#his strange gender has captivated me

[synthbug]

LITERALLY I know what you are.

[trashcanfanfics]

might I request some headcanons for ford (young and old) w/ a reader who’s a witch (like from the boiling isles) and has their own place in the woods? they’re known as the witch of the woods and there are stories from local teens about how they’ll “steal your bones if you get too close to their house,” but they’re actually really nice and will make you lunch if you stop by.

please, and thank you 🔮

Man, do I love this idea!! I immediately started thinking of a little ficlet/imagine/scenario

Reader gender not mentioned, could be any gender

This turned out longer than I thought it would

I'd exiled myself to earth a bit ago in response to the ban on wild witches. It was easier for me to leave than to fight back then. I could probably go back anytime, but I'd rather not be forced to pick one coven.

It wasn't all bad here. The rain didn't burn, plants didn't move on their own or try to eat me. I loved the green color of the landscape and my palisman, Gretch, enjoyed the fresh air. The locals were friendly enough, and the children were curious.

I'd noticed that they were wary of me and my strange abilities. To combat this, I'd just make warm beverages and small meals for anyone traveling farther into the woods near my little cabin.

It was on my way home from the human store that I met him. A man stuck in the root of a tree. One of mine, unfortunately. In a moment of homesickness, I'd planted a seed from the Boiling Isles near my home, and this particular one was a grasping willow. A sigh escaped me, loud enough for my surprise captive to hear. He turned towards me, seeming to forget his foot was stuck, causing him to fall over. The man winced.

"I'm sorry for my tree, sir." I swirled my pointer finger into a circle of green. The root lifted and moved from his ankle. "He's just a bit playful." I set my bags down to offer him my hand. He hesitated, looking at my hand before reaching up and taking the offered help. Once he was up, I shook his hand with a smile and introduced myself.

"Nice to meet you," he quickly took his hand back and cleared his throat, "my name is Stanford Pines, though people call me Ford."

"Wonderful to meet you, Ford." I picked my bags back up and faced him again. "I have groceries to put away, so I have to go. Try walking in a wide circle to avoid Snipper if you're walking around here."

"Oh, uh, thank you for the advice." He waved awkwardly and turned to leave. I chuckled slightly and went on my own way. Gretch sniffed the air in his direction before hiding back into my cloak. They whispered to me about the stranger's smell as I walked back home.

~*~

Ford came around more often after that. He asked many questions, and I answered. I asked fewer questions but received more answers. He was eager to talk and learn, and I was grateful for the company. Ford became a part of my routine in the best way. We'd meet up for lunch at either mine or his cabin and tell me what he's found. His theories enthralled me. I'd developed quite the soft spot for him and missed him when he wasn't around. My palisman teased me endlessly about it, but stopped once I'd mention how they liked to curl up on his lap as he talked.

He'd started coming around less and less. I wondered what new oddity he was occupied with to take up all his time. Gretch had been keeping watch over him and hadn't seen much since they couldn't get into the cabin. Whenever he did visit, he was...distant. There were bags beneath his eyes, an erratic fear, and paranoia took over his voice, even when it was just a whisper. I was worried and told him as such. He'd stood abruptly from the living room couch, making poor Gretch leap to the floor, and looked at me for the first time in months.

"There's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine, everything's fine!" His eye twitched. I blinked a few times in shock at his outburst. My hands flew up in a placating manner.

"Okay, okay," I lowered my hands and held them out to him palm up, "how about I make you your favorite tea, hm?" His eyes lowered to my hands before placing his own in them. I gently squeezed his hands for exactly six seconds before standing up and leading him to the kitchen. He followed me as I moved around to make the tea. Gretch stayed close to him, attempting to comfort him. The kettle boiled and I pulled it off before the whistle blew. We both watched the tea steep for a few seconds before Ford wrapped me in a hug from behind. His head rested against me as he shook.

~*~

"I think...I think I did something very bad, and you won't forgive me." His voice cracked. I looked up from the soup I was serving to look at him. He was looking at his hands.

"I suppose that's a valid concern. Although, I can't say whether I would or wouldn't if I don't know what it is." I set the ladle down and grabbed the tray holding the bowls. "For what it's worth, there is very little you can do that I wouldn't be able to forgive." I set the tray on the table and set a bowl in front of him, then Gretch's, before sitting down my with my own.

"I..." He stared at the soup. "I care for you deeply, and I don't want you to be mixed up in my mistakes." His eyes were tired when they looked at me. My breath caught in my chest as I stared back. My palisman stopped slurping to to look up at both me and Ford.

"Is that what you're asking me to forgive? You caring deeply for me?" I looked down at my own soup, stirring it slightly. My heart raced as his words filled my mind. "If that's a thing in need of forgiveness, then I beg for yours in return." I look back at him with a small smile. His brow furrowed.

"That's not the point I'm making." Ford ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his forehead. "I've made a mistake that could put you in danger. Out of everything that's happened to me, you've been the best. I don't want to lose you." He pulled out a book from his bag. One of his journals. He slid the book over to me. Gretch leaned over the tray to sniff it before recoiling. I blinked and looked at him.

"Ford, what--" I was cut off by him rounding the table and kneeling beside me. He grabbed my hands in both of his and looked me in the eye, more serious than he'd ever been with me. Gretch, wanting a better view, crawled over the table to be beside me.

"Take this journal and hide it. Take it as far from here as possible. Go and never come back. Please." His voice trembled. "I don't want him to get you."

"Who? Who is going to get me? What aren't you telling me?" I pulled my hands from his to hold his face, tears brimming my eyes. "Ford, tell me what's going on, why do I have to leave? What will happen to you once I do?" Tears poured down my face as I bit back a sob. I'd been so worried about him, about why he'd been so distant. Then he was asking me to leave. Leave Gravity Falls, my home, the only person besides my palisman I trusted fully with all my heart. I didn't want to go.

"I can't tell you. Please, believe me, it's safer this way." Ford reached for my face, eyes flitting back between my own. He leaned in and kissed me softly, barely a whisper on my lips. My eyes shut, allowing more tears to fall. I pushed into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and deepened the kiss.

"I can't leave you." I said against his lips as we both pulled back slightly. I kissed him again. "I can't leave you, Ford." Our foreheads were pressed against each other.

"You have to." He pulled away and stood up. He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Gretch chased after him immediately. I watched him go for a second, tears still falling down my face, before grabbing the book, and running after him. Grabbing the strap of his bag, I pulled him back.

"If you're going, then take this with you. I won't be part of something i don't know about." I shoved the book into his chest and glared at him through my tears. He looked at the book and then me before steeling his gaze. He shoved the book back into his bag and left. The front door closed, and I made my way back to the kitchen, Gretch following sadly behind. The soup had gone cold.

~*~

We hadn't spoken in a month. Four weeks. Thirty days. I went to his cabin to see him but his friend, Fiddleford McGucket, was on his way out and warned me to stay away from Ford.

"For your own sake." He said, rushing to his truck, bags in tow. "He's gone insane." I'd still knocked on his door for the next week. No reply. Gretch continued to keep an eye out and told me whatever they deemed relevant.

The next three I wallowed in my grief. Moping around the house, not taking care of my plants, or myself. I could barely brush my teeth or eat. My body odor followed me like a cloud. Days blurred together. Gretch tried to help me, but they were just as upset. Eventually, I had to go out to get more groceries.

On the way to the store, in my sweatpants, hooded sweater and muddy boots, I passed by Ford's cabin flying low to the ground on Gretch. As I looked towards it, my heart clenching painfully, the trees began to shake. I looked around in confusion as Gretch and I slowed to a stop. Then back to the cabin. The basement windows lit up a bright blue. Before I could stop myself, I flew straight towards the door, using my magic to unlock it. Bursting into the foyer, down the steps to the basement, I saw two figures.

There was Ford and someone else who looked like him. Stanley, his twin brother. Ford had told me about him. Ford was floating in the air, waving his limbs around, trying not to get pulled into a giant machine glowing with the light I'd seen outside.

"Ford!" I yelled, running to help him. Gretch almost reached him as he screamed his brother's name. He was sucked into the portal faster than I could cast a spell. "FORD!" I fell to my knees in front of the portal, next to where Stanley was standing. He was gone. My tears became my closest friends in the past weeks. These ones felt different. They hurt more, like daggers down my cheeks. He was gone. My friend, the one I adored and trusted the most. Gone. I sobbed out his name again, looking at the ground, Getch placed their head into my lap.

"Uh, are you...Did you...know my brother?" The voice made me jump. I turned to Stanley. I'd forgotten he was here in my anguish. I sniffed and wiped my face on my sleeve.

"Yes. He was my friend."

~*~

Ford had been gone for 30 years. After he'd been taken through the portal, Stan and I began a sort of friendship. He was brash and rude, his voice was gruff. He was different from Ford in so many ways, but so similar. Our friendship wasn't like the one with Ford. It was less lunch dates and more I'd bring him meals and take him shopping.

He'd convinced a crowd of shoppers that he was the mysterious scientist in the cabin while he was shopping by himself one day. I'd gotten very angry at him and refused to talk to him for a week after that. Eventually, I came around to it, realizing that he does need to make money somehow.

In time, the "Mystery Shack", as Stan called it, became quite profitable. People were attracted to its unbelievable aura. Personally, I found most of Stan's grotesque attractions to feel like home. I'd known someone who looked like the "Eyeball with Legs" back in the Boiling Isles. Gretch was glad Stan never asked them to be an exhibit. Sometimes, I feel as though Stan took inspiration from my stories.

It was summer when the twins came to Gravity Falls. Stan told me I wasn't allowed to do magic or talk to them about the strangeness in our little town. I told him that I wasn't going to hide who I was from anyone, and if he had a problem with it, don't let them go out by my cabin. We had a heated argument about that. I had resolved to not speak, or even go looking for him or anyone from the Shack that whole summer.

Of course, that didn't stop them from looking for me. Apparently, Ford had written about me in his third journal, and Dipper had stumbled across it. It lead them both to my doorstep with a gentle knock on the door.

"Hello?" As I opened the door, I saw two children, tweens, it seemed. The girl was holding a video camera at my face. "Oh!" They looked familiar almost.

"Uh, hi, uh..." The boy ruffled through a familiar book. I realized then who I must've been talking to. This must be Dipper and Mabel. The Pines' genetics must have been strong, they looked just like their great uncles. "Are you the witch of the woods?" His question made me laugh slightly. Gretch poked their head out the door to sniff at the children, causing the girl to gasp and coo at them, holding a hand out. I debated telling them both to leave, but it had been a while since I'd had company. Besides, it was getting a bit dark, and the woods were dangerous for children to go out into.

"That's what the townsfolk call me, yes." I gestured for them to come inside. "Would you like some tea?" The girl quickly came in with an excited smile. She was already petting and baby-talking Gretch. I chuckled.

"Oh, you're so cute! What's your name?" She looked around my living room and gasped. "I love your curtains!" She raced over to touch them before her brother stopped her, scolding her in a hushed tone. I smiled at them before going into the kitchen with Gretch in tow. They followed soon after.

"I'm not going to eat you, despite what the other children might say." I grabbed three tea cups and started the stove. "I don't do much other than tend to my plants and feed hikers that come by." I placed teabags into a teapot.

"So you're...not a witch?" The boy asked. I laughed again and ushered them to sit at the table. The girl gasped at the center piece. A lovely potted plant of flowers Ford had gifted me a long time ago. They were spring flowers, so they had stopped blooming. I smiled fondly at them.

"What kind of plant is this?" She touched the leaves gently. "It's so pretty."

"They're called shooting stars." I swirled my pointer finger in a green circle, causing the flowers to glow green as well and bloom. Gretch sniffed them, then sneezed. "They're normally a spring flower, but I'm able to keep them going with the sunroof in place and a bit of magic.

"So you are a witch!" The boy yelled. The kettle whistled and I quickly went to stop it. "This is incredible! Mabel! Did you catch that on video?" His sister, Mabel, looked at the camera, which had been placed facing away from the plant, towards a window.

"Whoops." She fixed the camera to face the flowers, which had ceased glowing and sat, bloomed, but otherwise non magical. He groaned in frustration and looked at me.

"Would you do that again? For the camera?" He gestured to the technology. I finished making the tea and brought it over, giving them each a cup.

"I would," I sat down in my own chair, "but the flowers are already bloomed, dear." I took a sip and set it back down. Looking at him with a small smile full of humor. Gretch huffed in their form of laughter. Ford had always called me a smart ass.

"Darnit!" He put his head on the table. Mabel reached over and patted his back before taking a sip of her tea. She hummed in delight at the taste and finished the cup in a few gulps. I offered her more, which she gladly accepted, drinking more before scratching Gretch on the head. The palisman leaned into her hand.

"I could do something else for your, oh, what are you needing the footage for, Dipper?" My question made his head shoot up. He looked at me in surprise. I realized that I'd called him his name before he'd told me.

"How do you know my name?" His eyes widened. "Do you read minds?" I was already shaking my head before he finished. Gretch huffed another laugh.

"I know your uncle, is all." I held my hand up to stop both of their questions. "Stan and I are, well, I suppose you could call us friends."

"Are you two in a relationship? Are you in love?" Mabel stood on her chair, her hands planted on the table as she leaned towards me. I scrunched my face in slight disgust even thinking about being with Stan. My palisman sneezed and shook their head.

"Absolutely not." I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Not even if he begged." The very idea of Stan being who I came home to made me very uncomfortable. Besides...I still dreamed of Ford. I regretted that our first and only kiss was when he was leaving. Maybe if I'd been braver in the beginning, said something sooner, he'd still be here. Maybe it'd have chased him away earlier than he did.

"Um, witch...sir? Ma'am? Sma'mir?" Mabel's voice drew me out of my reverie. I blinked and looked at her. She tilted her head in confusion.

"Pardon, I was leagues away. Did you say something, dear?" I looked at the clock to see the time. "Oh, that might have to wait. You two need to get home." I stood and ushered them to the living room where I grabbed my warmest shawls. They would have to do, my coats were buried in the hall closet. I wrapped one around Mabel, as she was the closest, so that it covered her head. when I turned to do the same to Dipper, he refused.

"I'll be fine, I don't need it." He held up his hands and I put mine on my hips. My eyebrow arched as I gave him a look that said this wasn't an argument. Gretch went behind him and gently nudged him towards me.

"It gets cold at night, especially in the woods." I quickly threw it over his shoulders and over his head like his sister. Mabel giggled as she pointed the camera at us. Dipper's frown deepened as his cheeks reddened. "I won't have you catch a chill on my watch. It'll just be another thing for Stan to b-ahem, yell about." With them properly bundled, I wrapped myself up and had Gretch turn into a staff. Both children gasped.

"I definitely got that on video." Mabel said as I waved them both to get on. Mabel in front of me and Dipper behind, I took off, up and over the trees. The twins both yelled out, though I suspected for different reasons.

As we walked up the porch, the door swung open to reveal Stan himself. He looked from both of the twins then to me. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I told you not to talk to them!" He pushed them both behind him and pointed a finger at me. "You said you wouldn't!" His glare matched mine. I pushed his hand out of my face and lifted my chin.

"Children, cover your ears." I spared them a glance to see them do so. My finger replaced his between us. "They were deep in those damn woods at dusk! I wouldn't have had to take them home if you had been doing your fucking job of keeping them safe! No wonder they're up to their goddamned knees in the supernatural of this fucking town!"

"How much did you tell them, what did you tell them?!" He got closer to me, dangerously so. I pointed my palisman staff towards him as a barrier. "So help me, if you told them-!" That made me scoff.

"Oh, please, I didn't tell them anything." I scoffed and waved my other hand to dismiss the thought. "Do you have such little faith in me? After all these years?" A sigh left my lips as I shook my head.

"Just stay away from them!" He pointed a finger at me again. "They don't need to be involved with all this weirdness." His statement made me roll my eyes and I turned to leave.

"They're already too invested in the weirdness, Stanley." I turned my head to look back at him over my shoulder, mounting my palisman. "They won't end up like him in one summer, but if you're that worried, keep them out of the woods." With that, I took off into the sky.

~*~

The children clearly didn't listen to Stan, if he told them to stay away from me. They came around my home every few days or so, asking me about myself and the woods surrounding. I'd been vague about my friendship with Ford, for Stan's sake if nothing else. Gretch enjoyed their company, especially Mabel's. She would bring the palisman snacks and plenty of affection. Waddles and Gretch became fast friends when the pig was brought along as well.

Mabel had latched onto my story of him and was sobbing by the time I'd told her he was gone and I'd never see him again. Dipper also seemed disappointed, wanting to meet the scientist. He'd asked if I was talking about the author of the journals. I'd told him no. Gretch whined at that, clearly frustrated I wouldn't tell them anything. I just shooed her away.

They told me about their adventures and a figure named Bill. I'd sat eagerly by, hearing about their encounters. They had been in danger multiple times over the summer and I'd nearly gone to shout at Stan some more before they said they didn't want him to know. I explained to them that not telling Stan was a mistake. He is their guardian for the summer and needed to know where they were so he could help if needed. They disagreed and went home. I'd asked Gretch to watch over them for a while to make sure they weren't in too much danger.

It was sometime after Mabel's sock opera when the kids invited me over. Well, more Mabel did, with Stan's permission. Though the man had been rather grumpy over the phone. I was amused by Mabel's antics and agreed, soon making my way over there. Gretch sniffed the air and shook their head, rubbing their nose.

"Oh hush, I'm sure Stan can't stink that bad from out here." I joked before knocking on the door. "Should we invest in nose plugs for you?" The door opened before they could retort. Mabel squealed when she saw me and pulled me into the cabin and to the living room.

"You're going to love this guy, trust me," She squealed again, "I'm a master match maker." I laughed at her enthusiasm. She was determined to have me meet someone. The only time she'd stopped was when she'd found out Stan had a crush on Lazy Susan.

"Mabel, I've told you already that I'm perfectly fine on my own. I really should stop ind--" I looked up to see the unfortunate suitor this time. My eyes widened and my heart stopped. I knew the figure instantly. Despite the wrinkles, my dreams made sure I'd never forget his face. "Ford?" His eyes widened as he recognized me. He said my name in a whisper. Gretch wasted no time in throwing themselves at him, circling and sniffing and bumping into him. He huffed a laugh and pet them gently.

"I didn't forget you either." He looked up from the palisman back to me. "I'd thought you'd have left Gravity Falls." His other hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch me. I couldn't hold back, I ran to him and wrapped him in a hug. The tears that had been building up overflowed.

"I told you I couldn't." I felt his arms slowly hug me back. He squeezed me gently and buried his face into my neck. I gave him one more squeeze before pulling back slightly to look up at him. Our eyes met and I smiled brighter than I'd had in years. He returned the gesture. "I'm glad you're back." Tears continued to slide down my face and I sniffed.

"You knew each other?!" Mabel's voice broke us both out of our little bubble. "What?!" She turned to Dipper, who'd just walked in, and shook him by his shoulders screaming about how this is a better story than the Dusk series. Dipper, having pulled himself from his sister's grasp, looked at me and Ford, still in an embrace. Mabel ran out of the room to go tell Stan.

"...When I asked if the person you were talking about was the author of the journals..." He furrowed his brows. I hesitantly pulled myself fully from Ford's arms and cleared my throat.

"I lied, yes." My hand was already up to stop him from asking questions or comment on my dishonesty. "Stan had asked me not to, it would have caused problems if you knew." The boy looked displeased with my answer.

"That's what Grunkle Stan said, too." He crossed his arms. "It's stupid! If we knew, we could have helped rebuild the portal and get Great Uncle Ford back!" His statement had Ford opening his mouth, but I was faster.

"Now, that's enough, young man!" I put one hand on my hip and pointed a finger at him. He jumped and his eyes widened. I'd never raised my voice at either of the twins before. "Stan is a ridiculously infamous liar, but this time he did out of necessity. You weren't there to see what happened after Ford was sucked into that portal, he was dealing with the grief of losing his brother and while I'm going to have very strong words with him out of earshot of you kids about rebuilding that machine, it's understandable how he went about things." Gretch sneezed, huffed and then looked away. I raised an eyebrow at them and put my other hand on my other hip. They gazed right back at me and yawned before laying down nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. They never truly liked Stan. Ford laughed slightly at mine and Gretch's wordless exchange. I turned to him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. He only shook his head fondly.

"You're defending him?" Dipper stuck up his chin, ignoring the palisman. "I thought you guys didn't like each other..." A sigh escaped me at that. I crossed the room, pulled out a chair to the card table before sitting down. Ford followed to stand next to me, my heart swelled at the thought that he was here. Actually back.

"Stan and I don't always see eye to eye," I began, watching Dipper join me at the table, "but, well, I helped him for the first few months after the incident. With the portal, I mean. We looked through the research we had to figure it out."

"You helped with that?" Ford looked incredulous. "Why? It was dangerous!" His outburst made me look at him with a huff. Gretch snuffed out a laugh and made themself comfortable on the old yellow chair.

"I was getting to that." This seemed to placate him as he closed his mouth and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Anyway, I had been helping him, reading through the only journal we had, before I'd looked at everything and used my oracle abilities to try and track down any others. I'd had a vision in my crystal of what would happen if I helped further and told Stan what I'd seen."

"I'm guessing he didn't believe you?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes. I smiled at how the resemblance he had to Stan in that moment.

"He rolled his eyes just like that when I told him. Stan's always been a stubborn bas--ahem, man." I snickered, glancing at Ford and winking when our eyes met. His face reddened "It's a family trait, I've noticed."

"I'd hardly call myself stubborn." Ford crossed his arms and looked away. "It's not stubbornness when you're right." His defensiveness made me bark out a laugh. His face deepened in color as he refused to look at me.

"Okay, and when you told him what would happen and he didn't believe you, you stopped helping?" Dipper put his arms on the table and leaned towards me, eagerly waiting for the rest of the story.

"Well...not exactly." I looked off to the side, thinking how to phrase my words. "I mean, I stopped helping with the portal, yes, but I stayed until the Shack became more popular. In the beginning of the change, I understood needing the money, but the more ridiculous it became, the more I felt like it was wrong. We'd gotten into a huge fight over it. There's been tension ever since."

"So you and Gruncle Stan were never together?" Mabel's voice made me jump. I looked to see her sitting on the floor and Stan leaning against the yellow chair Gretch had fallen asleep in. He looked at Mabel in confusion. I rubbed my hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Mabel. I've told you this." I looked at Stan and scrunched my nose, he rolled his eyes, his arms crossed. "I have never, and I mean ever, considered Stan anything more than an unlikely friend." I looked at her and shook my head.

"Yeah, they're not my type anyway." He snickered. It was my turn to roll my eyes before crossing my own arms. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, his type is anything twenty years younger and doesn't have enough wits to realize he isn't as funny as he thinks he is." I smirked at the indignant noise he made at my jab. "Or a spider." My last comment made Dipper and Mabel laugh as Stan's face grew red.

"Hey! She didn't look like a spider at the time!" He grumbled and looked back down at Gretch, poking them to try and get them to move. They growled in response. "How do you even know about that?" He looked at the kids and then grumbled under his breath again.

"Besides," I looked at Mabel, "I have my eye on only one person. I have since I first met him." Her eyes sparkled as she looked between me and Ford. Dipper looked exasperated.

"Is he Great Uncle Ford?!" She stood up and pointed at us both. I chuckled at her enthusiasm. Ford looked at her, his mouth agape and cheeks red. Dipper rolled his eyes, but seemed interested as he eyed both me and Ford with interest.

"Yes." I smiled at him as he already opened his mouth, words spilling out before he could register what I said.

"That's hardly an appropriate thing to say--" He stopped and looked at me. "Did you say yes?" He was staring at me in amazement. I could see Stan gagging in my peripheral vision. Mabel giggled and Dipper started writing down on a piece of paper.

"I did." I raised my eyebrow at Ford. "Did you forget about that kiss? I'm a bit insulted." He blinked and cleared his throat, looking away. His face was so red, I thought he was going to faint from the blood rush.

"No!" He cleared his throat again. "No, I just...I didn't think..." His gaze softened and he reached out to cup my face. I leaned in, keeping eye contact as he rubbed a thumb over my cheek. My hand reached up and held his there.

"Ugh, gross. Get a room." We both looked at Stan who gagged again. "At least take it outside." I rolled my eyes again and stood up, bringing Ford's hand from my face to hold between us. He looked at me as I reached up my own hand to bring his face closer to mine. At long last, I kissed him. He made a muffled noise of surprise but quickly leaned into the kiss. Stan and Dipper both groaned as Mabel cheered. I pulled back and looked Ford in the eyes.

"I wish I'd told you sooner," I leaned in and gave him another kiss, "I love you Stanford Pines."

~*~

Weirdmageddon had been concluded, the twins, both sets, safe and sound. Dipper and Mabel had their birthday before saying goodbye. I'd cried as I hugged them. They'd each received a charm of good luck. Ford and Stan had decided to sail around the world, inviting me to join them. I'd told them I'd let them catch up for a few years before setting sail with them. I'd be here when they came back during the summers.

"Are you sure? We don't mind, really." Ford had encouraged, but I shook my head with a smile. Stan shrugged his shoulders with a small smile.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to have a powerful witch aboard." He smacked a hand on my shoulder. I laughed and patted his hand. He moved it back to his side.

"I'm sure you boys can handle yourselves. Besides, I've waited this long." I looked at Stan then Ford. Gretch huffed and sat firmly next to Ford, daring me to try and stop her from going. "Fine by me, Gretch. Go on with them, I'll see you in a few years."

"It doesn't have to be years..." Ford looked down at them with a sheepish smile. "You could join us at the end of next summer." Stan gave a noise of agreement.

"Yeah!" Stan gave me a nudge. "It'd be nice to catch up with you, too." We had gained some of our friendship back during the apocalypse and I was glad for it. I smiled and shook my head fondly.

"Alright, fine." They both smiled at my confirmation. "Send me letters in the meantime." Stan agreed and went to say one more goodbye to his protege, Soos, before getting the car. Gretch huffed and walked off, deciding to stay with me after all. Ford stepped closer to me, gently cupping my face in one of his hands. We both leaned in and kissed. Stan drove up and honked the horn, causing us to reluctantly part.

"I promise to write." He gave me one more kiss before getting into the car and they both drove off. I kept waving until they were out of sight.

"See you next summer." I said before heading back home with Gretch. My heart felt full.

[cypheroo]

The Rose on The Sill | Zane Ro’meave ~ ♧

“Idk if your requests are open but…I wanted to ask for a Mcd Zane x gender-neutral reader You know when aphmau first meets him? And he kissed her hand? Yeah that, Charismatic Zane I need more of that. Like I've been reluctantly charmed by this strange off-putting priest and I need more… (if you write this my life yours/j)”

Tw : Slight off putting behavior? I dunno? Also not fully cannon as you could imagine!

Word Count : 1,467

AN: This one had me going actually insane, like i loved writing this, his lightly odd and off putting behavior mixed with his really appealing character was just aksneneksidid

His gaze was strong, the only eye you could visibly see being cold and half open. He carried himself strongly through the streets you haven't seen him walk through once.

You had lived in phoenix drop since birth. Now that you were old enough to carry your own you lived alone. Since the new lord aphmau had shown up and begun fixing the town up showing it proper leadership, it has been amazing! You had a new market place, proper homes, all the stuff your town was left with after your last lord had…gone. You were more than thankful for the now blossoming community that phoenix drop was becoming.

You weren't super surprised to see new faces show up. But you WERE surprised that a few of those faces were clearly okasis guards. On this specific day you were simply walking through the market when a man with pitch black hair and a piercing eye walked up to you, although he wasn't alone you could care less about the two guards that followed behind him. Something about this man immediately captivated you.

His words came out smooth and clear, “I do Apologize, could I bother you for a moment?” was all he asked as he slightly bowed to you, it had taken you aback as this man, who was clearly of a higher status then you, was lowering his head to you, a mere villager. You answered him with a nod, “what do you need?” you asked, your voice was wary yet intrigued of what he could need.

“I wanted to see if it was possible to meet with your Lord, or your head guard here. Either would suffice” His tone was leading, as if he was waiting for you to accept and rush away to get either or immediately. To which you nodded and looked around a bit, biting your bottom lip in thought, “I believe I Know where our lord is, if you could just wait here a second” you said back to him as you took a step to the direction of lord aphmau's home. The only thing still stopping you was waiting for a response from the man.

“Of course, I do appreciate it” he nodded as if giving you permission to rush away to where you were meant to. And you did. Quickly walking to your current lord's home, but as if he saw your starstruck appearance, Garroth had stopped you, quickly putting a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?” His voice has the same gruff yet comforting tone as ever. When you turned back you didn't hesitate to tell him about the okasis guards and the black haired man who by the looks of it was a priest. Although you couldn't tell the head guards expression you could sense his eyes bore a hole into yours, his usually calm demeanor became slightly frantic as he asked what the man had asked of you, when you answered with, “He wanted to see you, or lord aphmau, i was actually heading to her house before you stopped me” and that answer seemed to please garroth. He sighed as he let you go, “Retrieve Lord Aphmau. I apologize for stopping you” he stated as he turned on his heel, walking away with a bit more hurry to his step then you've seen before.

You continued up the stairs and knocked on the door to Aphmau's purple abode.when none other than Aphmau herself answered with a confused look on her face, you hurried to explain everything that was happening as of currently, and how she was wanted down in the marketplace. Aphmau seemed just as confused as you were, she stated she would head down to meet with the man as soon as possible, and with that you found yourself walking back to catch another glimpse of the odd man.

You peered over the corner and stared at him, he seemed unbelievably comfortable were he was, looking around the place as if he had been here for years. But as you zoned out thinking of how this man seemed to work, he made eye contact with you, he had caught you being a little more than odd, just staring at him. He lifted his hand and simply beckoned you over, clearly wanting a conversation with you. You jumped a bit at the sudden eye contact and swallowed hard as you wiped your shirt a bit walking over to him.

And as you stepped closer you found yourself smiling a little awkwardly, bowing your head at him and before he could even speak you assured that your lord would be here shortly, you tried to come off as assured and as if you hadn't just been watching him from a corner.

A low chuckle sounded from under his lightly colored mask, “I do appreciate it, thank you” he nodded as he then cleared his mind, “are you a local around here? Or are you only here for supplies and will get to travel again?” he asked, his voice once again leading you into answering, his demeanor was forceful, it was something that made you wanna continue a conversation.

You answered with a simple, “lived here since birth! This is my home” he seemed intrigued with the simple conversion and leaned forward a light bit, “ah, this is such a nice home, it seems so free of trouble…and problems, im sure thats a big reason you like it here, correct?” his eyes narrowed a bit as he tilted his head to the side, careful not to show his other eye. As you nodded you found yourself looking closer at the small amount of the face he was visibly showing, were those freckles? Before you could dwell too long he continued the conversation, “I must ask, considering you're here with me instead of doing anything else. Is there someone you go home to every night?” he asked simply, as if it wasn't anywhere near as personal as it really was. You blinked a few times, visibly taken aback by the forward question. He saw your hesitance to answer and followed the question with an explanation, “you're rather attractive, i'm simply asking if i'd be overstepping if i were to note how your eyes are breathtaking” he said it clearly with a smirk under that mask of his.

You quickly shook your head and smiled warmly attempting to ignore the growing redness in your cheeks, “Nope, no one waiting at home for me, i do appreciate the compliment!” you quickly brushed it off and before either of you could continue you could see lord Aphmau walking over, her eyes reading confusion and worry. Before you could back away you felt the man take your hand in his, placing it to his mask, you could feel the lips behind it form a kiss on your hand, his eyes looked to you, “My name is Zane, Zane Ro'meave, I hope we can talk more soon” he bowed once more to you. You introduced yourself and bowed back. He seemed pleased with the ending of the conversation, now turning his attention to Lord Aphmau.

Now it was later in the evening, you were home in your kitchen, drinking water, getting ready for bed but here you were. Still thinking of that man, you had heard that he had taken up space in the house not far from your home. You didn't know why his words got to you. You were almost sure that he had used those remarks on many other people to get on their good sides. Yet it still caused the butterflies inside you to flap their wings crazily at the thought of it. You sighed and took another sip of your water, but before you could finish you heard a knock at your door. You sighed softly as you set the cup down, walking to the door and opening it, jumping lightly when you were met with an okasis guard, holding out nothing but a rose to you.

Before you could decline the gift the guard cleared his throat, “Priest Zane wanted to give you this. I'd be grateful he spared a mere thought for you, let alone the idea for a gift.” the guard was pushy, dropping it in your hand and turning it away. You let out a groan as you looked down at the rose, you stepped back inside, you couldn't break your gaze from the rose. You slowly walked to the kitchen, setting the rose into the cup you had only previously drank from and set it on the window sill. You didn't know why you were still on that man's mind, but a part of you didn't hate it. But more importantly how did he know where to have the flower dropped off?

[garfunklefield]

Eat my food!

Sanji/Zoro Roronoa Warnings: ambiguously pre-time skip, kind of incoherent, therapist Luffy, POV Sanji, abrupt-ish ending, drabble kind of, not beta read we die like MEN Word count: 1453 DESC: Sanji comes to a horrible realization that Zoro has a crush on him

I'm actually getting to requests sorry it's been months LMAO

NOTES: This is not good bc I just got off of anesthesia so I'm like kind of loopy but I've been wanting to write something like this for awhile

Sanji was a cook. Ever since he was young he had longed to be in the kitchen, experimenting with flavors and creating his own original dishes. He was a natural at it too. It wasn’t very often someone found their calling so early in life and stuck with it, growing better each day. Sanji was also a hopeless romantic. It was obvious to anyone he’d met that his heart was bigger than himself and ever-growing. He longed to love someone as much as they’d love him. And he longed to cook for them. It was strange, he thought, wanting someone who liked his meals, but it was never a defining feature in his attraction. 

He just wanted to show someone something he had made, a Sanji original, and have their eyes light up. 

The cook was never particular about the gender of the person he fell for. Sometimes it was women who captivated him, other times men. But he never had a set preference. Each person was different in their personality and their appearance. It was their heart that captivated him. It was their heart he always fell for.

But like everything, nothing lasted. They were never interested in his passion of cooking or really him. Most of the guys just wanted a one-night stand and most of the girls wanted something too stifling. No one was right. No one fit like a glove on his hand, the hands he swore to protect. 

That was until he met those damn pirates. Being their cook was fine, it was just any regular job. Of course, he wouldn’t admit this, but he was severely emotionally attached to that group. He adapted each dish to every one of their flavor palettes and preferences, ensuring they’d like it from the moment they took their first bite. They all enjoyed his meals like any normal person would, smiling politely and eating it like a regular human being. All but one. 

Zoro. That damned man. From the moment Sanji met him he knew that guy would be a pain in his ass. He had no decorum! Ruining the plate within seconds as he scarfed it down without a care for the flavor. He always made some comment, like an afterthought, like, “Nice meal” as a way of saying thanks. Nothing like Robin, who was ever so polite in describing why she liked the dish. Or Chopper, who would shout about how good it was. That was acceptable! But Zoro? Oh, it made his blood boil.

But he had to admit, he cleaned off his plate every single time, leaving no crumbs, and concerningly no bones behind.

It was a colder Tuesday night, Sanji was alone in the kitchen cleaning off the scraps from everyone's plate when he got to Zoro’s. Clean as always. In a way, the way he infuriatingly gobbled down his food was endearing. It meant he was doing a good job. And it made the cook feel a bit better about himself. It wasn’t like an ego boost but more self-assurance that he was truly needed. The fact everyone finished their portions meant more to him than he’d care to admit.

Zoro wasn’t always bad. He always offered to help clean up after dinner, cleaning the dishes and scrubbing the table. And he always offered to keep watch with the cook when it was his turn. He was always there whenever Sanji was trying to be alone, annoyingly picking up a conversation that wouldn’t seem to end. 

If Sanji didn’t know any better he’d say Zoro had a .. crush on … him.

The plate he was holding slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor beneath his feet, causing him to let out a gasp. 

No, no, no, no. 

That stupid plant can’t have a crush on me! There was no way! He wasn’t gay! Well, he doesn’t look gay. I mean you can’t- He… he couldn’t. 

He swallowed and his eyes darted to the door that opened, a rubbery-headed boy's head peeking through to ask, “You okay in here?” Luffy looked at his friend's dumbfounded expression then the plate broken on the floor, a new look donning on his face. He stepped inside, closing the door with his heel behind him. He walked up to the cook and took the cigarette from his mouth, putting it between his lips and [poorly] inhaling the smoke. 

Luffy let out a strangled cough and then cleared his throat, “Talk to me, bud.”

Sanji just stared at him, blinking slowly, “What.”

“Talk to me. What’s wrong Maine Amy?” He tried to take another puff from the cigarette but the cook took it from him and promptly threw it in the garbage. 

“It’s mon ami,” he spoke through gritted teeth, an annoyed expression crossing his face. This guy couldn’t be serious. Why would he confide in Luffy of all people his awful revelation? Or the fact it was making him feel butterflies? Oh, he could just throw up right now.

“Sure,” he patted his shoulder and knelt down to pick up the broken pieces, “You sure broke this, huh! Now what’s wrong? You can tell ole Luff!” Sanji bent down as well, assessing the dead plate before him. And it was a good one too. He knew exactly where he had gotten it from. Shame it was gone so soon.

“I don’t think you’re the best person to talk to this about,” he sighed, speaking honestly. His captain wasn’t known to be very … good at problem-solving when it came to the emotional stuff. And god forbid he went and told Zoro his hypothesis. 

“Why not?” He frowned, before widening his eyes, “Oh is this about Zoro’s crush on you? Glad you figured it out!” He let out an annoyingly chipper giggle, “It was so obvious.”

“It was not obvious! I… dammit,” a frown pulled at his lips and he looked down at the plate in his hand, “Did he tell you or is this another educated guess of yours?” His eyes met with Luffy’s who was staring at him with his regular gaze, stupid and curious. 

“Well, he told Chopper, who told Usopp, who told Robin and Franky, who told Nami, who told me,” he pressed his lips together, “So technically, yeah, I guess he did tell me!” 

The entire crew knew, except the one it was about. And no one told him? Was he supposed to know about this? Was he supposed to do anything? Was Zoro waiting until Sanji figured it out so he could confront him? Like that would happen now. 

“So everyone knows,” he spoke slowly. 

“Yep!”

He leaned back and blinked a few times, “So does Zoro think I know?”

“Yep!” 

“Why??” He groaned, putting his head in his hands and throwing his head back, “I don’t like him. I hope you know that,” he sat up straight and grabbed his friend's shoulders, “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Luffy nodded as he let himself get shaken a bit by the frantic cook, “Sure, Sanji! Whatever you need to tell yourself!”

“It’s true!” 

“Uh-huh!” He nodded, “Whatever you say!”

“I do say! I am saying! I don’t like that stupid swordsman!” 

And speak of the fucking devil, that same swordsman walked in the door, peering his head in and smiling once he saw Sanji. A smile that would now be tainted with the fact it was romantic. He shuddered, his heart speeding up a bit. Out of anxiety, not out of reciprocation or anything. 

The two of them exchanged intense eye contact, the blonde gripping Luffy’s shoulders tight before uttering, “Get out.”

“Whuh?” Zoro narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows. 

“GET OUT!” He shouted, pointing one finger at him and narrowing his eye. 

“But-”

“Out!” 

“Sake-”

“OUT!”

Zoro frowned and rolled his eyes before exiting. Luffy let out a laugh, “Wow you definitely don’t like him!” 

Sanji turned his head to the captain, a look of anger and pure annoyance riddled in his features, “You too.”

“But Sa-a-anij!” Luffy groaned, leaning back, “We were having fun!” 

“OUT!” 

Now he had time to be alone with his thoughts. Everyone knew that moss-headed idiot liked him, or at least everyone thought he did. And Zoro was under the impression Sanji knew too. Who even put that idea in his head? As he swept up the broken plate and lit up a new cigarette he had to confront the obvious question he had been ignoring while Luffy pestered him: did he feel the same?

Well, Zoro had a lot of good qualities aside from being a total dumbass. He cared with a passion and drank with a passion. And he… ate all of Sanji’s food. 

[yanderes-galore]

Not requested but on this blog I want to indulge so that is what I will do! Dirk is in progress, I'm almost done Act 5 so soon I will start Act 6. For now, I give you this to test the waters and because I really want to write for the Trolls. (Been awhile since I've written for the sake of just me so I hope you enjoy me pouring my pent up thoughts about this series- I'll accept feedback) Barely proofread, we die like men.

Alphabet Used Here

Spoiler Warning for both sub-acts of Act 5 probably. This also contains triggering themes so read the warnings before reading.

Yandere Alphabet - Gamzee Makara ♑️

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️(Romantic)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Murder, Sadism, Clingy behavior, Obsession, Manipulation, Worshipping, Violence, Grotesque descriptions, Unhinged Gamzee (What's New?), Kidnapping, Dubious into Forced relationship, Blood, Delusional behavior mentioned, Mentions of keeping a corpse, Stalking implied, Decapitation, Implied nercrophillia but I don't go into it for obvious reasons, Death, Breaking of bones.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

For the most part Gamzee is just so caring. He's good-natured and very dedicated to the friendships he has. When it comes to his darling he'd listen to them for the most part, even consulting them about their emotional problems.

He'd be incredibly affectionate towards you as his Matesprit. He seems touch starved due to his upbringing and would cling to you at every chance he gets. Before his breakdown he's a fine yandere to be around, often just trying to lay with you for cuddles and maybe lazy kisses. He's docile... easy to deal with.

AFTER his breakdown, it's a living hell. He goes from being one of the easiest Homestuck yanderes to deal with to one of the hardest.

He's more likely to kill and torment those around him, including his darling in this state.

Just listen to him... don't provoke him... and you may just be alright-

Maybe....

Long story short, he can get intense either way.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Pre-Breakdown! Gamzee wouldn't really get messy. Don't get me wrong, he's CAPABLE of it, but the bloodlust isn't there.

That is until he realizes his Matesprit may just be in danger. The gloves are off then.

Before his breakdown, Gamzee needs a motive to get messy.

Post-Breakdown! Gamzee will just get messy for the fun of it. He loves to see blood fly like a pretty rainbow.

He would club people's heads in just to see their skulls crack. If they were involved with his Matesprit or not doesn't matter. Afterwards he'll approach you, blood cascading from him in all sorts of colors.

He'll giggle at you, honking at unpredictable volumes before wrapping himself around you...

His Matesprit.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Gamzee normally treats you well. He wouldn't mock you, he loves you too much for that. He wants to hold you and never let you go. He likes how warm you feel against him.

In captivity he'd treat you the same as usual. He holds you close and often presses kisses to you in various spaces. He's lazy with his affection but not in the form of neglecting you it, he likes it slow.

After his breakdown, it's horrible. His "affection" is rough and forced. He's feral in this state almost. After his breakdown he'd definitely mock you and tease you. He's a Purple Blood, he deserves your respect.

He's sadistic after he kidnaps you, dragging you to a secluded spot to keep you after smashing your head with a club. He knows you're his Matesprit still he's just twisted about it.

He becomes strangely obsessive about obedience in this state. The longer you're around this Gamzee, the more you miss the old one.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Before his breakdown, no. Gamzee wants you to keep your free will! He loves you, while he gets jealous sometimes he tries to allow you to do your own thing.

Afterwards, yes. He does pretty much everything against your will after his breakdown.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Before his breakdown I'd say a lot. Even after his breakdown he still does... just completely insane.

Gamzee is very attached to you as a Matesprit. He wants to give you everything he can before his breakdown. He wants to be there for you and you to be there for him.

After his breakdown it's either less or extremely deluded. He still wants to do things for you... but he mostly wants you to do things for him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Normally Gamzee wouldn't understand it. Why are you so upset? It's that or he just takes it as some sort of game and plays along. He doesn't entirely take it seriously.

After his breakdown Gamzee tolerance for this is at an all time low. He'll say it's cute but then try to force you back under his control. If you don't kneel... he'll make you kneel by breaking your bones.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Gamzee likes games but his red feelings for you are no game! He doesn't understand why you try to escape and tries to calm you the best he can. Like a Matesprit should!

After his breakdown Gamzee may indulge in the chase and hunt, then drag you back and punish you for trying that.

Running from your Matesprit... just what were you thinking?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When he eventually has his breakdown. What's worse than Gamzee running around and slaughtering all your friends then hunting you covered in their blood?

Maybe it's when he breaks your bones and makes you bleed for disobeying him?

That, or the high probability of your own death.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Gamzee in general just wants to pursue Matespritship with you. Be you human or troll, he doesn't mind. All he knows is he loves you.

He considers starting a life with you off his sopor slime addiction. Honestly you may be the only one who can tame the rage in his genes. Thinking of the future with you is a bit difficult...

But he's fine as long as he has you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Gamzee is normally really chill. If he did get jealous he could probably cope. You're destined to be Matesprits anyways, that's what his Mirthful Messiahs promised him!

If someone was trying to express red feelings for you too, however...

Gamzee doesn't mind talking to them... maybe even a little threat with one of his juggling clubs.

After his breakdown, he no longer copes. He's going to decapitate someone or just bash them in with his weapon.

It's disrespectful to take his Matesprit, isn't it?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Affectionate. Normally Gamzee clings to you when he sees you and acts really relaxed. Around you he is less inclined to take sopor slime and feels really happy. He doesn't mind PDA and just wants to show his Matesprit he loves them!

If you need to talk to him about something, he's all ears. He loves to try and help you and is even a bit silly at times. He's just... a lovable Matesprit.

After his breakdown Gamzee is just intimidating with his darling. He isn't as openly caring. He cares way more about killing those around you than anything else. He doesn't even mind being a threat to you himself as he gets so deranged.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Gamzee becomes friends with you at first. He doesn't mind placing you in the pale quadrant for now until he starts developing red feelings.

Gamzee will begin to realize he has red feelings for you the more he interacts with you. Be it through a chatting program or beside each other... Gamzee realizes he likes your attention.

He loves the idea of just... chilling with you.

You must be made for him! It's a MIRACLE you've met!

You are destined to be Matesprits, aren't you?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Well... with Gamzee it's hard to say.

After his breakdown, obviously.

Before it... not really anything too noticeable.

Other than the obsessive need to know about you and ask for you to be his Matesprit/the affection I suppose.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Normally, Gamzee wouldn't punish you.

Breakdown! Gamzee would. Which would include a great amount of pain, or possibly death by clubbing.

How much did you piss him off?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Normal Gamzee, none.

Breakdown! Gamzee, nearly everything.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He's patient normally until his breakdown, then his patience is thin.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Normal Gamzee, not really. You may just push him more into his slime addiction if you left before he tried to find you. He may just REACH his breakdown if you left.

If you died, Gamzee grieves heavily. Suddenly... he wonders why he was given such a cruel outcome.

Breakdown! Gamzee won't tolerate you leaving. Either way you'd be dead. He doesn't grieve, either. No... he carries on.

You're still his Matesprit! Even as a beheaded corpse! Really, what will change?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Gamzee may feel bad at first but wouldn't let you go. It is what it is, right? You're Matesprits now.

Breakdown! Gamzee doesn't care. He would still not let you go and does not feel bad in the slightest.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His Lusus was never really home and he was essentially just left to raise himself. He's always been alone. So... that could cause the obsessive need for a Matesprit possibly.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Gamzee would try to console you. He actually likes to mediate emotional issues for friends, like Karkat.

How could he not help his Matesprit out emotionally? He wants to help you the best he can!

Breakdown! Gamzee probably takes some sort of pleasure from it. He'd lick your tears or something, probably.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's likely kill his darling and keep their corpse after his breakdown. We've all seen what that leads to... unfortunately.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

It's easy to get space from normal Gamzee. He loves you and wants you to have freedoms. So... nothing much.

Breakdown! Gamzee... no chance.

Maybe extreme affection?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Normally, no, never.

Post-breakdown? Yes. To the point of death.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He's worship you like a religious gift. He is a worship yandere at times and would go to great lengths to keep you in general.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He could pine for awhile... not too long, though.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Normally, no, never.

Post-breakdown? In every way possible and maybe even more

[bastetwastaken]

Character intro: Aviditas/ Avi

"The desires of the heart are powerful, they can lead to both ecstasy and ruin. Lucky for you, I’m an expert in both."

His head rolled to the side as he was overcome with fatigue, but instead of finding an empty room, his eyes fell on a figure sat perched on the back of his sofa. He couldn't work out what it was exactly… some sort of bird…human…goat thing. Maybe he was hallucinating in his final moments. He frowned, trying to focus on the creature he thought he could see but his vision was blurry. "Aw, not gone yet, hm?" The strange figure spoke as it crossed its arms, dark feathered wings fluttering behind it. "That's okay, I can wait." That captivating voice certainly sounded human, but he couldn't understand why whoever was here had so many extra non-human parts. He squinted at it, lifting his head slowly for a better look. The things wings spread out behind it, framing a beautiful human looking figure perfectly. Wait, was this an angel? Had it come to take him to whatever came next? His lips parted and he tried to speak but it hurt his throat and all that came out was a harsh whisper. "What are you?" A smooth chuckle reached his ears and he found himself fixated on the creature before him. It tilted its head and said nothing as for a moment, it simply…watched him. "A Demon, of course." The other said with a smile, unsettlingly sharp teeth on full display. "I was here to finish you off, but it looks like you've done my job for me, I owe you one." A wink. "Come find me in Hell when you get settled in, hm? I'll show you a good time as a thank you~"

The need to know basics:

Age: Around 4786

Pronouns: Any pronouns, demons have no gender so Avi will simply conform to human perceptions of gender subject to his needs.

Sexuality: Yes. Personality: - Talkative - Flirty - Outgoing - Charismatic - Excitable Occupation: - Incubus/succubus. - Entertainer at an adult club on earth

Habits/Mannerisms: - Very lose morals (if he even knows what morals are) - Carries a small notebook with them which contains strange symbols and he writes in it periodically, especially when he hears something interesting. - Often blunt, but not in a harsh way just in the way that he sees things in a simplified way mostly. - Can get very excitable over new interesting things. - Draws people to him. - Able to talk his way out of almost anything.

Background: - Aviditas is a Latin name which means longing, desire, lust. It was given to him just after his creation. - Avi was never human, instead he is a hell born Incubus. He’s never been alive, or known an existence before that he has now. - Life in hell for them isn’t exactly easy. They are expected to do whatever their master says, without question, and he has done this for a long time. - Before a human changes the way he see's the world, he's never had many aspirations and always accepted the way things are as how they should be, but once his mind is opened, he's not sure he can ever go back to blind obediance...

Avi’s demonology comes from the representation of demons in both Christianity and Hebrew text.

Demons are essentially angels who failed to follow gods instructions, they’re not always inherently evil, more independent actors that aren’t so different from a human in terms of actual morality. However, some demons have their own agenda and can be tempted by primal desires, whilst others are directly influenced by the demons in charge in Hell and actively serve those demons' agendas.

There are demons who worship god, demons who are genuinely good-they’re just very quiet about it.

Avi speaks, reads and writes Enochian, (an occult constructed language which is spoken by angels and demons and other celestial entities, thought to be the first language of christ.) but since his job relies on communication he can also speak any human language as if it’s his own. It’s kind of like the Allspeak of the gods in Norse mythology. He does struggle to read though, often relying on text to speech to use modern technology, and he cannot write any human language. He’s never needed to learn how. Anyone not of angelic/demonic origin won’t be able to understand Enochian, it’s just not able to be perceived by the human mind. It will be possible to see the symbols though if Avi writes them out.

So he’s a demon, but what can Avi actually do?

Only certain kinds of demons can possess people. Avi cannot possess a person or an animal, but he can take their form and mimic them perfectly if he knows enough about them.

For Avi's power to fully work, he has to create a moment of weakness in the target. This is often easy for him to do through temptation. Once the person accepts him, invites him in, or falls for his charm then he is able to use his power on them.

Avis power will make even the lightest of touches feel intense to someone, everything with him will feel so much better than it ever has done with any other person. This is so he can create a stronger desire in someone and therefore have more Lust to feed on.

He can hypnotise his prey to make sure they don’t fully realise what he is. At any point he can blur the lines a little and make the person think he’s just a regular human who’s very good at what he’s doing. This is why he isn’t worried about showing his demonic features even in human form although generally if he’s out in public or doing his human job, he will keep his horns and wings hidden but he likes those things about himself so is reluctant to do so.

Avi can create obsession in a person, it’s a kind of defence mechanism and survival trait. He can make someone willing to protect him, fight for him, keep him safe from other threats to the point where they will willingly die for him. He can make them act impulsively, take risks they might not have done before and even change their personality entirely.

He can create obsession by visiting a person frequently, being intimate with them often and imprinting on them so they feel unable to live without him. He makes them feel like they desperately need him around, and this suits him fine when he needs to secure longer term food or has to hide from something. It will not be clear to the person under his spell what’s going on, but his spell can be broken by his own choice or by force if the right methods are used. (Avi will not be able to do this to a person who’s heart already belongs to another). Obsession can also occur accidentally if Avi is not careful to detach himself from a person.

Avi can sometimes become attached to a human. He tries not to do this, but if it does happen then Avi will become the irrational one. He’ll swear to protect the person, risk his own life to do so and may also stop feeding off others in favour of spending time with the person. - It’s more like an addiction for Avi though than actual feelings, he just follows his instinct which tells him he needs that person and can’t let them go.

Demons have mates, but Avi has not yet found one. He doubts he ever will find one, but this also means that he can accidentally imprint on humans he feeds on and bond with them, although the bonding part has to be consensual. It would be possible for a human to become Avi’s mate, but that would probably have its own issues due to the fact Avi is immortal and if a demon loses their mate, they cease to exist.

Avi can heal himself easily and can even heal others of simple things if he likes them enough. He can also take pain away with his touch and closeness. He has a very high pain tolerance too, it takes a lot to really hurt him.

His saliva acts as an aphrodisiac.

He can sense the true nature of a soul if he chooses to (although he'll likely only do this when it suits his purpose cause it takes effort)

------

Avi is one of the main characters of my fantasy romance between a demon and the human they accidentally saved from death.

The above image was created with Picrew’s “♡ doshi's oc avatar maker ♡“ Link is in the image

[nightlix07]

༆Maze of memories༆

Character(s): Reo Mikage (Blue lock)

Reader type: Not specified(Gender-Neutral Pronouns)

Warning(s): mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, ED)

Genre: Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Happy ending(?I mean I think it is...)

Word count: ~5,3k words (I think the site lied to me, maybe)

Author's note: Did I not see enough angst with him and I did it myslef? Yes I did. Did I go too hard on how depressed Reo can be?...maybe. Enjoy! <3

It was a warm sunny day. Maybe too sunny as you had to keep a bottle of water close by if you wished to keep running on the field without fainting. Keeping up with Reo's stamina was tough, playing against him on a 1 on 1 was like running for the Olympics. It was like this boy had no limit.

"Come on Y/N! I know you can do better!~" You heard Reo coo teasingly.

Oh, how he annoyed you... You pushed yourself further, running to block his shot and stealing the ball. His eyes widen slightly seeing how focused you became. He smirked and ran after you, trying to block your shot as well but to no avail. You scored with a powerful blow. You heard Reo clapping as he smiled warmly.

Nagi looked up from his phone to just nod at you as to congratulate you. Then he went to continue his game again... You were wondering what game was so captivating. Maybe an open-world RPG? Or something that required more thinking? Your thoughts were cut off when you heard Reo's voice.

"Impressive, yet easily noticeable by the opponent team. If this was a real match...." You sigh and take the water bottle he was offering you. You were thirsty after that amount of effort under the scorching sun. The water felt divine, it was cold, bringing your body temperature back to normal.

Reo was still rambling about all the other ways you could have stolen the ball, scored and whatnot. You didn't mind it. It was kind of cute seeing how he was able to ramble for hours on end about soccer.

"Hmm, but what's more important is that I beat you so don't be a sore loser~" You say, taking revenge for how much he has teased you while playing.

Reo scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest while glaring at you playfully. You both liked to annoy each other and somehow those banters never escalated into a fight. It was some kind of mutual understanding. On filed it was no different, people said eyes talk and they weren't lying as with just a glance you two could understand each other. Nagi understood those 'signals' as well. It was like a strange string connecting you three, fate most likely as you liked to say. Other schools feared Hakuho High School's soccer team because of your trio. And they feared you for a good reason. This is how every day looked for you: Reo challenging you to try the tricks he learned and Nagi sometimes taking part just to absolutely destroy both of you at soccer.

Today was no different: training, running, laughing and joking...until a teacher brought over some weird-looking envelopes.

"Blue Lock?.... It sounds like a prison. " You say unimpressed.

The three of you studied the weird-looking letters. Reo's full of enthusiasm at the new opportunities that just opened up. His eyes twinkled with joy...until he saw you and Nagi looking at the letter in disdain.

"Oh come on, it clearly says they want us to join to get better at soccer...! It's an opportunity we can't pass!" He was trying his best to get you and Nagi to agree.

You didn't like the sound of the so-called 'project' and Nagi...

"It's a hassle... Too much work."

Reo sighed and wrapped his arms around both of your necks smiling brightly, bringing you two close to him.

"Come on, we promised to become the best! You can't back out now!" Reo was always good at tying the team together. After all, he was the one who 'created it'.

You remember how the school's team came to be. You were tasked to ask students around the school if they wished to join the school's soccer team. Most of them weren't interested and you were ready to give up...until you met Reo. He started acting like his life depended on it, following kids until they agreed or just plain ol' threatening them....subtly.

"Join the soccer team! The best team ever! " Reo shouted with vigour. You barely knew him... Why did he care this much?... You sigh and pay it no mind.

"Hey...we don't know for sure if the team will be that good-" You try to reason with the purple-haired boy but your words were cut off by him almost instantly.

"I'll make sure it will be!" He said proudly and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. He scowled at your reaction but after a bit, he couldn't help but burst out laughing as well.

After that ordeal, Reo said he knew the perfect last candidate: Nagi. Making the white-haired boy agree to join the soccer team...was harder than proving your homework wasn't stolen off of another classmate to the teacher.

From that point onward, you three were inseparable. You still remember the night you two had to practically shove information down Nagi's throat so he would pass, or when Reo refused to talk to either of you because he messed up a shot. You chuckle with fondness at the memories. You liked them. If it weren't for this small group, life would be boring, wouldn't it? A life without Reo nagging you, without Nagi explaining the tactics he needs to use to win the game's next level. A family.

And so you decided to join Blue Lock.

"There are so many people..." You look around in curiosity, walking close to Reo and Nagi, not wanting to get lost in the crowd.

"Means the selections will be hard." Reo mutters in slight concern while looking at the stage up front.

The project's logo stood proudly on the big screen. The rest of the scene was awfully empty, the only 'decoration' being two plants. Nagi was also looking around, meaning it was a fascinating situation if it made him look away from his phone. The lights cut out around the room, and the ones on the stage shine brightly, almost blindingly. You squint your eyes to adjust to the light. On the stage, a tall, slim and weak man appears...Ego, your so-called new coach. He looks like he hasn't slept in decades! He goes on and on about this project, talking about how soccer isn't about a team, how you should be egoists and other uncanny things. It looked like it was a cult! It was weird at best. After Ego finishes his speech, the screen opens up, creating an entryway. It was filled with thick fog, the entrance looking like it was straight out of a horror movie.

"So who is ready to be an egoist should enter at once, the other weaklings can leave!" The man yelled as he glared at all of us.

People started talking between them, whispers of disapproval and fear. Some trying to hype each other up to join. I was looking at the doorway. Who in their right mind would go? It sounded and looked like a cult! ...And of course, Reo was ready to go, taking both your and Nagi's hands, dragging you to the giant doorway. Did he have no survival instincts?! Maybe his basic survival skills somehow dispersed into thin air but yours were in full swing.

"Hey, hey! Let's think this through! It sounds suspicious Reo!..." You try to pull back but to no avail. Reo's grip on your wrist was firm. No way you were going to be freeing yourself from it.

The first few challenges were easy, more like child's play for your trio. Even the first real match was easy. Reo helping you and Nagi connect while the other team couldn't even tell which one of you will strike thanks to the constant passing between you three. Your team won with 5-2. You breathe deeply to catch your breath after all that running.

"We did it! If the next teams are so weak we're set! Good job Y/N!" Reo says enthusiastically.

Again, how did he have so much stamina? He ran around the field, dribbled, passed, scored. And somehow he was still able to run to your side to ruffle your hair. You push away his hand as you shoot him a warning glance. Reo laughs softly. Your team was happy, celebrating. You, Reo and Nagi rambling happily about the match. You hear someone crying and you look at the other side of the field. It looked like a battlefield.

People laying on the floor, crying, yelling. It was weird seeing all those other kids' dreams be crushed. The looks of pure despair, disdain, hatred even. You decide to walk away before one of them tries anything to take revenge. Before the next match, you had time to prepare and rest, so you decided that a quick meal would give you some energy and prepare you for the next hours of training. Of course Nagi and Reo tag along. Where you went, they went too and this was kind of an unwritten rule.

You sleepily lean your head against the cafeteria table after finishing your food. You look up only to see Reo trying to make a deal with Nagi to eat. You chuckle at the sight as Reo glares at you. You also train for a while before heading off to sleep. You lay in your comfy bed, close your eyes and wait...and wait... Why were you so restless...? It was only a match, an easy one on top of that. Still, you couldn't sleep. You move around, try different positions, count sheep, any old trick in the book but still nothing. You decide to sit up and look if anyone is also awake. Nothing. You sigh annoyed and you move to stand up. If you can't sleep you can at least train. Your stamina needed some training anyway so why not- Well that's what you wished to do before your master plan was stopped by Reo pulling your hand down. Again, his grip on your wrist was like being held down by some of the strongest chains known to man. How does he even manage?! You try to argue with him but he tiredly opens his eyes to glare at you.

"But Reo I can't sleep anyways, I can at least train!-"

"Sleep."

"Reo-"

"Y/N." His eyes were stabbing daggers into you.

Without any place to dispute this, you lay back down. After the effort of trying to break free from the inhuman hold Reo had on you, you fall asleep quite quickly. Somehow his grip on your arm never faltered.

It was time for the match. You were against team Z. Both teams take their specific spots on field, waiting for the kick-off. Reo quickly starts the game, Nagi sprinting forward while you and Reo were using the give-and-go technique, confusing the other team.

"Reo, off to Nagi!" You shoot the ball to Reo after you broke defence.

He quickly catches your pass and sends it to Nagi. Our quick understanding of each other's position on field made the other team lose the first three rounds. They were getting desperate and it was easily noticeable. Some glared at us, others threw insults yet once again you could only see that eerie landscape...despair. You hated that look so you turn to search for Reo's cheerful eyes to shake off that odd feeling. And so you find them, purple eyes filled with nothing other than the most beautiful things in this world: fondness, kindness. He smiles warmly at you and the feeling of fear and pain disappear like they were never there in the first place.

"What, missed me?~" Reo says teasingly while tilting his head to taunt you. He was back to his teasing demeanour.

"Not that much really."

"Oh so you missed me-" You cut his words off by gently flicking his forehead at which he groans and pouts. You pat his head as to say sorry and you go back in position.

And so your eyes leave him and focus on the view in front of you. Misery, anguish. You get goosebumps from the chillness and brutal glares the other team had. You prepare yourself to mark one of the other teams' attackers. The first touch moves towards you, you look at the yellow-eyed boy in the eyes as he smiles insanely. He dribbles past you and all of your team. You watch it wide-eyed as you see him move closer and closer and...he scores. His team welcomes him back with open arms while you look at Reo for any kind of comfort or help but you only see fury. He just...stared at the other team.

"Reo?-"

"They got the taste of victory. Now they'll act like dogs teaming up on us..." His words were pure venom. His usual soft eyes were now void of emotion. He wasn't even looking at you, he gazed yonderly at the other side of the field. His eyes seemed to go past your like you weren't even there in the first place.

"Reo!" You say a bit louder trying to get his attention and maybe calm him down.

His eyes seem to snap back, focusing on your figure. He smiled weakly as his eyes retained some of their usual warmth.

"Ah sorry, I was talking out loud wasn't I? Don't mind it, you know I get mad easily Y/N." He tries to lure you away from the truth with small lies yet you knew him better.

You decide to not push him too far and just pat his head as encouragement. The match starts once again. Reo loses the ball and you're forced into defence. They score again. You see Reo's eye twitch as he stares at Team Z, more precisely, the player that marked him the whole match. The other player notices Reo's hostile look so he walks closer with a teasing grin on his face.

"What is it genius, huh? Never lost a match? I'll make sure you taste failure you-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Reo hits the player with his elbow. You run to Reo's side to pull his hand away and stop him from hitting the guy again. This action earned him a yellow card yet Reo didn't seem to mind, his eyes were calculating, almost predatory while watching Team Z help their stumbling teammate walk to a nearby bench. After you shake him slightly Reo's eyes move to study your figure. They were frigid. He pushes you off while glaring at you.

"I know what I'm doing do stop treating me like a child. If they keep scoring they'll think they're strong...like some strays scaring off some weaklings." His voice was loud and harsh, his demandour aggressive.

You just stare at this whole ordeal. You knew he didn't like losing but still... You notice his eyes faltering when he notices your slightly scared look. He eventually gives up arguing and hugs you closely while hiding his face in the crook of your neck, trying to forget about this whole competition, trying to remember how playing soccer as just a game was.

"Sorry..." That's all he mutters before he looks up to see any sort of reaction. He wanted to know if you were mad at him, startled, sad, anything. Reo just wanted to protect you from those destructive emotions as best as he could and being the cause of them wasn't something he wanted.

"Are you done acting like a maniac? We'll win. I'm sure of it." You say reassuringly while tying his now messed up hair back up.

You see Reo's eyes light up once again. Even if the game was 4-4, a gamble at best, you still had hopes. You were strong enough, you could do it. The first kick starts the game, everything seems to be distorted. The other team was moving rapidly along the field, your eyes were never able to find all of Team Z. You run, you try to block, mark, anything yet it was useless. You hear a whistle. The one that you heard whenever you scored, whenever you won.

"Team Z won! Congratulations, next repartisation will be calculated...-" You don't even hear the rest of the announcement as you just stare at the big screen depicting your failure. Everyone looked at it like it was some kind of painting with some strange untold stories.

You...lost? What was this weird feeling? Why wasn't our team happy? Why was that look of despair spreading around your team? Was this the feeling the teams you beat felt? You didn't like it and neither did Nagi or Reo.

"I don't like this. Why am I sad? This is what losing feels like. I don't like it." You hear Nagi mutter while standing close to you, gazing at the other celebrating team.

Reo was on the opposing side of the field. His gaze was cold, he wasn't looking at the other team, he just stared down. You decide to walk closer to him just for him to look up at you with a shattered look. Like he lost all motivation. You didn't like the look of anguish in his eyes, you only wanted to see his usual joyful look.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault-" Reo's voice was a bit shaky.

You didn't like him being sad. You never wanted to see him lose again if it meant he would be like this. Why were you feeling this way?... You felt like you could do anything to 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 his cheerful personality. You decide to gently smack his head at which he looks up scared.

"Our fault. We're a team." You smile softly at him while Nagi gives a thumbs up as approval. Reo smiles and nods. You appreciated the way your friendship was pure love and support for each other, no matter the case.

Your team still moved to second selection. Before you could move to that stage you had to train for a week straight. You thought it would be easy yet every night, as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold. After that week you finally got moved to second selection where followed only...more training. But it was worth it to pass that big door to see Reo and Nagi again. The room was bustling with life. You run to hug both of your friends. You didn't even know you missed them! You were ready to move to the next stage, this amazing trio had a bit more to fight to get to the national team-...

"Nagi?" You turn to see Nagi staring in the distance. Why wasn't he coming?

"Come on Nagi, we'll lose the head start." Reo sounded anxious.

But Nagi wasn't budging. Where was he even looking at?! You finally turn fully to scout the area. Isagi's team? So he was worried about what his team will be like?-

"Isagi, I want to join your team."

Oh, who would even want to join that idiot's team, you think scoffing before you recognise the voice. The voice that used to always nag you about games or deny any training.

"Nagi, what are you saying?" Before you could even react, Reo speaks.

Nagi was only walking further away from you. Where was he going? Was he pranking you? He never did that. Was he testing you? Did he want to see if you really cared? What did he want? Why would he leave? You feel like you're breaking down. The stable walls you had built alongside those two. The pillars of love, trust. Falling. Your face quickly loses all light, all hope. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫. It was taking you over. Eating away at all your feelings and emotions. Why was Nagi getting farther away? Why was he leaving? You turn to Reo for support, help, care yet you only see a crushed soul. It felt like the soccer player you loved to annoy was gone. Everything was 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. This was a dream all along, wasn't it? No way everything would be destroyed this easily. Nothing was real, was it? Nothing really happened. Nothing-

"Nagi, we were supposed to be a family, a team!" You don't even know who said it. Was it you, or was it Reo who dared to shout those words?

You heard the door open. Those doors reserved for your small team of three. The small team meant to go to nationals. You stare at it like it was alive, like it took away Nagi, like that inanimate object was the one making you feel all this pain. You snap out of this spiral of doubt, feeling a weak hand taking your hand. Reo. What was supposed to be Reo, what remained. He was almost crying, almost, as always. He was staring at you, begging.

"Y/N. You won't...leave, isn't it?... I'm still of use to you." His voice was weak, shaky. It missed all the force and happiness it had.

You bring him closer and hug him. That's all you could think of. You wanted him close, you wanted to comfort and feel comforted. You feel Reo cling onto you like you would just disperse into small particles of dust if he lost his grip on you. It felt like he was holding onto the last piece of the dream he had. This was surreal.

"Y/N. You didn't respond. Why do you keep looking at those doors? Do you want to leave too? Please...don't..."

His voice. His embrace. It lost all past meaning. It was just pain. The despair you despised.

"I won't leave Reo. Why would I? You're everything I have." It's all you manage to say. You wanted to be strong. To help him yet you were as terrified as him.

The whole room was looking at you two, like you were putting up a show for their pleasure. Your pain, entertainment for them. You hated this place. You wanted to get out. You decide that you have to be the one helping. Some pieces of you still standing while Reo didn't have anything left. You take a deep breath. This was your role now. Build him up to build yourself up. Now how could you help him? Water? Maybe. He's dehydrated... You decide to get to the lounge and get some water.

"Don't...leave. Y/N please don't...I can't anymore."

You immediately turn to hug him once more, trying to soothe his pain. He muffled his cries in your shoulder while you were trying to hide his exhausted body. The others were preying on pain like it was their only source of energy. If you could, you would take out every single one of them...

This went on for a while until Reo calmed down. You both sat in a corner of the room. People were still whispering about what happened. Those useless...

"Y/N, you can leave me if you want to. You know that don't you? Maybe I've lost use or talent. That's why he left isn't it?" He was saying you could leave yet his tight grip on your hand was saying otherwise.

"I said I'm not leaving. I need you. You're talented Reo. Stop putting yourself down"

"..."

"Reo, please."

Silence. You turn to look at him. He was tired, worn out. A shell of what he was. But no worries, you would help him. You're going to always be there for him. You smile at the thought and move to stroke his hair. He just looks up at you, too weak to even react. You were calm yet your mind was racing. Nagi left, Reo is giving up on everything, you need to move forward but you can't push him too much.

"Hmmm, the geniuses fell? Where's the other one?"

You turn to look up at the one talking to you. The redhead from Team Z. Chigiri. You stand up, trying to protect Reo.

"What do you want?"

"Where is the white-haired one?"

"Not your problem."

"He left, isn't it? That's why the so-called genius is weeping."

His tone was sarcastic. You grit your teeth at the smug expression on his face.

"Not your problem I said. I advise you to stop."

Your tone was menacing, bloodthirsty even. Chigiri stopped and just glanced at Reo who was now standing behind you.

"I want to join your team. The white-haired one left you and my own team left me. We're on the same page aren't we?"

Oh, so he meant business. This is your chance. He was strong and his talent was of use. If you managed to forge some new reactions...you didn't need Nagi anymore.

"Very well. Welcome to the team, Chigiri." You shake his hand.

And so you could move to the next stage. Reo was clinging onto you and Chigiri was just walking next to us. He didn't seem to care about what Reo was doing which was perfect. You could rest before choosing who to fight against. You needed it, Reo needed it and by the exhausted look on Chigiri's face, he needed it too. The room was small yet comfy. Chigiri went out to train or just manage his thoughts as well, away from his new companions. And so you were left alone with Reo. He was just standing on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. What was he thinking? He looked like instead of the floor he saw the replay of all his life. Of all that went wrong. You decide to bend down in front of him to grab his attention. He looks up slowly, his eyes red from crying.

"Reo, want me to bring you something from the cafeteria? You didn't eat today."

"No."

"Reo, you need to eat."

"I said no Y/N."

You couldn't even get through to him. He didn't leave the room. He didn't eat, he didn't train, he was rarely speaking. You move to gently comb your fingers through his hair. You wanted to help him, you wanted to bring his joy back yet it seemed like this was the new Reo. You sigh and move to lie on your bed. It was late anyway, you needed rest and he didn't seem like he was in the mood to talk anyway. You couldn't close your eyes though. Images of your happy memories with your friends flash in front of you if you do. It made you sick seeing how Reo has just gotten worse in just a few hours. You saw his strong figure, his smile, his laugh, yet across from you, you saw how he lost his pride, his everything, even himself.

You finally got to sleep for a while. You toss and turn...yet you somehow manage. It was mostly quiet yet you jumped at any little sound. The board's creaking, Chigiri moving around, anything. Even the quiet steps, the gently closed door, the muffled cries. You knew it was Reo. You wanted this to end. Why was 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 plotting to destroy everything? What did you do? What did Reo do to deserve being torn apart like this? You walk up to the door and gently knock. You couldn't wake up Chigiri yet you couldn't let Reo alone.

"Reo. Open the door."

"Leave, I'm fine."

"You aren't, you're sick. You've been throwing up for at least 5 minutes. Open the door."

You were getting annoyed. Not at him, at yourself. You let this happen, didn't you? You didn't keep Nagi close, you didn't try to push Reo to eat or talk. You left him alone. You're a horrible person- You hear reluctant steps and a quiet click. That's everything that was holding you back. As soon as the pale bathroom light crept through the barely open door, you swung it open and leapt into Reo's embrace. You hug him as close as you can. You try to give him your warmth. He was cold, and fragile yet that made you want to 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 him even more.

"I'm sorry I'm like this Y/N. I don't think I can continue anymore. I don't want to play soccer anymore. I don't want to live anymore. Too much..."

"Shh... I'm not mad. I will never be Reo. Please don't cry. It's fine..."

His arms were frail. He was crying uncontrollably while shaking. You could feel your shoulder get wet because of his tears. You didn't like it. Scouring the bathroom you saw a blade discarded on the floor. It felt like the little hope you still had crumbled. You move his arm up and gently kiss his wrist before moving his hand to cup your cheek. You try to smile while seeing the harrowing sight in front of you.

"It's fine. I'll help you, Reo. You're going to be fine. Please..." You were just pleading. Begging like your life depended on it.

"I don't want to continue. Too much pain. I feel sick Y/N."

His words were pure agony. At that very moment, you lost all composure. You felt like he was slowly slipping away from you. He was leaning against you, searching for support so he wouldn't fall. His hug wasn't strong like his usual ones. You couldn't do this anymore as well. You wanted this to end. You wanted to wake up, to wake up and see Reo and Nagi look over at you as they giggle at how you managed to fall asleep in such a silly position yet the daggers that were taunting your poor heart were real.

"Reo, wash your mouth and drink a bit of water to freshen up all right?" Your voice was soft and caring. You could see a small and broken smile form on his lips. Hope.

Reo did as you said. It was like he was a puppet, he didn't want to do anything yet he still listened to you. You were the only thing he had left. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. After he drinks the water he looks up at you again, waiting for a new command.

"Y/N, I'll get better. For you." He sounds hopeful, his eyes glistening with adoration.

This was your new reality. Yet you didn't mind it if it meant he would get better. Even if it took years, decades, you will help him find himself again, you'll help him become the best player in Japan. You smile at the idea, it was foolish yet your immature reasoning couldn't stop you.

"Are you better, Reo? Think you can sleep?"

"Mhm... But Y/N, you don't mind what I've become? You don't see me as sickening?"

What question was that even? Reo, sickening? You saw him as the most beautiful boy. He was talented, caring, and loving. His voice was soft and sweet. His eyes were enchanting. His hair was soft and smelled of strawberries which he always denied with a small blush. He always knew how to make you laugh, he always protected you. How could he even ask that?

"Y/N?... Ah, I knew you saw me that way. No need to hide it."

"No."

"Huh? What do you?-"

"I love you."

Why did you let those words slip? You're stupid... He'll get even more scared. This is it, you're done-

You hear him...laugh. Ah, so it was funny...good enough... His arms snake around you, holding you close to him. His eyes were gloomy yet a small flicker of fondness fought its way through.

"I love you more Y/N. I'm not in the right state to give you all my love yet...- Y/N I'll be me again, I'll be even better. Just please, wait for me."

That sweet smile you cherished, it was back. Even if it was only for a split second... It's all you need.

"I'll wait for you."

Hope you enjoyed it! If you have any tips on how to improve please do tell. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[5eraphim]

The vampire Demo Engie, Heavy, and Medic with a vampire hunter s/o was so good! You wrote it so well and like I imagined 🥰🥰🥰 could I politely ask u to finish with vampire Sniper, Spy, and Scout? Thank you so much ur work literally rots my brain 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Im so glad you enjoyed- it was so fun to write🌻🥺 for the sake of consistency, i decided to keep the reader gender neutral, also i apologize that Scout and Sniper's sections are kinda short, Sniper's always been weirdly hard for me to write tbh, but i really hope he feels "in character" enough, and I could only come up with a few ideas for vampire Scout- but that aside, thank you for the request!

LINK TO PART 1 🦇🗡️⚰️

Characters: Scout 🐇, Sniper 🦘, and Spy 🐍

Rating: M (MINORS DNI, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: yandere, smut, exophilia, mind break, toxic relationship, hypnosis, primal kink, kidnapping/captivity, possessive behavior, stalking, bad ending, graphic depiction of gore (all of them really- but Spy's is probably the worst RIP)

Word Count: 4.4k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- Hunter's Moon, Ghost)

Scout, the Lost Boy

If there were any of the vampire mercenaries who would outright try to antagonize vampire hunters for the thrill of it, Scout would be the prime suspect. As a vampire, Scout would likely live much like the Lost Boys. Sleep all day, party all night; as far as he cares, the immortality granted to him is nothing but endless time to party and enjoy his eternal youth. So what if some hunters wanted to join the party? It's not like Scout was afraid they could really put an end to his fun. 

Trying to poach Scout would be a more laborious challenge than you initially thought. On the outside, he might not look like he could put up much of a fight compared to the older vampires, the other mercs. While this may be true, Scout is far from helpless, and even if he's content to spend eternity partying and having a good time, he can be merciless like any creature of the night. 

Scout has a territory he's claimed, a little spot his family once lived he holds onto. It's not much to outsiders, but it's sentimental to him, and Scout fights hard to maintain it. Though that doesn't mean he wants to stay in the same place forever and sees this more as a "home base" rather than a permanent estate. He likes to keep active and is also frequently on the move, endlessly looking for his next high, the next part, or his next meal; because of this, Scout's hard to predict, and trying to track him down and get a hit on him won't be easy.

While he's the youngest of the vampires, he's pretty social and likely heard about you butchering other vampires he knew before you decided to start hunting him. He might even begin to stay on the lookout for you to see if he can spot you before you catch him first. There's a decent chance he's never actually killed a vampire hunter, and he can't help but hope you'll be his first. Strangely the idea of being the one to end your life gives him just as much grief as exhilaration.

Vampires and hunters come and go quickly, given the bloody and violent nature of their lives, but even without really meeting you, Scout can't help but feel attached, and he can't stop wondering why he's so scared to think about you leaving without a trace like so many other hunters before. When you eventually decide to start pursuing him, Scout's more than excited to finally meet you in person, much to your confusion. A little nervous, but in a good way, like the feeling of reaching the top of a roller coaster before the rapid descent. 

His excitement to meet you goes without saying, but maybe he also feels flattered to think you consider him dangerous enough to try and hunt down. Feeling like he's finally one of the "big bad" vampires now that hunters are going after him. Before the encounter, he'd been extra savage in the night, leaving bloody carcasses within the perimeter of his dwelling, hoping they would help lead you closer to him.

You knew he was arrogant and a show off from what you'd heard from other hunters. So when he came bounding over to you, effortlessly dodging your projectiles and bullets, telling you how excited he was to finally meet you after all this time, you were speechless. You saw him as nothing but a little easy target practice, a lightweight; you had no idea he'd become obsessed with you like this. Before now, you never thought of yourself as a professional-tier hunter, and the idea other vampires could pass your information along amongst themselves made you want to take out Scout all the more.

But as mentioned before, he's not so easy to take out, and the more time you spend fighting, you can't help but wonder if it's all worth it after all. The relationship after this would be a bizarre hunter-and-prey role reversal; the hunter, you, now forced to try and hide and escape from the vampire. However, with Scout's now supernaturally boosted speed and enhanced senses, you're further out of your depths than expected. The depth of the situation only really sinks in when you try to abort your hunt and flee his territory. Scout learned your hunting schedule quickly, immediately noticing when you didn't show up to your usual spot near his turf to hunt.

It wouldn't take long for Scout to begin to assume the worst here, thinking he was no longer good enough for you, thinking you'd run off to replace him with some other vampire. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

Once he managed to find you, Scout made himself known. You knew better than to let him get any closer. Scout's attacks were most effective when he could get right up in your face, so you cleared the area as fast as possible, thinking you narrowly managed to escape. Only to discover your home's shattered windows and a raw human heart on your doorstep, topped with a messily scrawled note letting you know exactly who your "surprise" visitor was. As well as warning you against going after any other vampires.  

From then on, you were forced to constantly watch your back when stepping out of the house, afraid he could be hiding around the corner at any time, waiting to rush you by surprise. He might not be able to get in without being invited, but Scout would force you to live in endless paranoia. He was drawing closer only moments away from striking you again. And you both knew you couldn't hide forever.

Sniper, the Apex Predator

If Scout was a tricky vampire to hunt down because of his unpredictable nature and evasiveness, Sniper was even harder to hunt, though for entirely different reasons. Unlike the loudmouthed speedster, Sniper was an altogether different breed. He managed to elude hunters and stay on the prowl for his next kill by hunting from the shadows. Able to disappear without a trace on command, invisible to any other human or vampire. Sniper only went out in the dead of night and remained out of sight until the second he was ready to pounce, attacking with a predator's decisiveness ending the life of another in a matter of seconds.

To call him territorial would be an understatement. Sniper's land was his alone, and he didn't allow any to trespass. His dwelling held such a reputation for death most thought the ground itself was simply cursed; the idea of an individual, supernatural or not, was inconceivable.

Sniper genuinely was one of those once-in-a-lifetime apex predators. Able to extinguish the life of another with one bite, an attack so silent and sudden none of his prey lived to tell the tale. He was nothing less than the stuff of legends. A kind of beast with a legendary legacy of bloodshed, a traceless reputation, and a propensity for leaving behind no living witnesses. The idea of such a mythic vampire continuing to walk the face of the Earth on this day was too much for most to believe. No one knew how old Sniper was as a vampire, but no one knew much of anything about him, and he liked it that way. You must have been looking for a lot of trouble the day you decided to try and hunt him down.

Sniper might have been just an urban legend to some, but even if he wasn't precisely "believed in" by modern humans, people knew to stay away from his hunting grounds because of the superstition, the supposed "bad luck" striking all who stepped foot there. He was so used to having the hunting ground all to himself that the idea of another hunter out that night stalking him from behind never even crossed his mind. He couldn't remember the last time anyone managed to go undetected by him; if you were to handle such a feat, he'd never seen anything like that before. Sniper might have sensed something was a bit off that night but wouldn't investigate the area. His intuition didn't warn him of a human, and he reasoned if something did manage to get close, he would know by now. So when he caught you out of the corner of his eye, he froze for just a second. But just long enough for you to flee, disappearing from his land in the blink of an eye without a trace.

The following night, he'd be on high alert, wondering if you would return. He felt restless, Sniper was addicted to the isolation in a way, but you changed that, and he no longer felt at rest. Like you altered his home in a way he couldn't quite understand. Sniper couldn't tell if he never wanted you to step foot on his land again or if he needed you back right away to fix what you disrupted. He would wonder why you didn't return because you had your own land to protect and were a recluse like himself. Odd behavior for a human, but you evidently weren't quite a "regular human" yourself.

Surprisingly, Sniper would be more unnerved, almost curious rather than angry or hostile with you. Despite the brevity of the encounter, you still managed to get closer than any other living thing, and you seemed to awaken his need for companionship, his desire which lay dormant for so long and memories of life with family-other living intelligent creatures he thought he'd forgotten. 

He could tell you were something like himself, something he'd felt for no prey before. A hunter, a slaughterer, yet He couldn't understand why you didn't rush him for the kill that night? The idea that you somehow were taken by him and spared him because of some illogical attraction made him blush for a moment before he forced himself to be realistic. You must've heard stories of how he could end the life of another in seconds, and he couldn't ignore the irritating disappointment as he realized you were likely only interested in saving yourself.

An eternity of looking over his shoulder, protecting his homeland, awaiting the moment other hunters would foolishly come along and try to sink their claws or teeth into him was all he knew for so long. Could he be blamed for hoping it didn't have to be like this forever? The only positive memories Sniper managed to hold on to despite how long ago it had been of the family he once knew a lifetime ago; it couldn't be a coincidence you awakened these memories. He needed you back, and he needed it before some other predator, someone below his caliber, came along and took you from him. 

Unlike all the other vampires, he wouldn't be captivated by your humanity or the life within you; Sniper sees you as something different entirely. Something so like himself, you weren't suited to being human; if he could turn you into a vampire, he could give you the life you deserved, life as his companion. He would protect you forever if only you would let him.

While you weren't technically a monster like he was, you were still a murderer, an animal, and it was fate that brought the two of you together. His destiny is to turn you into a creature of the night, and yours to remain by his side until the end of time. He didn't usually step foot on his land, but he did so with a clear mission in mind the night he set out to track you down.

A sniper would stalk you, observing from afar, remaining invisible, undetectable while watching, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions from revealing himself. Sniper attached this image of a better future to you, becoming fixated, thinking you were meant to be his mate. What was the point of being the king of the land without someone to rule over and protect? Vampires didn't go through the circle of life like humans as they didn't age, Sniper would believe his time as a lone wolf was ending, and you were meant to become his mate, metamorphosing his lonely life into something better than before.

Spy, the Mastermind

It wasn't often a hunter would make the mistake of trying to hunt down and kill a vampire as powerful as Spy. While he might not have a reputation for lethality like Sniper, Spy was endowed with different abilities upon becoming a creature of the night, yet certainly not abilities any less powerful. Spy's gifts were almost all psychologically fueled as a vampire, and while his physical skills weren't too humble either, he hardly needed to use physical brawn when killing. Spy could make you see things, take control of your mind, and force himself inside your consciousness until you were nothing but a backseat passenger in your own body. Depending on the target, he could get a peak into their memories and use them to show the victim their greatest fear; nothing made a meal more appetizing to Spy than adrenaline and fear in the blood before he feasted. 

Sometimes, victims weren't even fortunate enough to hold onto any self-awareness when he manipulated their minds. When he's really feeling spiteful, he will pick on the unlucky souls of those who happen to cross his path, getting inside of their minds and compelling them to carry out his will, manipulating their bodies like a puppet on strings. No one knows what happens to the victim's mind after Spy takes complete control, but the morbid carcasses on the sidewalks discovered the following day covered in gore keep most from wanting to know more.

If he wanted to, Spy could kill off his prey in seconds, keep his hands clean and remain undetectable. And when it came to no menial everyday feeding, this would sometimes be his method of execution; he might be on the thinner side, but given his immense power, he required a great deal of blood to sustain himself and couldn't go long without human's blood before weakness began to set in. But he was too proud and merciless a killer to deny himself a bloody spectacle every now and then.

Spy resented humans and any vampire he deemed weaker than himself, as in virtually all of them. He saw them as the kind of beings which clung to the coattails of stronger predators to stay alive, nothing but leeches and parasites before lions such as himself. He was relentlessly diligent and efficient when killing off hunters and wanted their deaths to be a mortifying ordeal.

Spy would leave his victims not only horrifically gored and splattered to stain the streets for days to come, but he would cruelly torment his prey by leaving their corpses in such a fashion the cause of death often appeared to be suicide or accident. As though they and their blood weren't even edible to him, good to mix with the dirt in the streets and nothing more. Only the most skilled hunters could parse through the carnage and viscera to identify his handiwork, a task far too grim for most. But not for you, though you had a greater motive to study and track Spy than most.

You were exactly the type of prey Spy found to be the least appetizing. You weren't a highborn socialite; you didn't have any kind of generational wealth or inheritance, possessing little more than the clothes on your back. Even to other humans, your type wasn't paid much attention, and neither were their corpses left in the streets in pools of their own blood, flies, and maggots already riddling the bodies. But even though you lacked money or culture, you made up for it with loyalty and grit, and you weren't about to sit by and let this monster get away with taking the lives of those you loved. 

Even if Spy didn't know who you were or that it was your friend's blood he painted the streets with, you were patient, and your vendetta gave you all the focus you needed to study him like a hawk. To remain vigilant until you're ready to go in for the kill and fight to avenge all the lives of the "scum of the streets" taken by the vile monster.

Knowing his attacks were psychologically centered, you honed your defenses the best you could, making your mind impenetrable. Snatching up every protective item you could use to get any possible advantage in the fight. By now, you were motivated by your hatred for Spy, he was a petty coward, fighting from a distance, lurking in the night, finding it more rewarding to watch his victims hurt themselves than shed their blood with his own hands, but you didn't dare underestimate him.

When you confronted him for the first time, he was taken back to discover he couldn't actually manage to get inside your head as he often could. You trained with humans you knew to be psychically adept, and though you were technically powerless, your training was about to pay off, giving you a shield from his prime mode of offense. Because of this strategy, the fight was painfully prolonged, you were better defended than any other, but your attack was far from as potent. As a result, neither your nor Spy's offensive attacks did much good against the other and were forced to exchange blows, waiting to see whose stamina would give out first.

Likely the looming threat of the rising sun would cause Spy to force himself to retreat, using the last of his strength to escape and recoup his stamina until he was ready to take you on again. While your vendetta gave you the power to fight, Spy fought back primarily because of his bruised ego. Who were you to come and challenge him like this? Some low-born nobody is trying to make a mockery of him! Someone needed to put you in your place, and Spy knew he needed to be the one to do it. If you thought you were so tough to put up a fight against a real vampire, he would need to make your fear overtake your hatred. While Spy couldn't get inside your head as he could with most prey, he could still easily detect your loathing, and for a patient such as yourself, he couldn't help but find it quite enticing. Perhaps he could work up an appetite for a street rat like you after all.

The next time the two of you met, you couldn't ignore how he clung to the shadows far tighter than before. Spy sulked just out of sight and maneuvered silently rather than facing your head, you forced yourself to ignore the sound of his voice inside your head, but now that you couldn't hear it, you felt far less prepared. Moments when you could listen to his voice, it sounded nothing like before; his gruff, confident voice softened into an almost gentle purr, sounding almost lullaby-like rather than hypnotically attractive.  

He would croon to you, "I can fight you like this forever; you know your defeat is guaranteed; why don't you be a good little human and sit still while I slit your throat? I can give you such a painless, swift death. Doesn't that sound good?"

Hearing him uncharacteristically faking compassion felt like a calculated attack you couldn't decipher. Nevertheless, you reminded yourself not to listen but to keep your face up, hand close to the level of your eye, ready to strike. Though at moments like this, when you could feel all your muscles almost painfully strained, prepared to attack, the silence felt all the worse. The silence was harder to deal with, but you knew it was a thousand times better than letting him get inside your head.

But Spy was ready to up the ante. Earlier, he remained out of sight, silent and like a ghost, but he grew bolder, making fleeting contact with you while your back was turned. Not enough to actually hurt you, but enough to send your paranoia through the roof. 

His fingers brushed up against the back of your knee; you whipped around but saw nothing there, only to feel your heart sink and skin crawl as you felt his hands draw higher, no matter how you tried to wriggle free and turn to see behind you, he was faster. 

A palm to the side of your thigh, his knuckle skimming the curve of your waist, you could even swear you felt breath against the back of your neck, altogether invasively close yet still out of sight. The juxtaposition made you whimper in fear. Your despair was rising considerably as you caught your reflection through the glass of a window only to see no one behind and a fear you hardly recognized etched across your own face. 

You felt so small, alone, and terrified, like nothing more than a child wandering out at night, afraid the boogeyman was about to get you. But his attacks were relentless; while you were stable enough to keep him from controlling your mind, he tortured you, showing you all the dead bodies of your friends slaughtered before now, their final screams echoing through the silent streets. The sound of his wicked laughter around seemingly every corner as you ran in circles. No matter how hard you mentally screamed, none of it was real; the fear took control all the same. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you passed a corpse, identical to yourself, under a street light, Spy standing motionless over the carnage. You couldn't help but freeze up, unable to look away from the sight before you, retching at the view. Your body was twisted grotesquely, blood leaking from deep gashes, hunks of skin separated from the rest of you, some detached entirely, yet some clung to your mangled corpse stubbornly. Your clothes were mostly torn off, hanging off your body in ribbons, dampened by your blood, and unable to conceal the entrails which peaked through the holes in your flesh and clothes. All the while, Spy merely stared back at you, smiling, bearing his fearsomely sharp teeth, his hands, and the bottom of his face coated in your blood which caught the light of the streetlamp. 

He extended a land in your direction, as cordially as a dancer inviting his partner to a pas de deux, bowing slightly as he beckoned you closer, arm still outstretched, but the sight of him drawing closer, no matter how subtly, was precisely what you needed to force your legs to work again and tear yourself away from the view before you.

Before, you were so blinded by hatred having every confidence it was enough to carry you through the fight, but as you tore through the dark alleyways, you felt utterly helpless. You didn't even consider falling victim to your own fear, but after a few more agonizing hours of this cat-and-mouse game, you could fight no longer and were about to flee. Exactly as Spy planned.  

There was nothing in your mind but fear, and it was all too easy for Spy to corner you, pinning you to a wall, your wrists in his, forced with crushing strength to remain fixed in place to the wall behind. Spy regarded the sight before him with malicious pride, the once fearsome, resilient vampire hunter shaking as you wept, "Don't hurt me, I don't want to die! Please don't kill me!" Tears rolled down your cheeks through your squeezed-shut eyes, your breath choppy, broken up by coughs and messy sobs. Yet, despite everything, Spy felt his heart throb slightly as he looked at you, so helpless and powerless, your fear more delectable than anything he'd encountered before tonight.

Spy released your wrists, and you instantly hugged yourself tightly, not daring to try and run, and for just a moment, he allowed you to catch your breath, enjoying your cute whimpers and struggling to regulate your frantic breathing. Then, he took your face in his palms, forcing you to look into the depths of his eyes, thumbs wiping away a few tears as he worked his hypnotic charm against your mind. 

"You're all right now, don't cry. No one will hurt you, not while I'm here. You're safe, so long as you obey me, understand? You've been out all alone all night. Are you ready to come home, pet?"

At some point, your eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips as he spoke, your anxieties lifting as you could think of nothing but the sound of his voice, nodding in agreement as you listened intently to everything he said. Allowing your mind to go blank, unable to think of anything but the man before you. All you needed to do was obey. Obedience would keep you safe, or rather he would keep you safe. Nothing in the world mattered other than following Spy home.

Spy knew he couldn't let you go after you managed to get away once before, and even if he did kill you upon the second encounter, it was still too risky. For all he knew, you were out telling all your little low-born friends how you managed to escape, how to keep his mind games at bay, and strategizing to fight as a pack the next time around, and he couldn't risk others gathering the courage to rise up against him like that. Still, he knew death was no fitting end for someone like you; he had something more intimate in mind for your demise.

From that night on, you were kept in his estate, a possession forbidden from leaving the castle grounds. You wore a collar around your neck, and your mind kept in a totally broken state. Forced to demean yourself and live out the rest of your eternity as an immortal servant to the undead demon you once hated more than anything in life. You were kept like his own little lap dog to amuse himself as well as his guests. Spy felt so proud of you; now there was finally something to show all of the lowly human hunters who tried to fight off vampires how to find a way to be useful after all. All while you smiled and fed from the palm of his hand.

[vouam]

just found this guy’s answer to a question on quora (“is misandry a problem in the US?” or something of that nature) and was wondering what your reaction to it would be. there are some points i wouldn’t be sure how to refute, though it’s certainly not enough to change my radfem beliefs lol. i’ll copy and paste it since i can’t send ss in anon

Q:“is misandry prevalent in today’s society?”

A:“I would say so.

Woman: doesn't want a child so she secretly aborts it.

Man: doesn't want a child and is forced to pay child support for 18 years while being ridiculed as a dead beat dad

Woman: my body, my choice

Man: has his genitals forcibly mutilated for no good reason at birth

Woman: free drinks at the club on ladies night

Man: there is no men's night. Drink prices increase to cover all the free drinks ladies get

Woman: oh please keep yourself safe

Man: forced to sign up for selective services (a.k.a. draft) at 18.

Woman: complains about low paying job

Men: 67% of work place injuries happen to men, 93% of work place fatalities happen to men. No one bats an eye

Woman: mostly automatically given custody of children no matter what

Men: you can see your children on the weekend only and pay for child support

Man: simply accused of abusing a woman and goes straight to jail.

Woman: beats the man senseless and if the man defends himself goes to jail. If he doesn't defend himself he still might go to jail or if he is lucky police will tell him to quit making a big deal about it. Has 1 place in the country to go to for sheltering battered men despite the fact that women are the perpetrators of domestic violence some 40% of the time. Woman, have countless battered women shelters to go to.

Man: gets raped by woman at gun point being forced to give oral sex and held captive for days. Society has a good laugh

Woman: gets raped and her perpetrator is rightfully punished. No one is laughing about it. Woman gets psychological help and all kinds of assistance from society. Also if she makes false accusations of rape, ruining a man's life, no one says a thing about it and she is free to go on accusing.

Men: penalties for the same crime as women are much longer sentences.

Men: comprise 60 some % of homeless population

Men: comprise of a majority of suicides

I could go on but it's only going to anger the feminazis more and more”

reading crap like this makes me so mad tbh, like i understand moids don’t have easy lives just because they’re moids but GOOD FUCKING GRIEF it’s like they just can’t fucking get enough of acting like society wasn’t built by men for men. 🙏🙏 sorry it just gets me upset. anyway love ur blog!!

Oooof this is a really great ask so thank you for sending this in! I guess I’ll approach this by answering each one individually (although I might repeat myself)

Men pay child support while women can just have an abotion

This is a very strange argument. Because firstly not every country has fully legal abortions. 47 countries only allow it for health reasons, 43 to save the mother’s life and 22 it is fully illegal. A lot of men like this seem to forget that there are other countries on this planet. I’d personally rather be the gender that has to pay child support for an unwanted baby. Even in the case of legal abortions, abortions are not easy to go through. It is mentally very difficult and can be an invasive procedure. Women are shamed for having abortions in every country, even the most ‘accepting’ places.

Circumcision

I am very against circumcision and this was probably his most valid point(?) But his point excludes the fact that FGM is practiced in many countries and cultures. And while male circumcision is usually done for religious reasons claiming its ‘hygienic’ and has little to no bad side effects while FGM can kill women and girls, and is done for far more malicious reasons that I can’t even begin to describe.

Men’s drinks night

Does he know the implications of what ‘buying a woman a drink’ means?? Yeah, I’d much rather be a man in this situation 😭

Drafted at 18

I am against anyone being drafted, and I’m against any military work period. But men made this rule because they deem men to be brave and strong - a stereotype designed to benefit them.

Work place injuries and fatalities

Most injuries and fatalities happen with manual labour, construction/factory work etc. Same stereotype as listed in the point before this.

Custody over children

Again, this happens due to a stereotype that benefits men. Women are ‘better parents/nurturing’ while men are not and should go out there and work and achieve their goals while women stay at home. Literally designed to benefit men. Also, a lot of men view the custody struggle as a privilege because they cannot be bothered to be fathers.

Going to prison because of a simple accusation and less abuse shelters for men

This is the craziest point because men do not go to prison over some random accusation pulled out from thin air. In order to accuse someone of abuse, you need extensive indisputable evidence. Even then, the police will not take it seriously or the defence will win the case for whatever reason. These are the hardest crimes to prove in a court and the statistics show this. Less abuse shelters for men because they are far FAR less likely to be a victim. Yes, its’s sad but this literally proves misogyny is a thing rather than misandry - because I know damn well which sex I’d rather be in this instance.

People laugh at male rape victims and women are given full support/legal justice

I addressed this in the previous point. Women are ridiculed and not believed/not given justice at an extremely higher rate than men.

Longer male prison sentences

Same stereotype that I’ve said before about being stronger/braver vs weak/nurturing. The stereotype was made to benefit them. Also this ignores that a lot of the time there are other aspects to a crime that result in a higher sentence given. For example 1st degree murder done for financial motive vs sexual motive.

Larger male homeless population and male suicide rate

I guess this is more of a question of why men are more likely to be homeless or commit suicide. Make suicide rate studies suggest it’s harder for men to admit mental health struggles/reach out for help. Again, it’s sad but the strong brave stereotype was designed to benefit them, like I’ve said before. Permanent homelessness is largely due to addiction, mental health, childhood poverty, financial crisis, loss of relationships to family/partner. These can all happen to women, except a lot of the female homeless population are trafficked, resort to prostitution, enter abusive relationships to escape the streets. In a lot of countries, people seem to think its 99% men that are homeless, but its usually not. You just typically only see male homeless people sitting/sleeping on the street in public spaces - that’s a more terrifying place for a woman to be compared to a man.

—

I guess this guy’s main problems is that he:

- Thinks USA/Europe/western countries are the only places that exist

- Can’t see that bad things that happen to men are actually a result of stereotypes designed to benefit the male population

- Makes up statistics in his head that aren’t true

- Has a crazy victim complex

- Can’t see that the women’s position in his scenario is actually worse

I hope this helps with any future debates and refutes! And I hope I explained myself well enough 😭

[burnitalldowndarling]

Can you explain the plant stuff that's going on in First Fllower? It doesn't feel like what's in Tri Stamp.

Hi there, nonny. That's probably because what I'm running on for my Tristamp fics is like 50% my own headcanon. I'm basically using Vash and Knives (and what little we know of Tesla and the dependents) to extrapolate how a whole species of plants might work. Take everything with a grain of salt given that a) I haven't fully worked it out yet, and b) Studio Orange will probably toss it all in a food processor during Season 2. But I'll try to explain. This might get long; today I have a grinding headache, so babbling about fanfic nonsense will take my mind off the pain.

Spoilers for Trimax and (mostly) Tristamp. I'll purple text the stuff that's only my headcanon. This gets long so...

Basic Plant Biology

A few starting points that are important to remember: 1) Plants are not a naturally evolved species, so they don't adhere to the biological rules of most modern life forms. 2) Plants are basically energy beings, which happen to have a "husk" of flesh built around that energy to contain and direct it. Just keep these things in mind as we go.

Plants come in three "types": dependent, independent-generator, and independent-gateborn. (The last two are just me giving a name to what we saw in Tristamp.)

(ID: a screenshot from the anime Trigun Stampede. A small human-looking blond child stands in front of a very non-human creature in a pink tank of some kind of fluid. The child's back is to the viewer; this is Vash. The creature faces the viewer. She is adult-sized, and generally looks like a nude, elongated human woman. In lieu of hair she has fleshy petal-like things on her head. Four larger petal things, each about 1 or 2 meters long, emerge from her back. It's difficult to see, but she is covered in strange, fractal skin-patterns. Labels on each indicate that the creature is a dependent plant, and the child is an independent.)

Dependent plants: What you see in Tristamp. Not remotely human-looking. Soulless and lacking individual minds or identity, though they seem to have formed a natural hive mind within the higher dimension. They have an interdimensional gate within them, but it's one-way. They have fleshy petals attached to their backs; we don't know what they're for. As far as we can tell, they have no need to ingest food/water, they don't rest, and they do not grow old (at least not as quickly as humans; all or most of the ones on the SEEDS ships were at least 200 years old). We're not sure they're "born," frankly, since Luida mentions at one point that plants are "cloned from an original cell," probably with some genetic engineering involved. They appear to all be female-sexed and have working female reproductive organs, though they clearly don't work much like human girlbits. (More on this later.) They seem to be designed for life in a containment unit -- elongated limbs and digits that look too frail to support their weight under gravity/non-fluid conditions, skin so pale they'd burn in seconds if they could go outside, etc. Built for captivity. Their minds cannot be contained, however.

(ID: screenshot from Trigun Stampede. The image is dark, taking place at night, and backlit by fire. Knives stands in profile. His face is in shadow. His heavily muscled upper body seems to be bare, or covered in a skintight white garment. His lower body is covered by a kind of draping skirt or robe. At the top of the garment, however, it's clear that the garment is unraveling into long chainlike objects, which have metallic-looking spear tips. There are sharp-edged protrusions all along the chains' length. Later in the series it becomes clear that the chains are coming from Knives' back, and he controls them.)

Independent-generators: Souled. Individual minds. Unknown if they have visible human sex organs, but they do have apparent human genders. This is basically just camouflage like every other part of their human appearance, and irrelevant to their actual role in reproduction. Like the dependents, generators have a one-way gate within them, which sustains all their life functions -- they don't need to eat or drink, don't need to sleep, and they can regenerate their own flesh. Like dependent plants, they have unique organs/appendages rooted in their backs. The independent-generators' weird organs are specialized generator sites -- kind of like biological 3d printers that can crank out massive amounts of whatever at speed, and maintain a mental connection to whatever they generate. (More on this later.) Independent-generators have these "tendril roots" from birth, but they don't come online until maturity. The maturation process can be painful bc the awakening roots tap the spinal cord and then the first tendrils tear their way out through muscle and skin; once the plant has gone through this, however, they gain a degree of mental control over their own flesh which allows them to reshape it and/or regenerate any damage, so that it no longer hurts. The tendrils are extensions of their nervous system and can even operate while fully detached from the independent's body, if the independent wills them to stay connected.

Independent-gateborn: Same as generators for most things, but they have a two-way gate within them, which (at maturity) they can physically manifest. They cannot sustain themselves on the energy of their gate, for some reason; they must consume food and water, and they have to sleep. Also, they cannot regenerate their own flesh, so their injuries can scar. Gateborn tendril-roots are made to transfer energy, not to generate. The gateborn maturation process is much less dramatic, to the degree that they might not even realize their power has reached a new level (until they accidentally open a black-hole-like gate to the higher dimension and kill everything in a fifty-foot radius, anyway). While gateborn cannot generate, they can reshape their roots and manifested gateways in any way necessary -- a "wing" that's really just a bunch of microscopic gates in a containment web; an orbital cannon, etc. Their tendrils (really just reshaping/lengthening of their tendril-roots, and very rootlike in appearance) aren't like those of generators -- much less versatile, but potentially infinite in length. Also, gateborn are so energy-costly to produce that they're extremely rare.

I believe Tristamp Tesla must have been a gateborn, because she doesn't seem to have been able to defend herself against what the humans did to her. So I headcanoned that after what happened to Tesla, the dependent hive mind decided to make sure all gateborn get created with a generator as a protector and provider. Which leads us tooooooooo...

Plant Reproduction: It's complicated

Dependents: We don't know what triggers it, but at times they asexually (or by some sexual process we cannot perceive) get pregnant and pop out a baby, or twins. Humans in Trimax were surprised to discover the babies (we haven't seen the twins' birth in Tristamp), so I'm guessing the gestation doesn't take long. I headcanon the dependents aren't so much gestating as generating these children -- i.e. instantly materializing them as ready-to-yeet fetuses, with none of that "9 months" silliness.

If so, then what the dependents are doing has absolutely nothing to do with sexual reproduction. Their uteruses are actually more like tendril-roots, just 3d printing babies instead of metal. This is why Trimax!Knives could "regenerate" in a dependent's uterus. And this suggests plants don't need sperm and egg, or even time, to make a baby. They need three things: energy, a spare soul, and the ability to generate matter. (All dependents can generate matter. Among independents, gateborn can't.)

Souls exist in the higher dimension, a place of pure energy, and right there we've got two of the 3 requirements. So plant reproduction requires two sexual roles: someone who transfers energy (including the soul, since we might as well consider the soul just another form of energy) from the higher plane, and someone who generates that energy into a new plant. Regardless of their gender identity or apparent human sex, "generator" and "energy transfer-er" are the actual plant sexes.

Note that I haven't made the above paragraph purple. I think that's canonically what we saw happen in Tristamp eps 11 and 12; Vash and Knives made thirty or so bouncing baby independents together. S2 is gonna be so potentially traumatizing lit!

So re this headcanon, I mostly just slapped my own label on the "generator" (independent-generator) and "energy transfer-er" (independent-gateborn) roles that we seem to see in canon. I'm also starting to think of the dependents as a third sex, mostly because the whole arrangement resembles how plants -- the botanical kind -- reproduce. Many plant species use multiple reproductive strategies. Some have male and female morphs which practice sexual reproduction. Some have those plus a third form which can fertilize itself -- a hermaphroditic flower. (Very simplified; there are multiple kinds of sexual reproduction and multiple kinds of hermaphroditic reproduction.) So Vash & Knives are the sexual repros, and the dependents are the hermaphroditic repros. Independent-generators can become cosmetically hermaphroditic if a gateborn awakens the ability to flower within them, but they cannot transfer energy without the gateborn's help, so their flowers are just pretty/sexy.

So plants have the full range of human genders, and three sexes. Buuuuut I am not a biologist so the count of sexes might not make scientific sense, so I'm going to stick to "at least two" for now.

(::record scratch:: ...I just realized Tristamp!Knives is canonically trans. Human genders don't mean much to him, but he's treating the dependents like a plant gender that he identifies with -- wearing his patterned bodysuit to look like them, showing off his "girlish" crotch, wearing his hood up so it looks like a dependent's closed bubble of petals. Hmmmm. I wonder why he doesn't also make himself look more femme? If he can literally rebuild his body as it's getting fried by the Angel Arm, he can grow tits and a vulva (and flesh-petals and whatever those hair things the dependents have are called). Maybe because taking on a femme appearance would also increase his human-adjacency, and I guess his species dysphoria? Given how he mistreats the dependents himself... is there some self-hatred, maybe? Maybe it's more accurate to consider him a plant-crossdresser, or plant-genderqueer...? Aaaand that's a meta for another day. Back to this long-ass essay.

To make plant children, the gateborn opens a gateway to draw energy from the higher plane. This energy manifests as a transdimensional flower, appearing anywhere on the gateborn's body. Gateborn can also bestow these on any other independents, and they'll be able to flower forever afterward -- it's a permanent change. Anyway, when stimulated enough, this flower collapses into a condensed packet of energy containing build instructions (basically DNA) and one (1) soul. This is the seed -- a potential child. The gateborn can transfer as many flowers into our plane as they like, but if no one uses them, the flowers and seeds dissipate harmlessly, their energy returning to the higher realm. Note that the gateborn can't actually generate a seed into a child, themselves, but hopefully their sibling or another independent will do it for them -- or, with gateborn tendrils, the soul can be transferred to any nearby dependent, who will generate a child within her body and then give vaginal birth to it. Again, this was what we saw in eps 11&12.

(Id: Screenshot from Trigun Stampede. The overall image is faintly blue because it's taking place inside a liquid-filled tank. Two dependent plants, their petals unfurled, drift in the liquid. There is a black tendril coming from offscreen, separated into several more, which has attached itself to each of their bellies, and they now look heavily pregnant. Both dependent plants have their mouths open and do not look happy with their sudden forced motherhood. The black tendril is coming from Vash, although he isn't doing this to the dependents voluntarily; he is under Knives' control.)

Most independents will happily raise any "siblings" that their dependent "mothers" produce. Generators and gateborn who produce children themselves tend to regard those as offspring rather than siblings -- even though there's no biological link between parent and child, as there would be with a naturally evolved species. The child's soul has been influenced by everyone involved in producing them -- which could mean anywhere from one to dozens of parents -- but that's it. Plant children rarely look anything like their parents, but they sometimes inherit personality traits, which might be nurture as much as nature.

Making a new gateborn is more complicated because a) the prospective gateborn's seed has to receive much more starter energy than usual from the gateborn parent, and b) this gateborn seed must be produced alongside a second seed, which is tethered to it; the two souls are connected on a quantum level. The generator parent(s) then must generate both seeds into children at the same time, so that they are "born together." Making a gateborn seed without also making a tethered twin simply doesn't work; the lone seed disintegrates, and that energy just returns to the higher plane, unused.

Plant Fuckin' (Bom chicka wtf?)

Plants do not ever need sex to reproduce. Sex is purely a matter of interest, pleasure, and intimacy.

Dependents obviously cannot have consensual sex. They have pretty human-looking vaginas per Trimax (yes, we unfortunately get to see it up close at one point, during an utterly horrific scene), but you can't get consent from an entity that lacks a self. Any attempt at sex would be rape.

As with humans, independents can have sex in a lot of different ways. When aroused, their plant patterns emit light and vibration in various harmonic resonances. Generators' tendrils do this, too. Simple physical contact between pattern and pattern, pattern and tendrils, or tendrils and tendrils, is pleasurable -- so what would look to humans like cuddling or heavy petting is actually them getting down & dirty. More complex resonances, rhythms, and vibration patterns are equivalent to human sex positions. Every individual has their preferences. It's probably not just electromagnetic stuff that's happening; I'm thinking there's some transdimensional string theory going on too? But I don't know enough about that to pull off Sexy String Theory. Anyway, when all the waveforms are hittin', the plants involved don't really experience an orgasmic peak so much as a really intense plateau that can last a while. Hours-long edging.

Then there's floral sex. Gateborn don't have resonating tendrils, but they get something else: they naturally produce flowers when they're really enjoying themselves. (They can summon them without sex, too, through concentration.) They have some control over it, but it's hard to maintain control when your literal back is getting blown out. They can also awaken the ability to flower in any generator; there's only a chance of seed creation if the gateborn has opened a portal nearby. The flowers are not "real" in the sense of actually creating an opening on the plant's body. They are like Shrödinger's Cat; they simultaneously exist and do not exist. Anyway, touching the flower feels good. Getting your flower touched feels good. Penetrating the flower, with digits or tendrils or tongue, feels good -- and resonating with that flower, in exactly the right frequency, is a transcendent experience.

Whiiiiiiiiich can kill you!

See, I figure that all plants are naturally prone to form hive minds. (Again canon, mostly Trimax.) Floral sex is the most likely time for them to accidentally "merge," or attempt to merge, with another plant or with the dependent hive mind. Plants enjoying floral sex will feel as if their souls have left their bodies... because their souls have left their bodies. The risk of that soul getting "lost" in the higher realm is slim, but never zero. If it happens, a gateborn might be able to retrieve the lost soul. If that fails, though, that plant ends up as just a funny-looking dependent. (On the other hand, what a way to go.)

Unfortunately, it's possible for independent plants to commit rape. Since they can use their tendrils to connect to another plant, they can sometimes merge with -- and overpower -- that person's mind. Then the rapist can destroy memories, or force their victim to glow or flower against their will. They can also disable any resistance by stabbing that person's roots with their own tendrils... (Sigh. As in episode 11.) Souls can also be lost during rape -- and they're a lot less likely to come back from it.

I still have elements that I'm trying to work out with this headcanon. Could one have consensual sex with a dependent while in contact with the hive mind, assuming the hive mind says yes? If two gateborn go at it, would they destroy the world when they cum? If somebody licked Knives' robe, would he feel it (probably! and then that person would die horribly). But anyway, that's all I have so far.

(Looks back at the ESSAY she wrote) Hoooooly shit. Sorry.

ETA: missed a paragraph that should've been purple.

[devil-doll13]

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper

Ciarán x Gn!Reader.

Tw: Gender neutral reader, also reader gets kidnapped by Ciarán so yeah, somewhat Dark Romance, Stockholm Syndrome as the reader is imprisoned/isolated, Angst, reader is very autistic coded idk it just happened the fic was doing whatever it wanted, also you die at the end… Sorry. This is a bit of new territory for me so please tell me if anything else needs to be tagged!

I’m out of the writing block gulag and I present to you, this… Fic. It sort of ended up being almost fairytale-like in nature because that just made sense for this character. Hope you enjoy.

Dividers by firefly-graphics

Spring

One day, you must run away. Far away, into the wilderness of your country, and leave behind you the pains of the day.

The first sprouts of the year have perked up above the soil, but they do not bloom yet. The grip of winter still holds life captive, a thick white mist blanketing the ground in an eerie shroud. The stone walls of your haunting ground jut out of the land like the teeth of felled giants, grey and silent. Then down yonder, the slabs of the stone circle stand guard like sentinels, murky in the fog. What they protect, who can say; or perhaps it is something you are protected from, as the elders in your village have told you.

You wander over the moorlands and clamber over streams and bogs, well loved and well travelled. From time to time you sit and rest upon a rock protrusion, humming some innsong, feeling some tension leave you, watching the day go by and the birds fly free, unbothered by your quiet presence. Later you think you had better make for home again - though it may be unwelcoming to you - lest you find yourself wandering the countryside ‘till the wee hours of the morning, led astray by visions in the mist.

And strange visions you indeed have.

The air is thick with some unknown energy. Alive, it seems, with the buzz of a hundred thousand watchers. All peering at you, the foolish little mortal, who has long frequented their mushroom doors and ancient tree carvings and hidden glades glittering in the sunlight. You, so unaware, so painfully human. You have known them for almost as long, though you remain but a trifling amusement in their eyes. Only one - one as alone and bereft as you - sees you truly and wishes to know you truly, more than any fellow villager would care to know you.

Then, he appears before you; or reveals himself.

His shadow falls onto you in the fading light of the setting sun, and you can do little but stumble into the bogwater and scream before this dusky knight and his dark mare are upon you. He reaches out and captures you in his arms, deathly cold like you imagine the inside of a coffin. You struggle in vain, but his grip is a vice, cutting and metal, hard. All goes dark as you imagine you have been killed; been taken by the reaper, perhaps God has come to destroy you for your wickedness, your sins and abnormalities.

It remains dark when you awake. But no longer are you held so tightly; you lay on soft, blanketing bedsheets. Adrenaline jolts you upright and you cry out in panic at the ghastly sight of your kidnapper, the icy fire hissing and flaring at the base of his neck, the only dim source of light to illuminate the room you’re in. He towers over you, imposing, stealing your breath from your chest.

“Please, please don’t hurt me…” You choke out.

The flames hiss louder, sharper, which only makes you more frightened, but he makes no moves to harm you. He gazes over your trembling form, seeming almost nervous in the way his gauntlets fumble. Still, you grimace away when he steps closer and reveals a small handkerchief, glowing. But it is not the fabric, you realise, but what is held inside.

Golden apples, their scent so sweet and intoxicating, and water from the clearest spring. He nudges you, though not forcefully, to eat and drink; still you have no choice, you think. As you bite into the fruit, you feel it numb your senses, and soon you give in to tiredness and fear and go to sleep, hoping and praying you had been dreaming; imagination wild and disturbed.

But no Springtime dream is this; you awake there, but mercifully warm. The soft bedsheets are still draped over you, lovingly arranged. A single source of light sits atop a podium, carved in a strange, circular fashion unlike any mortal design you have known. You sit up and see it is a glass bauble full of fireflies.

Your captor is nowhere to be seen. For a while you languish in your foreign bed and feel no desire to leave it, but fear of his return spurs you to leap from it, still dressed in your travel clothes. There must be some way out of this shadowy place, you reason, and with a feverish sweat and pounding heart you seize the flickering glass ball and try to navigate your way out of your room.

You cannot tell how much time has passed since you were taken here, for you are surrounded by grim, rocky walls overtaken by black ivy. It smells of damp moss and ancient dust, and the dark, cavernous space echoes your unsure footsteps back at you. Soon, you begin to suspect you must be trapped in the bowels of some dungeon, imprisoned here. Your heart, so heavy in your ribcage, sinks ever further into the abyss as you realise there seems to be no clear path back to your home. It is a labyrinth, your route only discernible by the uncanny murals etched across the stone.

You then feel a sudden itch urging you to turn back, to seek out the safety of your new cage, and the foreboding metallic steps sounding from the end of the gloomy hallway hastens your flight away from here. You hide underneath your sheets, as if a child again, and cry bitterly. You are not brave enough to face your kidnapper, nor are you willing to endure whatever tortures he will subject you to. You, so young, so full of life before, can see no way out of this all-consuming darkness.

Summer

After some further attempts, your hope fades into apathy, and you give yourself to grim resignation. You sleep as much as you are able, and dream of better things, of your village. Burrowing into your sheets like a worm into soil, feeling twice as wretched. You wonder if you are missed - or at least if your work is missed - or if your absence is noticed at all. For years you longed to disappear off to somewhere quiet and peaceful, but not like this.

Now you regret those wishes; your most desperate plea to God is that he spirit you back home.

Your captor visits to give you food and drink, though you have lost all appetite and eye the apples warily, remembering your sleepy daze when you ate them last. More unnervingly, he lingers in your room and watches you, sitting or standing. He does nothing to you, so eventually you start to feel a little safer in his presence, but no less anxious. Sometimes you try to speak to him, to reason with him:

“Who are you?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Why won’t you let me go?”

All met with silence. He has no head; you suppose he cannot speak. You are certain now that he is not human, and though his appearance is that of a knight, you see no heraldry to mark his allegiance to any kingdom. You begin to wonder if he is some vengeful or sorrowful spirit, accompanying you in death; or if he is the Devil, subjecting you to your own personal tormenting Hell. Your nervous thoughts quickly spiral out of control, and you toss and turn without rest.

Soon you tire of laying in bed, of the neverending sleep, and with your little light source venture out again into the labyrinth. This time you take a thread from your clothing - as worn and frayed as they now are - and use it to remember your way. You still fear what may happen should your captor meet you outside of your room; though he has been docile and calm for all the time you have known him, you know the nature of such otherworldly beings can be fickle.

Perhaps now the overworld has been cast in balmy Summer, the April showers past and gentle breezes blowing fresh, warm air into the fields, crops swaying. For an unknown amount of time, you have been stuck here, and seen no face but your own, reflected back at you in the Spring water. As far as you can tell, the only other being in this place that is not your captor is his beautiful black mare. She resides sometimes in a sort of rock stable, which you come across during one of your tentative trips outside your room.

In life, you felt an affinity for animals, preferred over other people, demanding and loud. She is rarely without her rider, but in those odd moments you creep into her living space and offer her your gilded apple. You braid her black mane and comb your fingers through it, all the while wishing you were back home and with the steady workhorses. She is like none other that you have seen in your memory, strong and dark and with wise, inquisitive eyes.

One of these times, you happen upon your captor doing the same. It is far too startling to see him dote on the mare as you do, with gentleness you have never seen him display before; or never cared to notice. You leave quickly and try to dispel the memory of it, so little does it fit your fearful perception of him.

Now you begin to study the mysterious murals by light of the bauble full of fireflies; simply for lack of things to do. They tell strange tales, but they all seem interconnected somehow, and though they resemble no Christian creation, you can still recognise their unearthly beauty. Over many trips outside to decipher them, you piece together the story of a knight who, seemingly having committed a great sin, is banished from the fair courts and made an exile, cast into the dark realm you now live in…

Only too late do you recognise the knight as your captor. It hits you unpleasantly, for you spent some time filled with pity and empathising with his plight. Both of you, prisoners of this place, and now he sees fit to chain you here in fetters alongside him.

Of course. No one, human or not, would wish to live in this awful place. Not willingly. An eternity of being alone, surrounded by this gloom and reminders of your own failures, would be unbearable. You understand this so keenly, for weren’t you alone before? Loneliness, A frighteningly human sentiment to associate with that terrifying figure. How could you sympathise with him, your jailer? You remember again the gentleness with which he tended to his horse, and feel disgusted, confused.

Your stomach ties itself into knots as you stand there, thinking and feeling too much. But then, you hear again the sound of footsteps approaching, and in panic you almost drop the bauble filled with fireflies. It is too close. You sprint back along your path of string, and there you see him towering over you, and flee fearfully back to your room to drag the great door shut and prevent his entry. Far too soon, you hear a great weight thrown against it that reverberates in your very bones. You recall that sword that lies by his hip, lethal-

“I’m not letting you in!” You cry, shivering.

He stops. There is quiet from behind the door.

For a moment, you feel an icy wave of terror wash over you. Have you overstepped? Will he force his way in now, and kill you for your insolence?

“I-I’m not letting you in until you agree to let me go.”

You swallow thickly, holding fast to your momentary courage; if you have dug your own grave by now, you may as well lie in it.

Silence. Then, you flinch as you hear the metallic step of his sharp sabatons, scraping against the floor. They become more distant and faint, until you are certain that he is walking away, away into the labyrinth to do God knows what, only you hope he does not come back to punish you.

You cannot sleep after that. Fear and hunger gnaw at your senses; you fed your apple to your captor’s mare. Miserable, you try distracting yourself by humming that innsong, but you find you have forgotten the tune. Little by little, your past life is slipping away from you.

When he opens the great door, you cannot stop him. But this time, he does not pass the threshold. You watch as this massive armoured being does the most unexpected thing: he kneels before you. His flames burn brightly, as deep a blue as Summer’s night sky. In his sharp, unsure gauntlets he offers up a bundle of fabric you quickly recognise as a collection of your old clothes, and between his fingers he clutches a beautiful red poppy.

This… You stare at him, unable to think or speak.

He does not move, only remains bended at the knee, awaiting your response. Your mouth is dry. Even you recognise this as a romantic gesture. Your captor is trying to court you, his own prisoner. You want to laugh at him for his absurdity; laugh madly.

“…I’m not taking it unless you let me out.” You say.

But he does not agree; or he cannot communicate without action. Still you know that your attempt to escape is futile, and that refusing the gift would ultimately be pointless. Slowly, hands shaking, you receive the gift. The fire on his neck hisses, flaring so suddenly it would’ve made you jump in the past. Now, you expect it. As a show of defiance, you still shut the great door on him, and he makes no effort to stop you. Soon, you hear his footsteps again, fading into the dark unknown.

You look down at your hands full of items. The poppy almost appears as if it will wilt in your fingers; in this place without life or light. You know now that it is Summer, and some sense of peace and calm washes over you. Now, with your old clothing, with a reminder of the overworld, you feel at strange ease.

Autumn

By now, you have adapted well to your new routine.

There is no sun, and the only way you can measure days or weeks is by the frequency of his visits. Each time he returns, he kneels upon his knee to meet you, offering a poppy. Each time you reject him, only you ask if he will let you go, or let you see your home again. He refuses, then leaves to resume his duty. Thus begins and ends the cycle of day and night.

Your suitor is not forceful, but he is persistent. He brings you other things, too, to make your cage more homely. It is the most comfortable and warm place you know in this underneath, catered to your fragile human body. You feel betrayed by your own emotions, as you find yourself touched by his consideration. You know you are a prisoner here, but somehow you see him in new light; with no others to talk to, you have started to confide in him despite your risky position here. He stays close and endures your occasional insults, and now you suspect he delights in your better mood, or at least in the idea that you have accepted your fate.

You speak, he listens, and watches you. Before, no one would ever do this, and dismiss you. All your flights of fancy, no matter how strange, are humoured in a way you never expected. When you express a desire to see something that will grow still in this barren place, your idea for a mushroom farm is fulfilled. It gives you something to do and look at; you adopt hobbies and pastimes you never considered before, too burdened with your work.

Still, you refuse his love. But as time passes, you feel less discomforted by his presence. His aura is calm and steady, reassuring like something ancient that has been in existence forever, like the stone circle you remember from your home. Then, as you feel more secure in your standing here, you leave your room again to explore the labyrinth.

Now when you meet him here, you greet him. You are no longer afraid, for you have learned with time that he detests to harm you. He starts, as if he is just as surprised as you yourself are. Together you sit in the dark, two prisoners at peace. When you feel tired, he extends a hand to you, offering to pull you up. You hesitate for a moment, remembering how he snatched you before. Still, you take it, and though it is cold it is not discomforting like you expect, but solid and cool. Without thinking, you hook your arm into his, though he is tall and dwarfs you. He leads you happily back to your room so you may sleep, and when you watch him leave you find yourself wondering what his hand, underneath the gauntlet, truly feels like.

After that, the connection between the two of you begins to strengthen. The barrier that kept you from touching now has seemingly been broken, and when you walk to and from your chamber it is together, arms linked as if you were both on a leisurely stroll. When you pretend that it is, it makes things simpler, so that you can forget the gloom that surrounds you. Better shackled as one than divided and alone, left to rot in this desolate place.

So your affection for him is not only of the heart, but rational. You make the most of your shared imprisonment. Perhaps you forget that it was he that dragged you down here, but as he caresses your face so lovingly, it no longer seems to matter. You learn then that his embrace is strong and enveloping, and see ashen skin beneath the armour which you kiss, falling further into the abyss, losing sight of all that you had sworn to fight against. He is, to you, as devoted and passionate a lover as any human man could be, and far greater still. You no longer have the willpower to deny your heart’s desires.

Perhaps now the outside world had begun to wither and die, as the seasons change and the leaves begin to fall, rotting into the dirt. You, a trifling mortal, should see fit to be buried with them; but your fate has been altered, changed now. Loving so utterly has transformed your heart and mind, your soul, and you still eat of the sweetest fruits and drink from the clearest spring, boons earned by your lover’s exploits. You now wish to become like him, without end. To become deathless, and forget, forget it all…

Winter

Still, you recall the sweetness of spring, the fruits of summer, the colours fading in the harvest, giving way to cold and deathlike winter.

This time, when you ask him once again to bring you back to your mortal world, it is not to leave him, but to experience these joys once more before you must let them go forever. To be his forever. He agrees, though reluctantly, as if you are terribly fragile and sick; though you feel so feverishly cheerful, as if you have gained new life and new being now. Only he bids you to hold on tightly to him, gripping your hands firmly in his as he holds the reins. You obey and bury your face into his travel cloak, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. The atmosphere shifts, the air is fresh, and you breathe in deeply, crisp and serene.

Your eyes, accustomed to darkness now, sting painfully in the light. Even though the skies are grey, sombre clouds brooding over the land, you see life once again for the first time in an aeon. Dying now - or already dead - to be reborn in the next life.

“I want to see my-my old home...” Your teeth chatter. He squeezes your hands that tremble against his chestplate. It is cold; not like he is cold, but from the bitter chill of winter. Under your shared shroud of fog, the grass is frozen, you see all around you the pale glaze of white. All is still, and the howling gale quiets in your lover’s commanding presence, pacified.

Together you ride across the moor, concealed by shimmering mist. Though you still recognise your country, you soon realise it has been changed. Then, with horror, that your old house has long been gone. All is replace now with new, alien structures and colours and brightness, a future so grotesque you are repulsed by it. You regret coming here now.

How many years have passed? The familiarity, the comfort you expected to find here, is gone. All that is left now is urgency and confusion and noise. Time has abandoned you as readily as anyone you have ever known; except for him, your lover. You no longer belong here, but to him, to his world.

You look at your hands. What is your essence, now not human, but also not like him? Now you feel that you wish to turn back, return to the dark and quiet of the underneath. But your folly leaves you untethered to your lover’s cloak, and in that moment his mare draws up and you slip off her back.

Then, you fall from the horse. You hit the ground.

As your body touches bitter soil and earth, you revert entirely; for you always have belonged to the overworld, a mortal fool. Your hands soon appear gnarled and withered, your hair overgrown and grey, as you age into a feeble elder, returning once again to the dying land. The last thing you see is that black gauntlet reaching out for you, as longingly as it did on that Spring day. But Death takes you first and steals you away, a cruel twist of fate that ends your story, as pitiful and as unfortunate as it had began.

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @flower-crowned-lady, @solmints-messyocdiary, @probably-a-plant-thing, @myers-meadow)

[longeyelashedtragedy]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

i was faux-tagged by @prosopopeya ! it was fun reading your answers!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

147...damn

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

434,625

3. What fandoms do you write for?

right now i only write "Men's Football RPF," but occasionally i have the desire to write in my previous fandom, and then never do.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

these are all a song of ice and fire/game of thrones fics from way back in the day

drabbles of ice and fire (does what it says on the tin)

captivated (arya/jaqen AU)

ends and beginnings (arya/jaqen university AU)

egg baby (arya/jaqen, au)

arya saves the day (arya/jaqen, the same university AU)

...as you might have guessed, i was THEE arya/jaqen BNF back then, lol. (if you have familiarity with the characters please note these are all AUs because arya is aged up in order to ship her)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try, i really do! comments just get my executive function so snarled up and i wind up forgetting.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

that's most of them. how am i meant to choose? it's hard for me to get through the end of "i tore off the golden branch" without crying even to this day. "like a song on repeat, nothing has to end" has some nice sad transfer window angst, and as i've said, the ending to "visited upon the sons" really slaps. is it cheating to say mare liberum?--that ending only exists on my notes app, and it's more "tragic" than angsty i guess.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh, hmmm. i wanna say... "5.VII." poor dejan, always fearing he'll somehow be alone and unwanted, not good enough, and in that moment at the end of the fic those worries leave him.

“So...that means...these things...These things we do together...” Dejan waits impatiently.  No, he’ll be honest with himself.  He’s waiting nervously.  “We’re just going to have to keep doing them forever, right, brate?”  Dejan lets go of the breath he’s been holding and as he does, he feels those wings again, stretching out from his shoulder blades and shaking themselves out and giving him an incredible lightness. He could float away right now with Šime in his arms. They could float away together.   “Yes. I guess we will.”

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really, i think they're so poorly written or strange that they just don't get much notice. i did see some "piquira" people back in the day talk about how my fic "soy loca con mi tigre," where shakira pegs piqué (RIP) with sergio watching them on video chat, was "weird." god, it must be painful to be that boring

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

unfortunately yes. i think it's usually pretty straightforward, but maybe not blunt enough to be grimy-hot. i don't like anything flowery. i wish i could write some m/f from time to time, but i have too many gender issues to feel comfortable writing about an AFAB body in a sexual sense most of the time. i am trying to channel this discomfort into writing a fic where jamie jamie jamie takes franko out clubbing to drown his sorrows and they pick up some Girls it is what it is!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i used to with my ex, we had an amazing AU where we crossed over a million different punk/metal/alternative musicians with some other rpf type people. oh, and not to forget--my first ever footyfics were crossovers, lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i sure have! it was shameless as fuck. however, justice was served because my version got more kudos and comments, so i didn't even bother to start shit. as they say, she thought she ate!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, into russian, chinese, and persian. i have enough fics translated into russian on ficbook to have my own Author Page on there--a point of pride, because i love ficbook :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, many with said ex! i would love to do a collab again--anyone? hit me up

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

idk? rakidrić, šejan, movren, xhakarteta RIP, JAVEY from AFI, cersei/jaime, aged up!arya/jaqen. am i missing anything?

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

maybe my really long 'ivan rakitić coming of age' fic, where the running plot is "what is he doing to keep himself at barça even tho he's out of favor?" as you can see, it would be very outdated, plus it was never intended for a wide audience

16. What are your writing strengths?

not sure :/ characters' emotions, good use of repetition and parallelism (i like to think !) and good use of rhythm. i also think i write a good ending. my bff said "the way you describe love and loss is unlike anyone else" which i thought was nice!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plot, pacing. good porn, being unfiltered (like--my writing feels too repressed lol)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

it has to make sense so it doesn't feel like tokenization or fetishization and can't be cheesy. the only time i think i was going to include actual multiple lines of dialogue in anther language (spanish), i then changed it so the fic didn't have it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

the first like, true established fandom i wrote for was a song of ice and fire/game of thrones. before that i wrote a lot of bandfic, but mostly for bands and artists who didn't really have any fic or canons. like, 98% of it was private for just me and my ex, but a few of the pieces still exist online here and there.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

i cannot pick favorites. there's so many reasons why something would be a favorite. and i have 147 fics on ao3! plus many things that aren't. plus my unpublished bandfic was some of my best writing. i don't know!

i almost wonder if it's "his return: a story of ghosts" which...i initially wrote as a fic but then changed it up. it was a "magical realism" au based on my undergrad senior thesis, lol. (the most common remark about it in my advanced creative writing seminar was "uh, it sounds like you know what you're talking about.") it's so imperfect, but writing it was SO much fun, and i had a whole soundtrack i listened to as i wrote, and then a few years ago i did a massive edit of it which was even more fun and it's still very imperfect and can't figure out why. i also don't like daniel's name but i named him after 2 ppl i knew at the time and now i can't change it, lol.

OH AND ALSO: granit's first flashback chapter in dangerous AU!

if you write fic, you are tagged, but i definitely tag: @new-berry @protect-daniel-james @fanficburner @purefractals @colorsofmyseason @bsaka7 @arsenalgbt AND ANYONE ELSE I FORGOT please do it if you see it!!!

[gemalia]

The delirium of post-midnight has set in. Once again, Freeza has consumed my thoughts, even as I stand in the twilight zone of my waking hours.

I've been thinking of his anatomy tonight. I've thought about it before, but because I am easily pleased by most headcanons, I have never been able to stick with anything concrete.

However, with the development of my own fanfic about him and Kuriza, I eventually reached the point where I have set versions of my own about his species now.

Like I have seen many people reiterate, I imagine the Arcosian to be a single-sexed species. There are probably different "races" within their kind as well, whether it be through varying colouration or bone structure. But most of them are dead. So. The only really relevant Arcosians with anatomy still intact to ponder upon are Freeza and Kuriza. Both of whom I do not imagine have many significant differences between their bodies, if any at all. This is because of my personal belief that Kuriza was born from asexual reproduction—a last resort of the species—while Freeza and Cooler were conceived in a more traditional manner.

I have digressed. What was I talking about again? It is officially morning.

The pressing question of Freeza's genitalia is not a major concern of mine, but I do not imagine he would have a penis or vagina like ours. I imagine he would simply have a cloaca that serves multiple functions, including for reproduction.

At some point in the development of their (very fractured) society, gender was probably constructed. Female, male, and everything in between and outside. To me, Freeza presents as male. Arcosians in my head universe existed mostly as multiple diasporas. There is no Arcosian monoculture to speak of. So gender presentation will vary between each group. But in the context of Freeza, who was "born into captivity from the seed of evil" on Abraxiya, which hosts a species that experiences sex and gender more like our society, it would make sense for him to present as one end of the binary.

I am retiring to bed. Tomorrow is karaoke with the strange and gay women where I intend to belt Bury the Light at the top of my lungs. I am the storm that is approaching.

[yanderes-galore]

May I request TFA Megatron with human reader with promts 43 and 59

Sure! This takes place in Season 2 where the Decepticon base is in a mountain. I assumed my prompts as there were no specific ones sent! Using Sumdac's assistant darling again because it's my favorite and an easy plot ;)

Yandere! TFA! Megatron Prompts 43 and 59

"Won't you be a good pet for me?"

"Are those friends of yours? Are they your everything?"

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Isolation, Possessive, Degrading behavior, Manipulation, Violence, Dubious/Forced relationship, Stalking sort of, Jealousy, Cybertronian/Human pairing.

Megatron never understood human connections. Why should he concern himself with such unimportant things? He has never been one to try and see eye to eye with an organic.

Although when you have to use humans to help you... you begin to learn a bit. For example, Sumdac is the human he uses to continue being the fearsome leader of the Decepticons while staying hidden. His other human captive is you... you're different.

Megatron never went into detail with other Decepticons about you. He just said you're in important, any other questions will be silenced. In reality he sees you as close to his spark.

This is a strange feat for a human. Megatron doesn't hold many anywhere near there. Yet you managed to catch his optics as an assistant of Sumdac himself. Megatron may not be where he is now without these two humans.

He'd think you'd be grateful for him sparing you.

Taking you with him was meant to be a good thing. You'd help him and his cause. It's an honor for him to keep you as an organic assistant.

What do you do instead? You wander to the entrance of the cave and stare ahead. You purposefully avoid him and the rest of the Decepticons. You only ever pay him any mind when Sumdac calls you for help.

For some reason Megatron feels irritated by this. Does he not like your disobedience... or does he feel insulted at your silence? Megatron still can't quite accept the fact he's soft towards an organic.

Perhaps he's just upset that you manage to have such control over him but ignore the effect you have on him?

That can't possibly be it....

Your attempts to ignore him only drive the Decepticon leader into deeper annoyance. He thought driving you into compliance would be much easier than this. He thought he could make you his obedient little pet easily.

It would be nice to channel that spark within you to his advantage....

Megatron never kept his optics off you for long. He even kept the other Decepticons away if he felt it was necessary. Especially Lugnut... who offered to threaten you into worshipping Megatron. Not a bad thought... but it would only scare you.

While watching you roam the secret hideout and listening to you occasionally talk to Sumdac, he caught some wind on what was causing some issues between you. Turns out you yearned for companionship. Human companionship, not his.

The thought angered Megatron when he heard unknown names fall from your lips. You still held hopes to see your human companions. In an effort to keep that hope you've refused to give yourself to Megatron.

Fine. He can fix that.

Megatron corners you one day in private. The mountainside was originally your place to heal. Now your captor, Megatron, decides to intrude just to yell and accuse.

"Are those friends of yours? Are they your everything?"

The Decepticon sneers, looking at you with annoyance. He shows disgust towards the fact you choose some other humans compared to him, Lord Megatron. You give him a look of confusion.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, human." You feel your heart stop when he reaches out and grabs you. "I heard what you told that scientist. Those humans are close to you."

"Um... yeah, they are-" You say nervously, hoping he won't squash you in his metal hand. Megatron narrows his eyes at you. You feel like you're angering the devil himself.

"Typical... you'd pick other worthless organics over me."

His tone has hints of jealousy. You'd find it funny that Lord Megatron is jealous of a human having friends. That is... if you weren't kidnapped and being threatened with being mashed into goo.

Megatron doesn't let you go like he thought. Instead he carries you back to the cave. You squirm in his grip but it does nothing against the large Decepticon.

"I know what will get you listening to me... do you know what will make humans roll over like one of those Earth pets?" Megatron grins, glowing red optics shifting to you. "Fear. I just have to remove those other humans of yours. It'll be easy, even Lugnut could do it. With them gone... you'll listen to every word I say."

You struggle more in his grip and give him the look of a scared prey animal. Megatron laughs as he makes his way to Blitzwing and Lugnut. You begin to panic as he calls them over.

"No...."

"Blitzwing. Lugnut. I need you to get rid of some humans for me." Megatron looks at your response. "They're causing my human to act up. I want the job done, I'll give you the names."

"STOP. I'LL LISTEN, PLEASE, LEAVE THEM BE."

Megatron holds up his other hand to stop his lackeys before walking off with you. Your defiance didn't last long when you realized blood would be on your hands. As expected of an empathetic human....

"There's that behaved human I was looking for. Reminds me of when we first met in that dreaded lab." Megatron muses, you say nothing in return.

"Just leave them alone... I'll pay more attention to you."

"I knew you'd come around, humans tend to submit when you threaten those close to them."

Megatron opens his palm, allowing you to sit more comfortably in his hand. He takes a metal finger and strokes your back, watching you flinch away. This is exactly where he wanted you....

As if to drive home the idea that he compared you to a dog, he rubs your stomach. You flush and glare at him. He treated you as a toy, he "loves" you in a way... but it's nothing you'd be used to.

"See the amount of control I have over you?" Megatron taunts, watching as you feebly push at his fingers. "Only I can do this to you... any other Con or Bot touches what's mine and I'll tear out their spark and spill their Energon."

You freeze at the threatening boom in his voice. Megatron pauses to bring you up to eye level with him. You suddenly feel very small...and very alone.

Megatron simply greets your fear for him with a cocky grin.

"Won't you be a good pet for me?" The Decepticon teases, waiting for you to make the obvious answer.

[outofangband]

Halloween Prompts: Menagerie

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

This is part of a longer story but I really wanted to have at least one Halloween piece!

It’s technically part of my present!Maitimo verse but it can be easily read as a stand-alone

CW: body horror/body modifications, implied medical abuse and experimentation, dehumanization

I have a headcanon piece that talks about some of the stuff here coming up and as always please feel free to ask more

The room was lit with torches lining the wall next to the door and the opposite one as well as strange, glowing clumps of a fibrous, veined substance that Maitimo could not name but that he had seen before in some of the lower corridors and empty halls.

Like all of the domain of the Lieutenant, this room has a sterile feeling as opposed to the grime Maitimo was used to in his cell. He was reluctant to call it clean. Certainly the surfaces and walls were spotless but there was too a harsh, precise atmosphere that made him feel exposed

And of course there was the actual contents of the room. The reason he had been dragged here.

The sleek, spotless bars that lined the spaces against the wall were more akin to cages than the cells below. Indeed, their occupants were far more akin to beasts than their kin trapped here. They were all elves once. That was plain enough. Many still possessed elven features. But unlike the orcs who wore the distorted, warped skins of the Eldar, the creatures in the cages had features added or modified. One young elleth sported dark brown wings. They did not appear functional, that is, she could not attempt flight. But they twitched and folded around her as Maitimo passed her cage. Another, and Maitimo could not have said what gender they once were, stood upright upon two thin legs, one arm poised against their chest, the other hanging loose at their side. They appeared almost elven but for the bright white patches of mottled skin that cropped up over their naked body, and their uncanny lack of movement

There was a dark haired ellon who struck him as familiar but getting closer was impossible. He was crouched in a dark corner of his cage, hands and feet splayed upon the ground at odd angles and looking very much as though he meant to pounce. A bowl of water had been placed just within the cage. Some had spilled around it.

Many if not most of the residents were positioned away from their barred doors, either curled up with limbs pulled tightly, making use of one or more strange appendages to shield themselves or merely remaining in what shadowed corners they could find within their cages.

Most were silent, unable or unwilling to speak. Eerie rustling, dragging sounds came from some of the cages. Another dark haired ellon made something like a low growl in the back of their throat. It did not strike Maitimo as aggressive however. The sound was more one of faint curiosity, almost a filler noise.

Many moved back into corners when the Lieutenant passed them though he did no more than glance at each one.

“It is an obstacle at times,” the voice of Mairon was deceptive as his fair appearance, conversational, almost friendly, “That all born here seek shelter from the light. Even when they might be aided by navigating it. We can alter fears, expectations of course. But it is one more obstacle.”

“What are these?” Maitimo broke the silence between them, “Why are you telling me this?”

The Lieutenant offered him an indulgent smile.

“Mm I suppose you among your kin have little interest in craftsmanship.” It sounded as though he spoke the second line of a statement but Maitimo could not have said what proceeded it. It was clearly meant to provoke him, to goad him into denying the craft or otherwise insulting Mairon. He felt no real satisfaction or victory in remaining silent, refusing to accept this bait.

If the Lieutenant was disappointed he did not show it. He was brilliant, elegant as always.

“Not up to speaking, Maitimo dear?” He says smoothly, “That is very well. I did not bring you here for conversation after all.” He walks to a table on the far opposite end of the room where another door leads further into his quarters. Maitimo lingers, not that he has much room of a choice, his collar is chained to the wall so he might walk the length of the room but go little further. The chain itself is unbearably cold to the touch. Maitimo supposes this is in an effort to prevent him harming himself with it. He watches dully as the Lieutenant gathers up several items from different drawers. The sounds from the other inhabitants are louder now, easier to distinguish between.

Mairon walks back carrying under one arm an oddly shaped satchel.

“You can watch me feed them!”

(Anyways,,, I hope this is ok. I’ve been feeling bad about my Angband writing lately. If anyone has prompts or feedback or anything I’d love it)

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 6 ~ It's been a long day

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Genre: Fantasy whump

Written per Whumptober 2022 prompts

CW: captivity, hallucinations, gender confusion, dry-heaving, implied intimate whumper, creepy whumper, parental loss 

WC: 3699 3708

AN: Um, yeah, I fell behind on this one, sorry! I also... wrote a lot of words. So, this is another break chapter, a little more of a break than the last one. Just some more character development and we get to meet Resh's sister! Isn't that exciting? :D

Resh

Cold. Why was it so cold?

Resh shivered, pulling his arms up to his chest. One of them didn't feel right, but he couldn't keep hold of the thought in the twilight state he currently resided in. All he knew was he couldn't get warm.

"Resh, wake up. Wake up!"

Was someone calling his name? He wanted to sleep. No, he wanted to be warm.

His wish was granted, although not in the way he wanted.

Warmth raged through his body in a flashfire of agony, originating from a point of impact near his ribs. Near his kidney, more like. Resh screamed, curling up in the fetal position as stabbing pain ricocheted through his entire body with no signs of diminishing. His skin flushed, then chilled, then flushed again. 

Resh sobbed. Gods, please make it stop. Please let it stop. Please. 

Bits and pieces of conversation filtered through the pain, although his mind couldn't grasp the meaning.

"Well—wasn't moving!"

"Just lying here..."

"today. Has to—"

"—dying?"

That last word registered. Oh shit, he didn't want to die. He couldn't. Someone… someone needed him. He sniffed, tried to control his breathing. 

Something touched his face, and he flinched away, but the contact persisted–gentle, soothing. A hand, a small one, brushed his hair back.

"Resh, you need t’ get up. You need water, and t'see old man asshat."

Resh opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. No tears fell, and he suddenly became aware of how dry his mouth was. Focus, he needed to focus. What had the voice said? He cried out again when something nudged him in the back.

"Do you want him t’ die, dickhead?" the voice in front of him chided. Then, under their breath, "Swear to gods, nothin but a bunch of dimwitted fucktards down here."

An indistinct mumble from over Resh's shoulder. He didn't catch the words but heard Carr's reply. It had to be Carr; nobody else spoke like him down here.

"Mother's cunt, give him a fuckin minute, then."

Resh choked on a laugh, despite the waves of pain it caused.

"Thank fuck," Carr muttered. "If you can laugh, you can get up."

Yeah, Resh was thinking that was gonna be a no. He shook his head.

"For fuck's sake. Pretty sure I'm alive and you're half-dead cuz you gave me your shirt. And some other stuff. So now I owe you. Again. Now, let's sit up." Carr's voice was firm, and he slid his arm under Resh's to help, giving him no choice.

Dizziness washed over him, along with—surprise, surprise—even more pain. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, leaning heavily against Carr's small frame when he moved to brace Resh's body.

"Good, that's good," Carr said.

Was Carr encouraging him? Without even cursing at him? Maybe he was dying. A wave of heat washed over him, followed by a chill so severe his teeth started chattering. His body felt strange, his and not his at the same time. 

Not his would actually be preferable right about now.

"Now, up. I'm gonna stand on your left side, fucktard over here is on your right if you need him." With that, Carr ducked under Resh's left arm.

The guard ended up having to help. He was just too weak, and Carr too small to support all his weight.

The room tilted and spun, even worse than before, and he heard Carr grunt when he put too much weight on him. Resh twisted his head to check on him, his apologies no more than croaks from his dry as fuck throat. Carr was injured too, he remembered. Carr—Resh started, trying to focus as he looked at him. At her? Carr's hair was longer, falling to her shoulders instead of in short, choppy pieces barely a hand-length long. It gave him, her?, a distinctly feminine look.

Resh reached out with his splinted right arm, trying to touch what shouldn't be there. "When did your hair grow so long?" he whispered. If it was real, he couldn't tell.

Carr jerked her head away. "What're you doin? Don't turn into a fuckin creep on me now! And my hair isn't long. It's the same as it's been since I got here."

"It is?" Resh asked, feeling very confused. He overbalanced when he tried to study Carr's features, and the guard on the right sighed, steadying him.

"Let's get going already," the guard said.

Carr moved, and Resh hobbled along, using her as a crutch. The bricks lining the hall swam in his peripheral vision, and the floor felt unsteady, but Carr kept him moving. It hurt less now, the pain subsiding into a dull ache beneath the freezing, or burning, layers of his skin.

"Sorry," he grunted, having put too much weight on Carr again, causing her to squeak. Him. Fuck. "You look like a girl with long hair," he explained. Then, Resh shook his head; Carr couldn't hear his thoughts. Could he?

"What the fuck?" Carr asked, stopping in his tracks. "Why in the name of any ratass fuckwitted bastard on this godsdamned planet would'ya say somethin like that?"

He stumbled at the sudden change of pace, and the irritated guard walking on his right steadied him by grabbing his splinted forearm. What had been numb exploded in a burst of bright, shocking pain. Black spots danced in front of Resh's eyes, and his hoarse scream ended on a gag as his stomach twisted.

Carr yelped when Resh's knee buckled. Even through the blinding agony pulsating through his arm, he knew he was hurting Carr and pushed away from him. Luckily, the guard on his right caught him before he fell.

Unfortunately, Resh had nothing to throw up when he dry-heaved because he would've loved to puke all over that asshole's uniform. He swallowed convulsively, trying to suppress further episodes, and eventually, the pain in his arm subsided into a throbbing ache. It felt almost exactly like when he had first broken it. That was just fantastic.

"Carr, you okay?" Resh asked when he could finally speak again.

Carr didn't answer, too busy lambasting the guard with the worst language Resh had ever had the pleasure of hearing. He just couldn't understand how Carr was getting away with it.

At least, not until Carr said, "The prince’ll roast your asses over the Reaper's pit of flames himself if you dumbfucks don't get Resh to that godsdamn quack of an herbalist. Mother's tits, how hard is it not t’ hurt someone for ten minutes? Fuckin pieces of shit."

Marcus wanted him to live, huh. It was a joke; it had to be a joke. The prince had been doing his damnedest to kill Resh ever since he'd tried to run, it felt like. But no, he knew better. Marcus wanted him to suffer. It was hard to suffer if one was dead.

They started moving again, although one of the other guards replaced Carr as his crutch. Where was his staff? Carr was limping down the hall in front of him, and Resh wanted to give it to him.

"Take my staff, Carr," Resh mumbled. He was so tired he almost cried when they reached a set of stairs. How was he supposed to climb those? “I can’t…”

"You don't have your staff," Carr threw over her shoulder. "And we have'ta go upstairs t’ see Mieste. It's evenin, you've been lyin in your cell all day."

"Thirsty," he complained. And no wonder, if he hadn't moved from the floor of his cell since… since when?

"I know," Carr said, starting up the steps behind one of the other guards. "You gotta climb t’ get some water, though."

He couldn't do it; he couldn't climb these stairs.

The guard forced him to try, anyway. Resh's leg gave out on the first step, and he fell, barking his knees on the hard stone. Tears sprang to his eyes, or tried to, at least, blurring his vision. He didn’t have the strength to rise again, and embarrassed heat burned his cheeks when the guard all but carried him up the stairs and into… into Marcus' torture chamber?

Resh took one look at that awful plant covering the wall, its frilly tendrils waving in the air, and pulled against the guard's hold when he dragged him closer. But his efforts were weak and only hurt besides. He turned into deadweight instead, refusing to go towards the chains, towards more torture.

The guard cursed as he lost his grip, and Resh fell to his bruised knees with a yelp. He started to back away awkwardly but froze in place when Marcus approached. Since when did the prince wear glasses? Resh shook his head.

"What's going on here?" Marcus asked, his voice gruff.

Resh felt paralyzed, unable to answer even though he knew the price of not responding. But then he saw Carr's face peek around Marcus' body. Red-gold hair fell in waves around her face, and her eyes held worry, concern. She wasn't restrained, from what he could tell. He wondered if the prince even knew she was there. Resh tried to tell her to get out with his eyes, not wanting Marcus to notice her if he hadn't already. She was too pretty. Marcus liked the pretty girls.

Carr stepped around Marcus. "Resh? You alright?"

Fuck! She had spoken. "Carr, get out. Get out now," Resh begged.

"What? I can't. I'm supposed t’ help Mieste," Carr said, her brows drawing together. "The table's right there." She gestured to the chains. "Let's get you fixed up."

Resh shook his head, panic rising. He couldn't… he couldn't take another round of that pain… he couldn't. Marcus came closer and reached down, messy gray hair falling across his face. Gray hair? Resh blinked, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. He flinched when a cool hand brushed his forehead.

"He's burning up. Hmm, probably a reaction to the toxin. I told Marcus it was risky using that particular plant," gray-haired Marcus said, pushing up his glasses.

Had the prince gone insane, talking about himself in the third person? Normal Marcus was bad enough; Resh didn’t want to know what an insane Marcus would do. 

"I think he's… seein things," Carr said.

"Hallucinating?" Marcus asked. "That's not good. Hmm, I think I brewed up an antitoxin. Where did I put it?" He turned away, walking through the wall with the plants and disappearing.

Resh grabbed Carr's leg. "Carr, get out while he's gone. Marcus… he… you're a girl, this is not a good place to be a girl. Please."

"Fuck's sake, Resh, I'm not a fuckin girl. Get offa me." Carr extricated herself from Resh's hold.

"You don't understand," Resh said, desperation limning his tone.

Carr knelt beside him. "I understand perfectly fine," she hissed. "Quit fuckin sayin shit like that. I'm a boy, do you hear me?"

Resh couldn't look away from her, no, his hazel eyes, from the flecks of amber swimming in the green. A boy, that… that was good. So why was Resh's heart beating so fast, why was he still so afraid?

"Here, drink this," Carr said, offering him a cup.

Where had that come from? Resh couldn't remember. He took it, drinking without even bothering to wonder what it was.

As long as it was wet, he didn't much care.

~~~

"I want to see my brother!" a high-pitched, child-like voice shouted.

Orla's voice. Why was she so upset? Had someone said something to her again? Resh would set them straight. As soon as he could pry his eyes open.

A male voice, too soft for Resh to catch the words, responded to Orla. That wasn't right. There shouldn't be any male voices around his sister. Resh had worked hard to get his family into the tiny flat they currently occupied. There was a lock on the door and everything, although that certainly hadn't come with the room.

"I'm not leaving until I see him," Orla replied stubbornly.

Resh smiled. His sister was usually sweet and easy-going, but when she had her sights set on something, she could dig her heels in like no other. He tried to roll over, but his body didn't respond. He grunted his disapproval. He must've worked too hard last night, pushed things a little far with his magic.

"Resh, you awake?" another familiar voice asked.

Familiar, but… Resh couldn't place it. That voice didn't belong in his flat either, which worried him. There were too many people he didn't know; were they in trouble? About to get kicked out? He was pretty sure he'd paid for the week, but he couldn't… he couldn't move his arms.

"It's okay, Resh."

A hand brushed some hair back from his face, and Resh turned into the caress automatically. There was a sharp intake of air, but the hand didn't withdraw. Resh finally found the strength to open his eyes.

"Carr?" he asked, struck by the way the lantern light flickered in her eyes. His eyes. Fucking shit, what was wrong with him?

Carr withdrew his hand, and Resh squeezed his eyes shut to hide his disappointment. When was the last time anyone had touched him with any sort of tenderness? The thought made his heart ache.

"What's fuckin wrong with you is you've been out of it for days. Please tell me you're back," Carr said plaintively.

Resh opened his eyes again, shock rolling through him at Carr's tone. Had he said that out loud? 

"I mean, I'm fuckin tired of playing nursemaid. I'd rather go chop rocks or whatever with the other lowlifes than spend another day watchin over your half-dead body."

Carr sat back on his heels, and Resh realized he was laying on a cot. He jerked his arms again, but they were tied down. Bits and pieces were coming back to him now. Carr's arrival. The thorn collar choking him. Waking up in the torture chamber. Pain, all-encompassing, nerve-searing, never-ending pain. He shuddered, his throat closing up. Carr screaming as Marcus plunged the dagger into his leg.

"How's your leg?" Resh asked, latching onto that last memory.

Carr reached over him to untie his hands. "Had worse cat scratches. Why you worryin 'bout me, anyways? You're the one's been hoverin ‘round the veil."

Resh snorted. Of course Carr would refer to a stab wound like that. He tried not to think about the kind of life he had lived to feel that way. Instead, Resh tried to sit up.

Tried was the operative word because he didn't dare use his right arm, and his left arm was weak, shaking under the pressure he attempted to put on it.

"Sorry," Resh said when Carr helped him up. He massaged the fingers of his—he looked down—newly splinted right arm, pressing his lips together when he realized he could feel them again. Just a little but—he could've cried. Instead, he looked around the room.

His cot was wedged in the front corner of the herbalist's workroom, so he was able to lean back against the wall, the stone cool against the bare skin of his back. The entire wall opposite his cot was covered in cabinets. Cabinets on the wall and cabinets underneath, holding various medical instruments and potions in the process of steeping. Resh’s eyes skipped over the wooden table at the center of the room, where Marcus had almost carved his eye out.

"Guess you're stuck as a nursemaid for a little longer," he said, half by way of another apology and half to distract himself.

He suppressed a grin at the scowl Carr gave him. Instead, he took the cup Carr offered with a suitably serious expression, sniffing at its contents.

"Just water this time," Carr said, sitting on the floor and rubbing his right leg. He stopped as soon as he noticed Resh was looking.

It was hard not to say anything, but he knew Carr wouldn't want him to ask again. You didn't admit to vulnerability on the streets. That was as good as announcing you were easy pickings. Voices raised in the other room again, and he was reminded of what had woken him up.

"Please tell me that isn't my sister out there," Resh begged.

Carr bit his lip.

Fuck. Orla shouldn't be here. Resh had only missed one visit. But something in Carr's expression made Resh ask, "How long have I been out?"

"Umm… for a bit," Carr said, looking away.

Well, that was evasive as fuck. Carr's shoulders were hunched, and he was pointedly avoiding eye contact. Resh sighed, contemplating pushing the issue. Did it truly matter, though? It wouldn't change the fact that his sister was here. Or that the voices were coming closer.

Carr jumped to his feet as the door slammed open. Resh's sister stormed in, followed closely by Marcus, Mieste, and a guard. Shit.

"Oh, thank the gods!" Orla exclaimed when she caught sight of Resh in the corner. "Reshie, why didn't you send word? I've been worried sick about you."

Resh grabbed the blanket at his waist, pulling it up to his chin. He had no shirt on and no idea what bruises or other injuries remained after the undisclosed amount of time he’d spent incapacitated.

Then, he drank in the sight of his sister. Orla was wearing a long-sleeved blue dress embroidered with little white flowers, appropriate for early spring, and even had proper boots to go with it. Her head was covered with a pink scarf, but Resh could see brown fuzz covering her scalp where it had slipped. She had gained more weight since Resh had last seen her, which softened the sharp lines and hollow spaces her illness had left behind.

Sharp brown eyes assessed him, and Orla stamped her tiny boot on the ground. "You've been ill, haven't you? I told the queen something was wrong."

Resh's mouth dropped open. Orla had spoken to the queen? Then he glanced behind her to where Marcus was leaning against the doorjamb, looking irritated and bored. Mieste ignored everyone and went to his workstation, the scrape of pestle against mortar filling the room. The guard stood at attention on the other side of the door.

Motion caught Resh's attention as Orla advanced. Carr twitched from where he stood next to the cot, then looked over his shoulder at Resh, a question in his eyes.

Should I let her come closer?

Resh stared back. Gods, please no. He couldn't tell his sister to stay away, but he also didn't want her to come close enough to see any lingering wounds.

Carr gave the slightest tip of his head, then stepped forward, placing a hand on Orla's shoulder to halt her progress. "Hey kid, it may not be safe for you t’ be this close. His illness may still be catching."

Orla's eyes widened, and she looked up at Carr, who only stood half a foot taller than her at most. "Are you helping take care of my brother? Is he going to be okay?"

Letting his hand drop, Carr looked over at Mieste, then back to Orla. "Um, yeah, and… yeah, he should be fine. Right, Mieste?"

"Huh?" Mieste looked over his shoulder, pushing up his glasses with purple-stained fingertips. "Right, that's right. Danger has passed now." With that, Mieste turned back to whatever concoction he was making.

"Thank you for helping him," Orla said to Carr, her eyes shining.

Resh's lips tilted up as his sister threw her arms around Carr's waist, squeezing him in a hug as tight as Orla's frail body could manage. Carr's whole body stiffened but Resh watched him slowly relax. Watched as Carr awkwardly patted his sister's back when she sniffed into his chest.

"No problem, kid," Carr said, his voice a little strangled.

Finally, Orla stepped back, dragging her sleeve across her face to wipe her nose. "Resh, when you're better, you'll come to see me again, right? When do you think, a week, two?"

Oh no. Resh's heart sank, having no way to possibly explain his absence to his sister. A quick glance over Orla's shoulder revealed Marcus glaring at him. "Um… I don't know how long it will be, La-la. Things have been… pretty busy here. And I'll have a lot of work to catch up on."

Orla's face fell, and she poked her lower lip out. Resh had to remind himself he wasn't lying, per se. Instead, he was protecting his sister. It was a shitty difference, but it was all he had. 

"But don't worry about me," Resh hurried to add. "I'll be fine, and I'll try to… write." It was the best Resh could offer her, and he didn't even know if that much would be possible. He fought his tears away, not wanting to show his sister how upset he was, how much he missed her. "How are you? And… and mom?"

"Oh, I'm good!" Orla said brightly.

Too brightly. Resh tilted his head, trying to listen to the meaning between his sister's words.

"The queen told me I have to attend school at temple now that I'm feeling better, so that's been fun. The temple on the grounds is so pretty, and they have so many books…" Orla trailed off, twisting her hands.

The grounds. A pretty temple with lots of books located on a place with grounds. The queen.

"Why are you attending the temple on the palace grounds?" Resh asked, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Of course, he knew the answer, but he still hoped he was wrong.

Marcus moved away from the wall, placed his hands on Orla's shoulders. She looked up at Marcus and smiled sadly.

That sadist's hands on his sister was possibly the most horrifying sight Resh had ever seen. And with Orla looking up at Marcus like that… like Marcus had been kind to her… like she was grateful…

Resh swallowed, hoping he wasn't going to be sick.

Marcus smirked at Resh when Orla looked away, obviously relishing the news he was about to impart.

"Your mother is dead, and your sister is a ward of the Crown. The queen took a liking to her, and now she's training to be a lady-in-wait."

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