in line with his behavior. Furthermore, the brave maiden reads remarkably like the Knight-Commander (particularly an Angel or Azata path one): an inspiring leader from seemingly nowhere who likely would have been a major figure in if not the leader of the nascent Third Crusade... tempted into folly and sin, much like a Demon or Lich path commander that doesn't go Legend or Gold Dragon.

Heck, this sounds eerily familiar to what happens in the cRPG version of Staunton Vhane, especially him turning to the demons and Minagho only to be felled when you take Drezen back from the demons. And now you are Knight-Commander, de facto Warden of Drezen, and have the Sword of Valor which has transformed in your hands... then you accept Arueshalae into your personal lance or even start romancing her?

How do you imagine that must look to those outside of your inner circle, particularly those who have lived through the above two incidents? Hulrun may well have lit the aforementioned brave maiden's pyre, and Galfrey would have been left to sort out the fallout of that incident on top of Staunton Vhane's entire saga.

Unlike us, they have not travelled with and gotten to know Arueshale or witnessed how she resonated with the Song of Elysium or been saved by Desna's aegis. They have been busy governing Kenabres and Mendev as a whole, and only hear about this through rumors or a game of telephone.

All things considered, both of them are remarkably calm about it when they come to Drezen and see that the rumors about a succubus were accurate.

*For the sake of due diligence, we should also assess the source, particularly as this is the only time the incident is mentioned to the best of my knowledge. The in-game book is explicitly a pep piece written for Baphomet's neophytes to read and be inspired by, so it is most certainly embellished. However, while details may have been exaggerated or embellished other known quantities such as Hulrun's witch hunts and the Third Crusade being infamous for infighting like this leads me to conclude that the basic facts are most likely true. Especially as lying to neophytes at this stage is a good way to set yourself up for feelings of betrayal later.

[somefanchick]

-Riddle Me This-

(This story is from Riddle's perspective anytime the events of book two. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic is platonic and is cannon for my Yuu-sona, but I do just call them Yuu in the story. Hope you enjoy! Ps. There is a little bit of cussing. I do not own the picture <3)

I couldn’t help but feel guilty. My overblot was the first of many, and they've had to deal with all of them. It was infuriating that I had started a trend of trouble that was pilled onto Yuu’s lists of tasks. Of course it wasn’t completely my doing. However the more it happened, the more something in the back of my mind said I needed to make it up to them.

Trey asked me to deliver a caramel apple tart to them so I was doing just that. Normally he would ask Ace and Deuce, but they had to feed the flamingos. He then looked at Carter, but I insisted on doing it myself. I had noticed that Yuu seemed distant during lunch. They were staring into the distance, clearly not looking at anything or listening to their group of friends as they slowly spooned some soup into their mouth. 

I rang the doorbell only to be met with silence. I knew that they had to be in their dorm because that’s where they always are when they weren’t doing a task for the headmaster or going to class. I admired how determined they were to improve their living accommodations with their own blood, sweat, and tears. They seemed insulted when Trey had previously offered his help in the endeavor, so I had never asked myself, but I knew Ace and Deuce had found some way to help them without them refusing or being hateful about the assistance.

I rang the doorbell once again, only to be met with silence once more. My gut told me to try the doorknob, so I did. The door opened with barely any resistance. 

“Yuu? It’s Riddle,” My voice came out weak and uncertain, I was shaken by the easy entry, “I brought a tart.”

I looked in the living room to find Grim asleep on the couch, a small fire lit in the fireplace. Yuu was still nowhere to be seen. 

“Why hello,” I jumped when the ghost started speaking out of nowhere, “You’re Housewarden Rosehearts right?”

“Yes,” I composed myself quickly, “I came to drop this off on behalf of my vice-warden. Where is Yuu?”

Another ghost made his way over, “I’d put the tart in the kitchen, Yuu isn’t exactly in the mood to see visitors right now.”

My gut twisted, "Are they okay? Where are they?”

The smallest ghost made his own appearance, “We don’t know. They kicked us out of their room. They've been there since class ended today.”

“They kicked Grim out too,” The first ghost crossed his spectral limbs, “That’s how we know they're in a bad mood, not just napping.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I made up my mind. I had to trust my gut.

I left the ghosts and placed the tart in the refrigerator in the kitchen. The fridge was pretty empty, only leaving some juice that I knew Ace had brought last time they had a movie night and some cans of Tuna hidden from Grim on the highest shelf. I was able to place the tart on a shelf alone.

I then made my way up to her room. It was oddly quiet with Grim and the ghosts staying downstairs. I could see that Yuu was in the middle of remodeling some of the smaller rooms, airing them out and leaving their dorm as the only one closed.

“Yuu,” My gut was pushing past my manners, something told me that this was more important, “It’s Riddle.”

“Didn’t the ghosts tell you to leave me alone?” Their voice was a weak hiss, “I can’t do it right now.”

“Do ‘it’?” I was confused, “Yuu what is going on?”

 “Just leave me alone,” Yuu was a bit louder, then they mumbled something I couldn’t hear even though I was right behind her door.

“Can I come in?” I put my hand on the handle, “I need you to talk to me.”

“Why won’t you go away!?” They screamed suddenly and my body stiffened.

I opened the door.

They sat on the floor like it was the center of the storm. Windows had the curtains drawn so the room was as dark as it could be in the middle of the day. The room had clothes scattered rabidly, uniforms and other pieces of clothing that I recognized from school events scattered among the bed sheets that had been pulled from the bed erratically where they hung off the bed. I could tell that Yuu's room was normally clean but they had managed to tear everything onto the ground and wreck the place as if they were a hurricane. Something in my heart hurt when I realized the destruction reminded me of the Heartslabyul garden after my overblot. 

“Go away,” They was mumbling but now I could hear them, “It isn’t real. I have to wake up.”

“‘Isn’t real’?” I approached with caution, “Yuu what are you talking about?”

“This!” They gestured all around themselves without really thinking, “It’s not real. It can’t be real. People don’t-” They were struggling to breathe, but they weren’t crying, “People don’t care about me like this. That’s not how it works. This is all just some stupid dream. I can’t get attached. I can’t. I can’t-”

They was having a panic attack. I had not had one since I was a kid and they were never properly dealt with, so I had no idea what was appropriate. It also confused me because what they were saying didn’t make sense. “‘People don't care about me like this.’” “‘This is all just some stupid dream.’” “‘It’s not real.’”

Yuu, while somewhat blunt and egotistical, was one of the most beloved people in the school. It had become rare that people would mess with them for the sole fear of the repercussions from them or those that cared about them. They helped so many people through difficult times. They were smart, cunning, ruthless, caring, fierce, and loyal beyond most people at this school. Why wouldn’t people care about them?

“Yuu,” I tried to mimic Trey’s comforting tactics as I had seen him do with me, other students, and his siblings on the rare occasion that I saw them. I kneeled down to reach their level and tried to get them to focus on me without touching them, “I’m going to need you to name five things you can see.”

They froze for a moment and I was afraid I had somehow made it worse. But they looked me in the eye with some confusion before slowly glancing around the room.

“I see you,” They let out a breath, “I see my camera on the mantle, Grim’s bed, the cleaning supplies in the hallway, and the mess I made.”

I smiled, “I will help clean that up. Now I need you to name four things you can feel.” 

I saw their vision focus, as if their brain and eyes were realigning, “The wooden floor. The carpet. My clothes. Warm air.”

I nodded, “That’s it. What are three things you can hear?”

Their breathing slowed to a normal pace, “My breath,” they paused to listen, “That one branch outside my window banging against the building. And you.”

“Good job,” I watched as they stopped hunching over and moved to sit criss-cross, “Two things you can smell.”

They inhaled deeply, “Dust and cleaning supplies.”

I took a deep breath of my own, “And one thing you taste.”

“Toothpaste aftertaste,” They were grounded, “I haven’t eaten today.”

“I brought a tart from Trey,” I held out a finger, “Normally I wouldn’t approve of eating dessert for breakfast, but this is a special case.”

They laughed dryly, “Thanks Riddle. What kind of tart is it?”

“Caramel apple,” I shrugged, “He wanted to try a new recipe.”

“Nice,” They looked around at the mess, “Damn. I can’t believe I did this. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I motioned to the clothes on the mirror, “You had to deal with my overblot. It’s only fair.”

“Merlin,” I could almost hear them grit their teeth as they rose to their feet, “I can’t believe-”

I rushed to stand so I could keep them from tumbling back to the floor, “Don’t rush yourself. I don’t want you passing out.”

“I’m so sorry,” They pulled themself off of me and sat on the bed, “I just- No. There's no excuse. I need to stop being stupid.”

“You weren’t being stupid,” I stood in front of them, “This kind of stuff is normal. You’re under a lot of stress and you don’t really have an outlet. Trust me. I get it.”

“You don’t,” they laid back on the bed, “I’m not from here. I’m from another world that is so different from this,” They let out another dry laugh, “People here are as bad as me, ego-wise. You all seem to care about me. Isn’t that insane?” They sat up, “I went from only two people in the world caring if I dropped dead, to dozens of people seeming to genuinely give a shit about my existence. Isn’t that insane?” I could see their eyes glossing over, like the panic and dread was settling back in, “I mean, I’m the same person. Why would people care about me now when I used to be so desperate to have a single person even acknowledge my existence without hating me? There’s no way it’s real right? I have to be in some kind of coma or something and this is some fever dream where people don’t hate me for existing. Right? Why would anyone like me? Let alone do things for me. I don’t-”

“Yuu,” I had to stop her from spiraling back, “This isn’t a dream,” I found myself trusting my gut once again and taking her hands in mine, “This is real. I don’t know what it was like in your world, but we care about you,” I let go of their hands, “I know Ace would have moved out of Heartslabyul if he wasn’t able to escape here with you and Deuce. And,” I looked down, “I probably wouldn’t have lived through my overblot without you.”

That seemed to bring them back again, “It’s real. All of it.”

“Yeah,” I sat down on the other side of the bed, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying sorry for?” Yuu stood, this time their legs supported them, “I’m the one who made a fool of myself. You-”

“Have made more than a fool of myself,” I smiled, “I overblotted. I was the first domino in the series of troubles you’ve had to face. And then I embarrass myself by forgetting you are human.”

“Excuse me?” They turned to look at me as I stood back up.

I made my way forward, “I forget you are human sometimes. You seem so ethereal. You work hard but it looks so easy for you. You handle our issues with ease, even though it has to take such a toll on you. And I’m sorry for that. You have your own issues and I think all of us forget that.”

They stopped looking at me, “Can we go eat now?”

“Yeah,” I could tell she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

They stood and made their way out of the room. I followed behind, watching for any sign of further distress or panic. No one in the house seemed to notice Yuu had emerged from their room. They opened the fridge, retrieved the tart, and then moved to get the proper silverware for the food. 

That’s when I really got a look at them. Her clothes hung off her body awkwardly, as if they was far too small for the pajamas. Their hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while. Their eyes had bags and their legs shook slightly.

“I didn’t see any other food in the fridge,” I spoke softly as they began to cut the tart, “Do you need to go grocery shopping? I could go-”

“No I’m fine,” They spoke bluntly as they placed a slice of tart in front of me and began to get their own slice, “Crowley doesn’t give me food money until the end of this week. I don’t have enough to go shopping right now. Just enough for school lunches. And some tuna so I can get Grim to help out.”

“Yuu.”

They gave me my silverware and put the remaining tart in the fridge before sitting to eat their own slice, “Don’t lecture me on starving myself. That’s not what this is.”

They kept going without my prompt, “Look. I’m not used to this. It’s not so surprising that I think it’s some kind of fever dream. I’ve gone 18 years with only a few people caring if I lived or died. Now all of a sudden I come to a whole new world where that person is gone, but almost a dozen people seem to genuinely think I’m worth caring about. It's an emotional whiplash. I know I’m going to regret this but I’ve got to just get it out. I’m a horrible person. I’m not some saint like you seem to think. I’m an egotistical asshole who is a know-it-all and who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. I’m ungrateful and spoiled. I’m just an adult who has no idea what to do and then I got sucked here and I am more confused than ever. I guess it all just bubbled over.”

“Yuu,” I took a bite of my tart and swallowed before speaking again, “If that is what you think of yourself then I think it wasn’t just your environment that changed.”

“What?” Yuu stopped eating and looked up at me, “I don’t change.”

I looked at them, “Could have fooled me.”

We ate the rest of the food in silence. Yuu was far from healed, but some part of me knew that what I had seen was sacred. It was an unspoken rule. No one else gets to know what I have seen and heard today. At least, not unless Yuu was the one telling them. I made a mental note to send Ace and Deuce here to spend some time with our magicless prefect with a large bag of healthy and nourishing foods.

[crabs-with-sticks]

Hi Crabs! How about "strange is the call of this strange man" for Mara x Zev? Happy writing!

ALRIGHT SO. I really just took this prompt and ran away with it in a completely different direction. The original quote is from a song, and its about Euridice being tempted into the underworld by Hades who is promising her safety from poverty, y'know sad n tragic n all that good stuff.

I however, in all my genius, bring to you: Zevran trying to do a crow impression.

@dadrunkwriting

A Crow by Any Other Call. 479 words.

“Do you even know what a crow sounds like?”

“Of course I do mi amor! I am one after all!” They were only slightly drunk. Well, to be more precise, Mara was only slightly drunk. Zevran was one drink away from the dictionary definition of ‘plastered’. Scratch that. Half a drink.

Mara snorted, “okay, so do it again.”

Zevran cleared his throat, stopping in the middle of the pathway that led to their rented accommodation. “Okay, here goes. Hcaw! Hcaw!”

The laughter burst out of Mara’s stomach out of nowhere, enough that she saw several globules of spit fling through the air. “That is not at all what a crow sounds like Zev.”

He wobbled over to her, with what his imbibed brain likely though was a seductive smile, though it would have been more effective if he did not keep readjusting it to a look that was somehow even more ridiculous than the last one. He leaned in close and draping his arm over her shoulder (for balance even as he tried to cover that fact up), whispering right into her ear, “should I try again my dearest most loveliest Warden?”

“I have a feeling you will try no matter what I say,” she said, attempting to talk through the waves of laughter that were rocking through her.

“Mmm quite right indeed.” He leaned back, tilting his head back to crow into the sky, at first removing his arm from around her, but quickly recalculating when he began to tip backwards. He sucked in a deep breath even as Mara was spluttering with laughter next to him. “CAw-ghhh!” His impression caught in his throat and he coughed violently through the words, still attempting the impression even as his lungs betrayed him.

Mara laughed, her belly aching, and started pulling him along with her back to their rooms. “Okay, well that was somehow worse than your first three attempts!”

Zevran just looked at her with a love struck grin, and pressed a sloppy and wet kiss to her cheek, “have I ever told you how beautiful your- your- ears are!”

“Ears? That's what you’re going with?” Mara asked, her eyebrow discovering new heights.

She wasn’t sure if his brain just didn’t process her words or he just ignored them, “your ears are the perfect shape, and the- the- angel- no. The- the-.”

“The angle?”

“Yes! The angle! Perfect! Wonderful! Absolutely and truly sublime!”

Mara grinned, scrunching up her face to the favour, a kiss on his cheek, long and lips pressed hard against his skin, releasing him with a loud ‘mwah’ sound. “Compliments aren’t going to get me to say your crow impression was good you know my love.”

“Ah well, it was worth a shot,” he said. Though since Mara turned away, neither her nor any other being was able to witness the puppy dog eyes of love that Zevran gave her as he beheld the magnificence of her ear, pale against her dark hair with a simple golden earring hanging from its lobe.

[mattcraft]

Oh goodie!! Ok so-

Tango, right? Guy whos basically a Looney Tunes character irl? This guy?

When he started to make Decked Out 2, he changed his skin to this-

-and kinda became the “dungeon master” right?

What if it wasn’t just a cosmetic change. What if that was due to the Deep Frost Citadel itself.

(Cont. under the cut bc it gets Long)

As someone who loves any kind of “the thing that usually isn’t alive *is alive*” story, I am giving that treatment to the Citadel because I cannot be stopped <3

What if when the hermits arrived to season 9, the castle was already there. When Tango found it, he had asked if it belonged to anyone or if someone had built it. No one claimed it as their own, so Tango decided to move in and make it his base for the season.

He doesn’t get too far in making it his own when he starts hearing voices and whispers seemingly coming from nowhere but only existing within the Citadels walls. It’s nothing much at first but as time goes on it grows into something loud and demanding. It’s the castle itself speaking to Tango through his mind.

Someway, somehow, the Citadel gets Tango to do what it wants. It craves death and bloodshed, so it gets him to dig out and build a dungeon underneath the castle for hermits to die in over and over. He makes a deal with the castle, and disguises it as a game. A sequel to a game he made a few seasons back: Decked Out.

As he begins work on the dungeon, the hermits take notice of changes to Tango whenever he visits the shopping district for supplies that he’s running low on. The tips of his ears and his fingers start to look blue and frostbitten, and his skin feels cold to the touch. His hair, its usual fiery yellow slowly but surely turning blue, begins to stick out more than usual. Sometimes they even notice him shivering, even when it’s the middle of summer. Lots of hermits have periods of time where they go through a change of appearance of sorts, so no one decides to bring it up much, although the dedication to the look is a little worrying.

There are lengths of days to weeks to even months where the hermits don’t see Tango. Some are worried and fly to his castle to check on him, some even trying to get him out every once in a while. They know he’s working on a huge project, but it’s not entirely like him to be going mia like this so often.

As the dungeon nears completion, Tango’s transformation into the Dungeon Master is practically complete. The Citadel offered him a change of clothes to better match his new look- a set of dark robes edged with a shiny blue strip that swirl in intricate designs at the cuffs and back. When the hermits see him now- which is rare- he’s stopped shivering, his red eyes have now changed completely to blue, and sometimes you can see his breath despite it not being cold out.

When the dungeon is finished and Decked Out 2 begins it’s first phase, the Citadel couldn’t be more pleased and demands that Tango take care of the upkeep to the redstone and the monsters that live inside the depths of the castle, as well as continuing to make the dungeon better and better. The Citadel was having too much fun- there would be no way it stopped any time soon.

Some notes I’m not sure where to put either:

When the dungeon resets itself and announces that it’s ready for a new player, turns out thats the castle speaking through Tango letting everyone know it craves More. His eyes glow blue or light up with a blue flame, and his voice gets dark and gravely. This happens sporadically too btw. For fun

Tango promises to the citadel that once the season is over that others will want to play and will sacrifice themselves over many times and that the castle wont go without

The more deaths there are the more the castle ends up building itself out instead of Tango having to do it manually. Areas change, traps get more dangerous, and at one point the entirety of the Burning Dark appears and Tango uses it as incentives for the hermits

The wardens and ravagers in the dungeon are not *hostile* around Tango either, however theyre not NOT hostile, so he still has to watch his step around them. Was able to give them all collars with names on them though, and greets them when no one is running the dungeon every so often

[hauntedppgpaints]

Warden's big fic rec list!

Hey y'all. I was inspired by @simmyfrobby to type up a fic rec, so here we are! These are the fics I have bookmarked on AO3, organized and summarized for everyone. Enjoy! :)

Fics with the rarest pairings (only ones in the relationship tag!):

drivin' nowhere fast. (7810 words) by draisaitleons Rating: Explicit Relationships: Linus Ullmark/Matthew Tkachuk Summary: “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. For earlier.” Linus looks quizzically at Matthew, clearly unsure of what he means and unaware that he was there until he had spoken. That was going to make this a little more painful than Matthew had been hoping for. “For, you know, protecting my head. On the way down.” Matthew clears his throat, “At the net.”

go ahead and try a little crazy on me (4062 words) by lagerlout Rating: Explicit Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Artūrs Šilovs Additional Tags: Winner's Room Summary: Leon huffs out a laugh before he can help himself. Goddamn, this fucking goalie is cute. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to be cute but he is.

leave an imprint (on my skin) (2733 words) by cokehead_zeroed Rating: Explicit Relationships: Brad Marchand/Mitch Marner Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, Daddy Kink, Feminization Summary: Mitch does not think that this is what Cooper and Cassidy meant when they said that Team Canada should focus on finding compatibility. Instead of being able to focus on passes and shots, Mitch has found himself perpetually sniffing the air, trying to isolate this one alpha’s scent out of the two dozen ones that are present. Mitch catches sea air, pine, something like brown sugar; the smell of it is electric and intoxicating, and it’s throwing him completely off his game. It’s made even worse by the fact that their lines aren’t gelling, and he’s not sure how much of it is dealing with players and systems and line changes and how much of it is the fact that he just wants to spend the whole Olympics following this scent around.

écoutez-moi (14483 words) by hyacinthed Rating: Explicit Relationships: Mason Marchment/Morgan Rielly Summary: He stares blankly at Madison, 27, who enjoys white wine and pilates and the Blue Jays, staring until his screen shuts off and he’s left with his face reflected in the smudged glass. Things shouldn’t be this hard. Like, logically, people have been figuring out how to get laid for centuries, unaware that the Earth is round but still knowing how to get some, and now it’s 2022 and they’ve moved beyond sundials and Mason’s still scratching his head like a caveman. (Or, the one where Tinder's serving up inter-conference rivals and Mason just can't stay away.)

Fics with rare pairs (less than 20 fics in their tag):

young and new-made green (8750 words) by chevalric Rating: Explicit Relationships: Joel Farabee/Scott Laughton/Michael Raffl Additional Tags: Weird Biology, Non-Human Genitalia, Philadelphia Flyers, Dubious Frog Biology Summary: Joel is fucked, basically. As fucked as it’s possible for a frog to be, and that’s pretty frogging fucked.

Pregame Routine (4406 words) by inlovewithnight Rating: Explicit Relationships: Braden Holtby/Tom Wilson Summary: Tom's going to take care of Holts, going into game five.

Plus Minus (4784 words) by barefootstarz Rating: Teen Relationships: Sean Couturier/Evgeni Malkin Summary: This is most definitely not Romeo and Juliet, despite Sid and Claude's every effort. What it is, is two guys. That's all. Just two guys, a couple of dates, and a new relationship.

Gen fics

Problem Child (8184 words) by aleksrothis Rating: General Audiences Characters: Tyler Seguin, Tuukka Rask, Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging Summary: Tyler knows weird shit happens in hockey, okay, so he shouldn't have been surprised when he opened his hotel room door to find Looch standing there with a screaming child in his arms. “He can be your problem now,” Looch tells him, holding the child out to him. “I need a drink.”

Catch and Release (22722 words) by McSpot Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Characters: Mario Ferraro, Braden Holtby, Brenden Dillon, Brent Burns Summary: If a player gets forced onto the opposing team's bench during play, that player officially becomes a member of their team. There's a whole system to catching players, with strategies determining who the prime targets are and the best way to catch them. Nobody expected Mario to be caught.

You Got a Friend in Me (1050 words) by seascribble Rating: General Audiences Characters: Colorado Avalanche Ensemble, Erik Johnson, Nazem Kadri Summary: EJ puts a lot of work into making the new guys feel welcome, especially Naz.

and a little corner for the horror fans:

Past the Threshold (3265 words) by sevenfists Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Summary: At the other tables, their teammates talked and ate, laughed, rubbed their eyes, yawned, sipped coffee, were alive. Everything was normal. It was a normal morning before practice. Sid was going to dinner with Geno that evening, and after that he’d probably get laid. Tomorrow they’d play the Jets. Everything was fine. “I hate fucking Winnipeg,” Sid said. Geno grinned. “Yes, same.”

A Voice Behind Me Beckons (3342 words) by CaseyJuTardis Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Marc-Andre Fleury, Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang Additional Tags: Horror, Body Horror, Supernatural Elements, Cannibalism, Psychological Horror Summary: There’s no real way to know when it all started. It was first noticed with Flower, but how far back does it go? How long has this curse been passed from person to person, draining life until all that’s left is the all-consuming hunger? No one knows. This thing- this insidious, cloying curse- is ancient. Ever-present but unseen. Like a disease. Or a predator, lying in wait.

[without-school-or-style]

05 - Stamp

Word Count: 711

((Tyr Aldsvider belongs to @asphaltvalkyrie. Please follow her at @the-wardens-torch as well and support her writing! Also, no card for this entry since I changed the idea at the last minute. I plan to write the old idea for another prompt sometime.))

Stacks of letters now parcelled in envelopes and piled neatly at the corner of his desk, Joey crossed another name off the list of his letter writing endeavours. Just one more letter and his task will be complete for the month.

This name was just for Joey’s nostalgia, and his nostalgia alone.

Pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment, Joey took a pause and closed his eyes to envision the recipient’s face from his memories to his mind.

Tyr Aldsvider, one of the first friends he made since Joey lived in the world of Rune Midgard. Blue-hair framed his soft facial features with a pair of devil wings grafted to the back of his ears, Tyr always had that kind of natural sadness to him that made people want to protect him. However Joey knew that Tyr and his fantastic skills with a bow rivalled even the most talented archers and bards of this realm. Naturally, Joey had a hard time envisioning Tyr by himself, as the image of the ranger soon became accompanied by his larger than life warg, Hrimfaxi.

Joey wondered how Tyr was doing. Was he still travelling the world? Finding interesting sights to see? Handmade trinkets to make? Finding people who wouldn’t let his hunting skills to go rest?

But Tyr was in Rune Midgard and Joey now in Eorzea—another world, another dimension. Still, Joey and his burning nostalgia couldn’t help but want to write a letter to his old friend.

Hey, Tyr. How are things? Are you and Hrimfaxi doing well? How much time has passed since I sent my last letter?

Joey asked that to ascertain differences in the passage of time more than a lack of diligence at writing back.

As for me, this may sound hard to believe, but I am in another dimension—a world named Eorzea. It’s a long story as to why and how I got here; however, now that my mission is over, I’ve settled down here and have had many adventures.

Joey paused before continuing. He thought of telling Tyr about said adventurers, but even summarizing them would become a novel in itself. Joey thought to just stick to the facts.

One of the city-states is called Gridania. I think you will like it here. Gridania is surrounded by forest and nature—the woods are so vast, I might not ever see you again! There’s even an archer guild here, as well as a conjurer guild for those who heal others and commune with nature spirits.

Also, you may be interested to know that Eorzea has a prominent crafting and gathering guilds and a robust trade economy. Perhaps you may even be interested in botany and leatherworking. As for myself, I specialize in culinary endeavours, although I’m nowhere near as good as my friend and travelling companion, Lavender Helltear. She’s an amazing chef and I’m her sous-chef. Perhaps if we see each other again, I can show you all the recipes I’ve amassed during my journeys.

He paused. Was he babbling too much? Should he tell Tyr other things such as how he had taught himself different schools of magic, or how he went to the end of the universe to save his friend?

Right now I’m working part-time at a store named Fortunes & Fancies. We specialize in fortunes, forecasts and lucky charms, and also handmade grimoires and inks. Every time I make ink, I think of you and how you keep your own ink and quill on-hand. I enclosed a vial of our own store-made ink and a small sample of our own notebook line, all made from sustainable sources. I hope you like it.

 Let me know how things are going with you.  Hope to meet you sometime.

- Joey

He sealed the package, addressed to him on the outside and wrote Tyr’s name at the top corner. He sighed, smiling a little sadly at how he missed his friend. Perhaps if time and space allowed, he really could visit Rune Midgard once more.

Just for fun, Joey sent the package to Tyr alongside his other letters to the postmoogle. The viera fully expected at least the box addressed to Tyr to return in his return to sender box.

To Joey’s surprise, the box never returned.

[folksaga-if]

“It is a long story, and it does no credit to anyone: there is murder in it, and trickery, lies and foolishness, seduction and pursuit.                                                                                           Listen."

                               - Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology

You are a human. A totally normal one.

Honestly.

You’re a human. You’re a bartender, which is a very normal job for a human to have, and when you walk down the winding streets of Akureyri you can blend seamlessly into any crowd of people which is, without question, only something that a human could do.

The fact that you came here two years ago with nothing but the clothing on your back doesn’t mean anything; you’re hardly northern Iceland’s first wayfaring soul. That you had no money to your name, no friends or family to speak of — that’s a fairly average human thing, too. And that little craving you have, that quiet urge to dig your teeth into any passing stranger’s throat? It's completely, entirely mundane.

It’s manageable. You’re managing.

Or you were, until someone — someone who's decidedly not as good at this human thing as you are — begins leaving a trail of dead bodies at your doorstep, and a trio of god-like siblings take a seat at your bar.

(Ragnarök might have marked the end of the Norns, but that doesn't mean your fate died along with them.)

MAGNI THORSON .

No doubt the mightiest of his siblings, the eldest child of Thor is exactly the sort of person you would expect him to be: a giant (half-giant, in fact) asshole with a smoulder and a knife-sharp jawline to match. He’ll match your every word with a cocky grin and a joke that’s nowhere near as funny as he thinks, and he’ll look every inch the prince that he is all the while.

(Well, the prince that he was. Just don’t let him hear you say that.)

MODI THORSON .

For the supposed embodiment of his father’s wrath, the God of Thunder’s second son is surprisingly…not that. He’s no picnic, mind you — he’s broody, he’s secretive, and he's fucking intense, but that hardly equates to fury incarnate. You’re sure there’s something hiding under that moody surface; whether or not you want to uncover it is a different story entirely.

(Looks like even gods aren’t immune to middle-child syndrome. Who knew?)

THRÚD THORSDÓTTIR .

Valkyrie, seidhr, paragon of strength — with all of her mother’s best traits (and a few of her father’s worst), is it any wonder that Thor’s youngest child was also his favourite? Smarter than her half-brothers and more likeable by a longshot, you might find yourself forgetting how easily the fortune-telling goddess could break you in two. You might, but she’ll be happy to remind you if you do.

(Maybe a little too happy, in fact.)

KATLA B̶͍̏L̸̝͑O̵̟͠M̴̳̓Q̴̯̔V̵̺͆I̷̗͛S̵̠͒T̸̬̒ .

A fellow nomad and your coworker at Black Thunder, the first friend you made in Akureyri has remained your closest. Mischevious, magnetic, and often up to no small amount of trouble, there are times when you think you might know Katla better than you know yourself. You even know about her…well, you know that she…sorry, what were you talking about again?

(It's just that it’s nice, being close to someone who’s so very human.)

THE MARE .

There’s a voice in your head and a shadow in your dreams, and they’re telling you to run. You probably shouldn’t trust them.

(…Right?)

Customize your monster character. New life, new you! Choose your gender identity, change your name, cut your hair, and remember: if you’re starting to grow tired of running from your past, try on a new outfit and start running faster.

Play as one of three runway creatures from Norse mythology — a cunning keeper of the forest, a charming warden of the lake, or a formidable guardian of the mountains. Each has its quirks (would you prefer a hollowed-out tree for a back, or webbed fingers and forearms covered in scales?), but they all have two key things in common: they’ll kill to protect their homes, and you’re definitely not one of them.

Choose your own fate, out of the countless that are presented to you. Had oatmeal instead of skyr with your breakfast this morning? You might have just brought about Ragnarök 2.0. Nice one, asshole.

Multiple romance options, with each available to pursue regardless of your gender or background. Ever wanted to kiss a god under a starry sky? Now's your chance! Or maybe you’re through with immortal beings and desperate to ask the pretty server on a date? Go for it! She’s definitely a human too. Totally. You’d be able to tell if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t you?

Save the world — or don’t. It's your choice, and isn't that what true freedom is all about?

Folksaga is inspired by The Edda, Norse mythology, and Twin Peaks, with a bit of tweaking to the myths as needed for the sake of plot. MC backgrounds have been adjusted to fit for all players regardless of gender identity, and creative liberty has been taken with some smaller points for a smoother storytelling experience. All changes will be explained in an FAQ post (too be added in the links below ASAP!)

The current demo consists of the prologue (introductory lore + character creation), which is about 20k words. I plan to post it in the next few weeks, after some edits + the completion of chapter one!

I expect it to be somewhere in the range of 600,000 to 700,000 words, but this is subject to change (and likely will due to my propensity for rambling text. oops.).

I’ve written  short and long-form original fiction as well as a lot of fanfic (say hello @ pentaghastly on AO3, and @kendallroynsfw on tumblr!), but this is my first IF! Bugs and coding issues may appear in the demo; please let me know if any issues arise during your playthroughs.

Folksaga is a work in progress. I would love constructive feedback when the demo is posted, as well as any bugs or grammar issues to be brought to my attention if I've missed them :) I would also love patience, because I'm a full time health care worker who gets sleepy lots xoxo

A Swedish farmer named Sven Andersson was executed in 1691 for having intercourse with a mountain nymph, or bergsrå. I will neither confirm or deny if his Wikipedia article was the inspiration for this IF, except I will confirm it and it definitely was.

MC ORIGINS | RO INTROS | demo coming soon!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt.18

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Rhaegar POV, canon character death

Words: 2195

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Green flames erupted in the distance making the soldiers murmur loudly as explosions went off one after another. The entirety of the King’s Woods were being consumed in a rapid amount of time.

“Is that. . .”

An outcry of disbelief as it dawned on the army what those green flames were. “Aerys has truly lost his mind!”

Gods. . . It was wildfire.

Ned was near ready to rush in that direction before Robert wraps his arms around him, trapping him against his barrel chest. “No Ned!”

“They’re in there! Brandon and my father! I have to help them!” Snarling like the direwolf on his chest, Ned struggles against Robert’s grip. “Let me go!” The remaining northmen that didn’t go with Rickard and Brandon were equally as nervous about the welfare of their lord and warden.

“That’s not going to happen.” Robert had always been stronger than Ned and he used that to his complete advantage at the moment. “You’ll be dead the moment that shit touches you.”

“They could still be alive.” He doubted his own words, but kArthur held the hope that at least some of the northern men sent out were alive.

Within seconds the wildfire spread over two acres of land and was threatening to cut off Rhaegar’s path to King’s Landing.

Oberyn spits on the ground and glares. “We’re going to have to retreat until this damned fire loses energy.”

“Damn him.” Hisses Griff atop his chestnut horse. He releases the reins in order to throw off his helmet. “If it’s still going by tomorrow Tumbleton could be in danger.”

“What should we do, Your Grace?”

There was absolutely no way in them advancing any further. Not until the wildfire was extinguished.

“For now we switch objectives. Protect the surrounding area and halt the wildfire as much as we can. It can’t go on forever.” Rhaegar shouts out to his troops. “We’ll need sand and lots of it!!”

Brandon couldn’t see out of his right eye as men in black and red dragged him in front of the menacing Iron Throne where Aerys sat. There was so much blood pooling in his mouth that it threatened to drown him if he didn’t spit it out on the ground. Next to him his father Rickard was aggressively shoved to his knees as the Warden of the North glared at Aerys.

Dirty tricks and an ambush had nearly decimated the northern scouts that were sent ahead of everyone else. When the wildfire had first ignited in front of them, Brandon and Rickard were immediately overwhelmed by Aerys’ men who came out of nowhere. To be killed by the Mad King’s soldiers or by wildfire was a tough choice to make. Instead they were taken captive and separated from the rest of their burning comrades. Needless to say that wasn’t an easy task for anyone to accomplish. Rickard Stark was a bear of a man like many from his part of Westeros. Even more difficult when they tried to go after Brandon. Each Stark man put up a good fight that would be worthy of ballads. It was the wildfire that cornered them, spreading faster than any deadly disease. Within minutes, the whole entire area was a sea of green.

“The traitor Lord Stark.” Sneers Aerys as he leaned forward. From where Brandon was, he couldn’t see the lines of blood on the tyrant king’s hands as he accidentally brushed up against his own, sharp, throne. Even Aerys’ own throne no longer wanted him seated there.

Thick, dignified brows grimace in reply as Rickard Stark finally caught his breath. “If it means getting you off of the throne, so be it. I can no longer serve someone like you.”

“So you put in your resignation as Warden of the North.”

“No. There will be no need of Warden of the North. I hereby remove the north from the Seven Kingdoms.”

Rickard’s sincere statement had Aerys silent for a few seconds before he breaks out in laughter. “Awfully presumptuous of you to think you have that kind of power. Torrhen Stark gave up the north to Aegon. He swore fealty and gave up his title as king.” Everyone knew the history of Aegon the Conqueror. It was drilled into all Westerosi children.

Aegon was the one who brought all of Westeros together. United them so that they wouldn’t squabble over land.

Such cold and domineering gray eyes did not flinch at the reminder. They remained full of hate and resentment. “Usurper. This land will always belong to the descendants of the First Men.”

That snapped Aerys out of his snickering. Brandon knew there would be no good outcome. There was only the end. As the Kingsguard dragged Rickard forward, affixing a long chain to his back, Brandon heard himself scream but he was thinking about his siblings. He would never see Ned or Benjen grow into true men. Never get to see Lyanna’s children with Robert Baratheon. Never get to see what his life would be like with Catelyn. Suspended now from the rafters, Rickard still fought even when pyromancers lit a fire beneath his dangling body. Being slowly cooked to death in his own armor, Rickard didn’t cry out in pain. The smell of burning flesh was enough to make Brandon barf had he not been so concerned with getting himself free.

The curse that Rickard bellowed was enough to strike fear into anyone present. “Let your bloody Stranger take you!!”

Brandon howled for vengeance, his grief making him claw at his binds in a frenzy. His sword was mere inches away but a length of rope was hastily wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t see who was holding the other end of his noose as he now strained his fingers for his sword pommel. If only he could dislocate them and make them longer. That little boy inside of him prayed to the Old Gods to help him. But her forgot that the Old Gods held no domain in King’s Landing. There was only one weirwood tree and it was far from him. All of his prayers escaped him through bitter tears and spit that started to accumulate on his beat up lip.

His vision was growing dark as more pressure is applied to his neck. These heathens. They would not honor him with a warrior’s death.

He couldn’t breathe.

The last person he saw before his last attempt at life was Varys hiding away behind a column. Pale white with horror at the scene that was playing out. If there was any sort of justice left in this world, Brandon hoped that Varys would truly aid to the downfall of Aerys.

If it turned out that the Spider was deceiving them, well, Brandon would make sure to haunt him for all of eternity.

“Your Grace! We found survivors!”

Never was Ned quick enough to be hopeful, but immediately he sprung from where he was helping the others make a barricade composed of bags of sand. Even some local villagers came to help them. Everyone seemed to freeze in their actions, awaiting with bated breath at some good news.

Wounded and severely charred men were brought back. Some were so horrendously burned that it was hard to look their way. The more squeamish men had to hold back their sick.

Right away, Ned noticed a very familiar raven feathered cloak. Lord Blackwood. Tytos Blackwood, still conscious, caught Ned’s eyes. He beckons Ned closer to where he was laid.

Dropping to one knee, Ned had to suppress the panic in his voice. “Lord Blackwood. . . my father. . .”

The grimness in his eyes told Ned everything he needed to know. Men behind him whispered of how there was no sign of the Lord of Winterfell and his heir. If they weren’t killed by the wildfire, then. . .

“They had to have been captured.” Came Rhaegar, a towering shadow in his black armor.

It would have been better if Rickard and Brandon were killed by the wildfire. If they were captives of Aerys, they would be dead soon enough. It was an unspoken truth that even Ned knew. His father and brother were dead.

An appropriate silence held them there.

Tytos was the one to interrupt it with a cough. “Lord Stark.”

Robert glanced at his childhood friend, the man that he considered his brother. He was now the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Robert understood better than anyone what it was like to have such a title thrust upon you in a quick second. As soon as the news of his parents reached him, he was regarded as the Lord of Storm’s end immediately. A daunting situation that Ned had to face right now.

Helplessly he looks at Rhaegar. “I’m sorry. I must return to the north. . . They need me now. I need to-”

A hand on his shoulder, Rhaegar nods. “I understand. Do what you must.”

The shock that Ned felt at Rhaegar allowing him to leave so easily was soon replaced by immense gratitude as he knelt before him.

“Rise, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Rhaegar instructed him. He obeyed, lifting himself to come face to face with a man he vowed to repay one day.

Letting Ned depart to prepare for his journey back home, Griff turns on Rhaegar. “How could you let him go? He’ll be taking the northern army with him!”

“Either way we can’t advance any further.” His Silver Prince sighs and removes the gloves from his hands. “My father has officially cut us off and has bought himself some time. An extreme measure but it worked.”

His red hair may have had something to do with his outburst, Griff presses. “We have the Dornishmen, the men of the Stormlands AND Tywin’s men if he keeps to his word.”

“Look around you Griff. How on earth could we possibly continue? Patience is a virtue. Right now we help those that my father has put at risk thanks to his tactic.”

“He can sneak up on us just like he did with Lord Rickard.”Countered Griff, and it was equally true. Aerys wasn’t playing by any rules. He would attack as he saw fit. As long as it destroyed Rhaegar. Rhaegar refused to let this war kill his humanity though.

“Ned Stark will be back.” He replied assuredly. “When the time is right, he will come back. And our army will have been better for it. (y/n) once told me how she and her handmaid found a baby bird. They nursed it back to health but it was still not ready to fly. It took 2 weeks before it was ready to open its wings and fly. Things take time Griff. Either way I can’t prevent my father for doing whatever he does in the future. But I can make myself ready in the meantime and prepare for him. He’s also ruined himself for the time being. Thanks to him cutting off the main road with wildfire, it’ll take days for the roads to clear and for supplies and news to enter King’s Landing. Any raven we see, we capture it and make sure it’s not for Aerys.”

“You place a great deal of faith in this plan based on a little bird?” It was ridiculous to listen to him any further. But Griff melted a little when a wistful expression makes Rhaegar smile sadly back. The scar that ran diagonally across his face did little to ruin his beautiful features.

Rhaegar turned back to examining the green wildfire. “I was there. Her maesters told her to just leave it. (y/n) couldn’t bring herself to. She spent so long tending to it. Everyone discouraged her and told her that it would die soon. She never gave up on it though. The bird did come back the following year. It never forgot about (y/n) and the kindness she showed. Do you know what it brought back for her from it’s travels?”

Griff shook his head. He never bothered to learn anything about Rhaegar’s wife.

Pressing the heel of his palms together, it made the shape of a clam when his fingers also touched. “It was an oyster. And inside-” He pulled his fingers open “-there were pearls. Patience and determination will eventually pay off. (y/n) taught me that.” Reaching through the neck of his armor, he retrieves a leather pouch and pours out the contents into his hand. Five pearls gleamed up at Griff.

Dumbly, Jon Connington states “She gave them to you.”

“I’m not losing faith. Quite the opposite Griff. What my father doesn’t know is that I want the throne more than he will ever. I want the throne to avenge my (y/n). Being a better king than Aerys will right all the wrongs he has done to people.”

Pursing his lips he thought back to the girl that had his prince still ever enamored. It had been more than a year since (y/n)’s murder and Rhaegar’s love never wavered. Griff doubted that he could love anyone else. A shame for Princess Elia Martell.

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[bwibwiko]

˗ˏˋ Yandere/Dark fic recs ˎˊ˗

WARNING: minors do not interact!

note: random fandoms, mostly reader/SI/OC stories. 

“ao3″

➸ Rotten seeds by cyanspade

Fandom: FE:3H Pairing: Dimitri/F!Byleth

Consumed by grief over Dimitri’s miserable end at Gronder Field, Byleth musters the last of her power to go back in time to his childhood and prevent the tragedies that befall him all throughout his life.  Unbeknownst to her, Dimitri still has a darkness innate to him—only this time, he’s hell-bent on making his beloved tutor Byleth his and his alone.

➸ At the End of the World  by cyanspade

Fandom: FE:3H Pairing: Dimitri/F!Byleth

After defecting from the Empire, Byleth finds her way to Dimitri’s war council, and later on, his bed. She discovers she’s pregnant with Dimitri’s baby and takes a page from the Jeralt Eisner playbook—she fakes her death and runs away to protect the baby from the threats posed by every side in the war.   Years later, Dimitri finds them.

➸ Defiant by Lovernia

Fandom: MHA/BNHA Pairing: Aizawa/OC

Kai never fit the idea of how an omega should be - being meek, adorable, and domestic weeded out by those who would readily take advantage of it. How surprising that she’d grown up rude, tenacious, and unbound.  Despite her secondary gender being her one true burden, the source of her lack of choices, the warden of her internal prison, she couldn’t complain about how life turned out for her. She was employed as an express delivery girl, using her Quirk to rival anyone in their line of work, alongside her best friend and under a supervisor who didn’t seem to be fed up with her antics yet.

➸ Birds of a Feather by Elielephant

Fandom: MHA/BNHA Pairing: Keigo/OC

She was just the typical run-of-the-mill gal that was down on her luck. Though, her life takes a drastic turn when she was almost flattened like a pancake by a semi truck barreling from the sky and saved by the Nation’s No.2 Hero: Hawks. Now she is riddled with misfortune and it’s driving her clearly insane until she figures out who is causing all the pain. Then she is terrified for her life.

➸ Wish by Chickeninthebathtub

Fandom: MHA/BNHA Pairing: Various/OC

In which the reader has a quirk that allows her to grant everyone's wishes, and izuku takes advantage of that fact.

➸  everything's the same (definition of insane) by  Neleothesze

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Obito/OC

"Something went wrong when transferring Hotaru's neural impulses into the newest iMind.Mind mapping technology had advanced by leaps and bounds and, yielding to her grandkids' pleas, sixty-four year old Kita Hotaru had finally signed the documents and set a date for the procedure. On the morning of the 2nd of June, in a small hospital bed, the anesthetic lulled mrs Kita to sleep. The wakeup was far more painful and sudden, a tiny body dropping in the middle of a dirt road. "Reality isn't a creation of the mind. And yet here she is, sixty-four going on ten, forever young in a world where the young are the first to die.

➸  An Accomplice to Sin by CarnaReade

Fandom: Hellsing Pairing: Alucard/Reader

What would you do if a monster decides you are the perfect accomplice to uplift his boredom?

➸ Star-Crossed Obsession by Yanderes_and_Other_Poor_Life_Choices

Fandom: Hellsing Pairing: Alucard/Reader

All magic comes with consequences, and you, a time-travelling witch who accidentally rewrote history while trying to complete a university assignment, will learn that.

➸ the devil’s addiction by ULS

Fandom: Demon Slayer Pairing: Muzan/Reader 

The world you walk on is damned. Not to mention when the moon rises, demons come out. It’s Hell. These creatures out of nowhere hunt for humans, especially rare bloods like yourself. As an acquaintance of suffering, you grow dreaded over their existence, spending your entire life hiding, avoiding them every time the sun disappears from the sky. And during those days of lying low, you tried to save a stranger from being eaten by a demon, and after that, everything changed. Despite trying to live a quiet life, it led you to a point from saving someone’s life to encountering a young demon with strange letters engraved to one of his eye. A diligent child following orders from his master, who later on is intrigued by your existence. Little did you know, that so-called master, is the progenitor of demons himself.

➸ Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by lakeffect

Fandom: JJBA Pairing: Giorno/Reader

Don Giovanna sets his sights on a beloved local school teacher.

➸ Dio Brando Wants a Quiet Life by spaceliquid

Fandom: JJBA Pairing: Dio/F!Jonathan  

 All Dio Brando wanted was the world, but he would settle for a quiet life with Joanna Joestar and their son. Maybe.

“quotev”

➸ the martyrdom of a final girl by MAI

Fandom: none Pairing: various!yandere/reader 

Halloween night you're transported into a cult classic slasher film, but unfortunately you can't seem to recall the plot. Your only leverage is that everyone sees you as the dumb best friend to the golden final girl.

➸ steel on glass by dior

Fandom: none Pairing: figure skater!yandere/reader  

You're a world-class classical pianist, and you've been given the task of composing an original piece for the greatest figure skater to ever grace the history of the sport. He's everything the world adores, but the only adoration he seeks is yours.

➸ broken sun by dior

Fandom: none Pairing: various!cyberpunk/reader  

Under the artificial sky of Saturn, you meet the creation of the century. He is the catalyst of annihilation, and you are the legacy of chaos theory, the butterfly effect personified.

➸ Lady Out of Time by fate

Fandom: none Pairing: yandere/time-traveller!reader   

Genius, billionaire, and unbearably bored. As the CEO of L/n Industries, you didn’t think you'd have time to be bored, yet here you are, on a forced vacation because “overworking kills”. A week into your exile, you saw a shooting star and wished for the adventure of a lifetime as a break from your exhausting routine. Unbeknownst to you, a man from nearly 200 years ago had also made a wish on that exact same star. You got your adventure alright, but how will society react to a woman out of time?

➸ No by Goddess Death

Fandom: none Pairing: mafia!yandere/reader

No. The word is simple, yet powerful. In case of love, in case of rejection, some can accept the ‘no’ word. Unfortunately, some don't. They can't. They won't. That's when hell breaks loose. Human turns to monster. Life gets ruined.

➸ Cutthroat by RainbowsNSmiles

Fandom: none Pairing: mafia!yandere/reader

“I can’t help it.”

more to come...