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thekinkyleopard · 9 months

Text

Caught’cha

A Zilya x Tassian Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fic, Forced Induce, Dom/Sub, Bratty Sub,

Edging, slight CNC

Description: Tass has been invited to stay in the Vampire’s den. Zilya is trying to remain a good host, but they find the little Jackalope snooping in places he doesn’t belong, and something inside Z snaps.

Based loosely off a prompt by Mochisnz

Author’s Notes: oops another ship. Can you tell what inspired these two ? 🫠🫠🫠 It’s Baldur’s Gate. Ok. Zilya is a product of my unhinged addiction to the new RPG. I needed a vampire OC because god damn does my blood kink run deep. Anyway! I hope you guys love these two 🫠 @aller-geez owns Tass and did the art as usual!

In the night, crept a tall figure, pale salmon eyes scanning over the landscape as if it had a deadline to meet. They did. Zilya was on the hunt, starving after neglecting their thirst for an extra day. It was hard to go out and hunt between campers and nearby hikers. They often found the best times to hunt were the colder months, when people were less likely to be wandering their property. There was a scent, one they’d been trailing for a minute, stalking through the tall unkempt grass of their land.

Under the glowing moonlight, they stay silent as they crept through the brush, eventually the smell of irresistible crimson liquid was getting closer and closer. Then, they spotted them, horns in the distance. More than likely a young buck of sorts. Zilya licked their lips with anticipation, if they lucked out, it would be practically bursting with blood. Almost salivating at the opportunity, the vampire squatted down, keeping those diluted coral eyes locked on target.

Waiting a few moments, making sure the creature wouldn’t stir, Z leapt from position their hands immediately grasping hold of the velvety antlers that essentially was their target. They both collapsed to the ground in a struggle.

“Hey what the fuck?!” A voice cried out upon being tackled. Zilya, realizing sooner rather than later, they were gripping a…hybrid creature of sorts? They scrambled backward, eyes widened with shock.

“Thee…is no buck? What’s this?” Tilting their head with confusion, scanning the creature in front of them. Seemed human, but adorned long ears like a rabbit, and horns like that of a deer. Zilya was properly perplexed, having never heard or seen such a being.

“Yeah, no kidding, I’m a fucking person, you creep! Why’d you do that??” Brushing the dirt off his sleeves, and rear end from having been tackled into the ground, he narrowed his eyes sharply at the practically frozen being in front of him.

“If thee a person why does’t thou look like an animal?” Looking at the other up and down, his dialect threw the jackalope off but he instead crossed his arms over his chest and looked back at the other with a questionable expression.

“You sure ask a lot of questions for someone I don’t know,” throwing out a bit of attitude as a deflection from how absolutely terrified he felt inside. Who was this person? Why were they out here? Why were they manhandling deer at 1 in the morning?

“And thee sure aren’t keen to answering thy questions of thine owner to this property,” Standing straight again, Z also crossed their arms in reflective defense.

“W-what?” Blinking with surprise, it was news to him that anyone owned this hunk of junk land, he couldn’t even remember seeing a house nearby just an old abandoned creepy castle.

“This is my field, I own all 28 acres of this land around the Castle…what? Did thy think it was just free ??” Zilya scoffed at the other, rolling their eyes a bit at the audacity of this land intruder.

“Kinda yeah….well, my bad, I’ve been staying in a tent nearby I hope that’s….cool?” Scratching the back of his shoulder nervously, looking around for an easy escape INCASE the other wanted to turn violent upon learning of his squatting. Never letting his guard down.

“Cool? Thee sleeping outside?” Zilya raised a thin white brow, almost unnerved to hear that someone was just, sleeping outside in the grass.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal though right?” Tassian shrugged his shoulders, it hadn’t been the first time and it wouldn’t be his last, he was like a traveling nomad! Yeah! Not homeless, that sounded….well, pathetic.

“Well if thee need somewhere to sleep, and swear not to drive a stake through my chest…might I offer a stay in the castle til thee find other arrangements?” the tall figure spoke with elegance, almost high society with a slight accent.

“You’re the stranger offering me a place to stay, usually isn’t that the first warning sign that YOU’RE in fact gonna kill me? Also why a stake? That’s oddly specific…” he stepped back one single step, squinting his eyes again.

“Uh, no reason just a metaphor,” Z quickly recovered. If they told the man now, it was bound to scare him off and truthfully, it would be so nice to have company for once. “Zilya Fae, nice to make thy acquaintance,” sticking their hand out for a proper greeting.

“Tass,” the dark haired male responds apprehensively taking the other’s hand in his own. The strange being’s skin was cold to the touch, it caused Tass to shiver unexpectedly, pulling away he looked the other up and down.

“Okay….let me just grab my things and I guess you can just lead the way?” Already starting to walk in the direction of where he was camping out at. Z following close behind.

“Sounds swell, shall I help thou carry thine things? I do have some decently working hands,” they came across a small clearing of grass with a tent, and backpack set up in the middle. Tass walked over to it and began to deconstruct the tent, slipping the parts back into his bag. Rolling up the tarp, and clasping it to the bag it self via straps and buckles.

“No need, it’s all made to be carried in one heave,” Tass shrugged his shoulders simply, he had made sure his setup wasn’t too complicated, or risk losing things when having to leave in a hurry. Together the two walked in awkward silence before reaching the front of the castle, they stopped. Tass was feeling apprehensive, unsure of this decision with how darkened the area was. Clearly no electricity.

This place was strange, completely out the ordinary. Half of the large “abandoned” castle was dilapidated, crumbling at the seams, and the other half was almost unscathed. Possibly a fallen tree or bad storm had taken down the left hand side. Tass looks over at the tall, dark, looming presence in front of him. Does he accept the invitation into the other’s home? His down stretched pierced rabbit ears twitched with caution, it had been so long since he hadn’t slept on the ground….it might be nice.

“You’re sure you’re not going to rip my skin off and wear it like a Halloween costume later?” Raising a questioning brow, taking one step back, with the strange, almost grey skinned, being leering at him. Zilya couldn’t help but let out a genuine chortle of laughter. Almost unsettling how quickly, and exponentially the sound was that escaped them.

“Of course not…I don’t celebrate Halloween,” their attempt at a joke that only caused Tass to hesitate within the doorway as they were making their way in.

“Alright well….can I use the bathroom? It’d be nice to shower,” trying to brush past the awkwardness of the entire conversation, and situation, he figured he could at least get clean before settling into the scariest place he’d ever stepped foot in.

“Sure but, let me start up the broiler, least thee want a cold sho-…” already making their way toward the large hall before he was stopped with Tass’s sudden response.

“I do,” Zilya paused, he turned and looked at the Jackalope with a puzzled expression.

“Thy guest…wants a cold shower?” Nodding in response before they could finish the thought, Tassian interjected.

“Yes, I do,” repeating himself once again, orange eyes looking Zilya up and down for any more context clues of what kind of person he was up against. Truthfully, the Jackalope just didn’t want to burden the other more than he was, but also, couldn’t be left alone in this place nor have the courage to follow the stranger any further into the darkened domicile.

“If that is what thee so wish, I shan’t be the one to cease thine actions…do as thy will, please,” they nodded toward him now. Tassian thought this whole gentleman’s tone was strange, also probably full of shit but they hadn’t seemed to drop the act yet, so he couldn’t help but wonder if this really was just who they were.

“You’re a weird man….” Shaking his head slowly back and forth in bewilderment. He’d never met someone so, peculiar before.

“Oh, I am not a man, but thank you,” Zilya responded almost too casually. Tass couldn’t put his finger on it, there was something off about this person, and not how they identified, everything they were.

“You’re not?” Asking for clarification on what exactly he was confronted with.

“No, I do not identify neither male or female, I simply am Z, or Zilya, nothing more or less,” Tassian nodded with understanding, Zilya just seemed to intrigue him more and more by the minute they spoke. He’d never met someone who didn’t resonate with either male or female before. How interesting.

“Noted, alright then Z, you strange…being you,” floating his hands around like the other was made of magic or from another planet, which made the vampire’s lip turn up into a delighted smirk. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” setting his stuff lazily onto the ground, he rustled through it, picking out a pair of pajamas and his toiletries bag.

“Enjoy!” Neither of them acute enough to realize Tass had never been here before, and it was a relatively gigantic place to be inside of. Tass turned around and waltzed his way through the hall way. After a while of walking, Tass only started to realize, he’d forgotten directions.

He’d also, already made a few turns in hopes his instinct could find where he was going. It couldn’t. Well, he WAS inside a giant cool castle, why not explore then? Creeping around the halls silently the Jackalope turned a corner and noticed a very large stone chamber. “What’s this?” He wondered out loud, stepping through the intricately carved archway. Ivory vines and roses littered the surfaces of trim along the walls of the area, and one large black coffin that stood out, in the middle of the room. “…a coffin?” At first, Tass didn’t think much of it, maybe Z just slept in a coffin. The other was off putting, awkward and weirdly beautiful. It didn’t make sense, until it did.

“Mother fucker….didn’t invite me to be nice, they’re trying to eat me!” He stumbled back, but found himself hitting a wall. Or was it? Zilya quickly brought their hands up to his shoulders and gripped them tightly.

“This doesn’t look like the bathroom to me,” a much darker, and deeper voice than the one he’d met before, echoed from behind him. Tass froze immediately within the other’s grasp.

“I uh…I…you…” taken completely off guard he could speak, like the cat had gotten his tongue.

“I, uh, me? What?” They chuckled after mocking the stuttering jackalope. “That I’m a Vampire? Yes, I am, and thou also, snooping where thee don’t belong,” clicking their tongue with disapproval, there was one thing Zilya didn’t like, was those who couldn’t ask or mind their own. So much for secrecy.

“N-no! You didn’t tell me where t-to go!” Trying to excuse himself of blame. It was true, he didn’t know where to go, but also, there was an easier way to fix that problem besides venturing further into the unknown.

“Thou didn’t think to turn around and ask, hm?” Z turned their head to look up at them now, fingers gripping the prey’s chin tightly.

“I-…..got lost,” his legs buckled, this strange new aura, almost like he was conversing with a whole new person. Was this Z? Or was this the vampire? Were they one and the same? Or was he just manipulated?

“No, thee went SNOOPING,” snapping from their once calm and cool composure, their fingers curled inward as they clasped around the other’s delicate jaw, squeezing it with the intention of showing the other they could easily crush his jaw into dust. Though they wouldn’t. There were two sides of this creature, one they weren’t so proud of, and who they presented to be. They couldn’t control the rage, the bloodlust, the power.

“Get off my ass will you?” Trying to brush the incident off as an accident, and trying to appear tougher than he really was. Truthfully, it was a no big deal Oopsie poopsie moment, but Zilya wasn’t going to let it go. There were morals, principles one should stick by. Snooping someone’s home in the guise of not knowing better, as an adult, was crossing a line.

“No, you need to be punished,” Z stated firmly, towering over the slightly shaking Jackalope.

“W-?! PUNISHED?” What did they mean by that! Surely not….killing him right?

Without a word more, Zilya gripped the other’s throat tightly in their grasp, dragging him over to the coffin, shoveling the lid aside. It crashed to the floor with a loud “Bang” as Zilya crawled inside and forced the male into his lap.

“H- Hey!” Blushing profusely, his heart racing and his body reacting the opposite of which he thought it might be, ya know, being forcibly grabbed by a monster and what not. “Let go! St-stop! Don’t suck my blood!” Protesting loudly.

“Hah! Suck thy blood? I don’t need to do that to teach thee a lesson, please,” ridiculing the other for even suggesting such a low level way to show who’s in charge. “I have other ways of making thee squirm, hm?” With their free hand, Z pulled a single feather out from the inside of their jacket. The feather was black, sleek, that of a raven or crow. Tass watched as it slowly came to his face. “Now thy is going to count to ten, hm? Don’t fuck this up, or thee will start from the beginning,” they gently brushed the softened material against the other’s nose, already twitching and twisting to fight off the sensations it cursed him with.

“N-no! Stop it!” His face tickled, he tried to squirm and fight it but being trapped within Zilya’s grasp was unmatched. His nose already flexing and stretching against the feather.

“Count to 10 without exploding,” Z responded calmly, ignoring the other’s fussing and fighting as they dragged the feather across his ticklish flesh.

“Hnnn…n-no!” Swiping his face back and forth but only making his situation worse by helping the feather move across his nose to a faster pace. He could feel the walls of his nostrils filling up, that familiar itch in the back of his throat, the tingle of movement as it threatened to overflow.

“The faster thee cooperates, the sooner thy will be out of this predicament, now count,” the vampire commanded sternly, never letting up on their affairs. Eyes fixated on every twitch and jerk of Tass’s defiant nose.

“……O-One h-H…” it built up, Z continued to tenderly brush the feather underneath the smaller’s twittering nostrils. His breathe caught in his throat, and he swore it was going to be the end of him, but he had to hold up. He sniffed softly, trying his best to contain any mess from escaping down his face.

“Now two,” Z’s velvet like voice almost brought a sense of comfort now as it softened with each accomplished count. It was a double edged sword, while he hated it, he also found himself reacting positively, his mind frenzied with lust. Yet, he would die before admitting it. He continued to fight.

“T-..hAh-…Hi’—…Two…” he struggled against that one, the feather splitting and tickling upward the little hairs living inside those holes. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it.

“Three,” the other continued to encourage him through it, hand delicately wafting and swiping the feather over the very tip of Tassian’s struggling face. All the while, their whole body turned hot, enjoying the sight of this far more than he would have drinking the blood of some random animal tonight. No, he could hold off a few more hours so long as this could satiate something inside of him.

“Th— TS’GKNT!!!” There it went, decorating the vampire’s busy hand in glistening droplets of projectile saliva. Zilya swallowed the urge to moan by biting their lower lip.

“Start over,” clearing their throat, Z’s eyes narrowed, and that domineering attitude was back, almost impossible for Tassian to get a grip over.

“Pl-please…” he tried begging. He couldn’t do it, there would be no way to survive this. He snuffled loudly. “Sndf…”

“No, I didn’t ask thou to beg, I asked thee to count,” again, they were stern, the words harsh as they spoke them. Tass sighed, trying to catch his breath, before soon he found Zilya returning to their motions. It drifted over his nose, cheeks and chin, only for it to get dragged back up, and under his tormented, leaking nose across the top of his shuddering lip. A glimmer of moist sheen reflected off the edge of the feather now making them both aware that Tass was unable to keep up the act much longer.

“Nnnnh..O-One,” Tass tried once more, he would at least put his best foot forward.

“Good, now two,” Pressing him further, Zilya rapidly flittered the top of the softened object against Tassian’s nose, fast and uncalculated.

“Tw-………..” he paused, his breath caught and he hicked slightly before catching himself. His jaw slung open in response but quickly he snapped it shut and swallowed the feeling of it about to burst from within him. “Two,”

“Three,” impressed by the other’s will and strength to keep himself at bay, but Zilya was determined to get him to crack again. Their groin burning from want and need at the sight of him struggling against it.

“Thre-..three Hh’ih…” the sweet sound of each hitch and hick was only furtherly driving them mad, the silence between each one filled by their labored breaths.

“Aht don’t crash now, come on, four,” Pushing the other further down the rabbit hole.

“Fah….fahwr SNndf,” maybe if he could just inhale some of that ick that threatened to leak out, he could manage to get himself to the count of ten. A loud snort emitted as he tried to clear his sinuses, but only managing to stop himself from pouring out all over his own mouth. He was still determined, he could do it.

“Five,” Tassian heard the next number and then his resolve faulted, wavering in uncertainty that he could manage, because as the word fell off Zilya’s lips, the jackalope found his body trembling just trying to keep himself from erupting loudly.

“Fiiiiii-..ve..” struggling to get through it, he managed, releasing a breath that wasn’t almost a sigh of relief.

“Almost there, half way, come on,” Zilya was feeling prideful in between the carnal lust they were also feeling for the sneezing hybrid. Look how far he had come, just 5 more to go.

“S…sih’ S’ih…S’HI’TSCH!” So close but yet so far away as the jackalope felt crushed under the weight of his own inability to just hold it in. He sniffled loudly, rubbing the back of his nose with his hand trying to erase himself of this painfully ticklish predicament.

“You were so close….come on, start over,” Z clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth before commanding the other to continue.

“Please…I’ll give h’Hi..you anything…” the vampire laughed, fully, it boomed and bounced off the stone walls. The little jackalope just didn’t get it.

“This is what I want, to see thee suffer under the fate of my hands….watching thy face exhaust itself as I relentlessly tickle it…marvelous and delectable, the perfect punishment,” pink eyes seemed to shimmer with lust, almost mistakenly similar to how someone could look when they were starving. Was this really the same person he’d met outside?

“How?!” Tassian furrowed his brows, sick of the shenanigans and riddles.

“I’m a vampire, little one, I crave the power…” Z’s lips pulled into a cocky smirk, one that made Tassian a mix between extremely turned on, and outwardly annoyed.

“You’re si— H’GXNT!” Bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, this one came out unexpectedly, so half way through, Tass just tried to simply stifle it from happening, sick of the other having this type of control over him.

“Tsk tsk, don’t hold them back like that little one, you’ll only prolong your punishment, now get back to it…” their voice dropped and suddenly Z was incredibly serious once more. “One,” the word dripped off his tongue like a shard of ice.

“One..” Tass repeated without hesitation now, the sound of Zilya’s voice not giving him much an indication he could win the argument he wanted to start. Determined to best the vampire at his little game.

“Two”

“T-two,” the Jackalope continued to count along, orange eyes staring dangerously back into stone cold pink ones. His body shuddered involuntarily.

“Three,” Zilya continued.

“…….”he paused, Tass physically swallowing the saliva that built up under his tongue that was desperate to release. His sinuses so incredibly full from being played with.

“Three??” Zilya furrowed his brows, gaze darkening as he forced the feather to tickle the inside walls of Tassian’s nostrils, a line of snot embarrassingly trickling down his lip.

“Three….” His voice shook in response, half because he needed to sneeze so incredibly bad but also from trying to avoid consuming his ick. Zilya’s eyes fluttered, noticing the mess enough to grab at their own sleeve hem, and wipe the glistening substance clean for him.

“Four,” voice gentler as they started to coax the other through it. They also, wished to see the little Jackalope beat the odds. It was fun, was it not? They were having fun.

“F-f-Four…” Tassian closed his eyes momentarily, just trying to focus on the in and out motion of breathing deeply, hoping it would get him through the rest of this god forsaken punishment.

“Five,” Zilya noticed the other was powering through as much as he could manage, and that could only mean one thing for Z. Up the stakes. They needed to see more suffering, Z brought the hand that wasn’t busy tickling Tass’s nose, to his thigh. Gauging the other’s response before sliding upward with his slender fingers, gripping the area.

“F-Fih…ve….” Tassian’s breath became more unsteady as Zilya’s hand started to creep up his leg. A mixture of pleasure and discomfort now, shit, he’s gonna be so embarrassed when Z finds out how hard he is. He blushed, bright red.

“Six,” Z’s volume steady, consistent, while they reached, and unzipped the jackalope’s jeans. Soon after, Tass’s pants button was popped open and a cold hand slipped inside. He gasped.

“H-Hah…Si…x” he stuttered and whimpered, his eyes glazing and glossy as he struggled to get a hold of himself. His nose and throat tickled, burned and agitated his comfort, body writhing and wiggling beneath the hypnotic vampire. Why didn’t he just run? Simple. A fantasy come true, he never thought he’d have? No. Simply he wouldn’t allow the other to see him beg any further for mercy, lurching and twitching underneath the other. No, this was now a challenge between him and the beast. One he thought if he could win, would humiliate the vampire from ever trying to best him again.

“Seven,” Zilya’s silky tone caressed him, his palm gripping hold of Tassian’s hard, leaking length and began to pump inside the space of his boxers.

“S’heh’ven,” he almost lost it there, if he wasn’t concerned with how good Z’s hand felt on his cock, he might be able to push away the insistent urge of needing to sneeze. It wasn’t so lucky. He was faltering, bursting at the seams trying to keep himself steady. He just needed to get to ten. His eyes teared over, drops trickling down reddened cheeks.

“Eight,” Z’s movements turned fast, fingers squeezing tightly around the other’s throbbing shaft, slipping the pad of their thumb carelessly around Tassian’s tip.

“Ei—ght,” his eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to focus through the force of the next two numbers. That was it. Just two. He could make it through two more numbers.

“Look at you, you’re almost there, ready?” Z praised the man for his resilience to get through it. Upping the ante, Z gently wafted a soft breeze of air from pursed lips, allowing in a cooling sensation to stiffen, Tass’s numbing nostrils. This was the edge needed to get those sensations back. All the while being stroked and edged.

“H’ah!!” Tassian almost forgot he was in the midst of a punishment, it felt so good. He hadn’t been touched in a very long time, and something about the forcefulness of this creature only made his cheeks hotter. He was losing. In a matter of minutes he went from determined to putty in the creature’s hands.

“Not yet, hold it back…Nine,” Zilya commanded, their own voice turning strained as they had to fight the gnawing desires to swallow the jackalope hole, or at the very least pierce his fangs into the flesh of his softened neck and have many different ways with him.

“Nih….Nine….” Almost there, then he would be rewarded, yes? For being so good, for being so brave?

“Goooood boy…now Ten,” the long drawn out praise, like music to Tassian’s red tipped ears. His body shuddered, his glistening maw open wide. There was no chance of catching even a single atom of oxygen through his stuffed up nostrils. Who was this? Who had he become? The pleasure was too great.

“T-t…Hi’h…TEN—K’TSCHIEW!!” He almost completed his mission, almost reached a perfect ten, but the feather assault proved to be too much as it teased and tickled him. Out shot a loud sneeze in place of a cry for pleasure, his body shaking violently. He spritzed the vampire across their face, whom could only roll their eyes in lust as they felt the cooling sensation across their flesh and watched the other release all their pent up energy. Zilya squeezed their palm tighter around Tassian’s now leaking member.

“Ohhhh, y’know? I’ll give thee that…thou at least made it to ten, before breaking apart,” Z chuckled with a toss of their head, hand never ceasing to please the little hybrid. Bodies smushed up tight within the space of the coffin.

“Hnn..hah~” he moaned with labored breath, it wafted across Zilya’s intently watching features.

“Does that feel good?” Licking their lips predatorily, yet with a softened tone of voice. His eyes glancing swiftly between the other’s face and bare open neck. It wasn’t something they could help, just pure instinct, but they fought it back.

“S-so…hah~ good…” Tassian peaked open with those gorgeous orange orbs and Zilya almost felt themselves soften, almost. The instinctive animal inside of them, burned hotter.

“Good…” watching the other get closer and closer to the brink of losing it before, right there, Z could see it. Swoop, just at the moment Tass thought he could blow his load. Zilya had stopped all motions and allowed the other to suffer at the loss of a much needed and long awaited orgasm.

“H-hey! Wa-wait! You can’t just….” Suddenly cut off.

“This was a punishment, remember? Thee wish to cum? Then earn thine reward with good behavior,” Zilya smirked, confident, smug. That fucking bastard.

“Good behavior? Earn it? You asshole!” Shoving the other away from him, trying his best to scramble out of the coffin. “No! I will do no such thing… I don’t need a reward from you!” Sticking his tongue out and clasping his hands at his hips.

“We shall see then, won’t we?” Z sat against the edge of the coffin, confidently licking the tips of his wet fingers, tasting the jackalope on his tongue, pink orbs watched the other carefully.

At a stand still, the two stared each other down, Tassian blushed profusely watching the other sip his pre cum off their hands. Neither of them moving from position. “So….I can stay here still right?”

“Would thee still like to? I am a monster, after all,” raising his brow in an almost challenging response.

“I never—“ cut off again.

“You didn’t have to,” Zilya almost looked hurt, looking to the side. This was why they didn’t say anything at first, about being a vampire. People always thought the worst of them immediately and never truthfully gave them a chance.

“Look, so long as you don’t go sucking my body dry of all its nutrients, I don’t care that you’re a vampire, okay?” Tassian clasped his arms across his chest, hip hooked with a hint of attitude. How dare the other think that he was immediately judging him!….well…he kind of did. It was fair. His demeanor softened. “And no more using that shit…” pointing aggressively to the feather. “Against me!”

“I can promise I won’t drink thine blood…..without thy permission…..but the other request? Denied, I’ll punish thee as seen fit,” winking at the other with a cheeky resolve. Tass rolled his eyes but couldn’t help feel his heart skip a beat with excitement. What on earth was happening to him? Was he seriously crushing on a creature of the night? This was a new low, even for him, but he might as well get settled with it. If he was to be staying with him after all.

To be continued….?

Author’s Notes: OOOOOOOO towards the end I decided I was gonna make a second to this. 🫨🫨🫨 so stayed tuned for that eventually. I have so much stuff I have to accomplish and post, I’m very behind but enjoy this of our new babies! 🫨🥰 @aller-geez owns Tassian and did the art!

21 notes · View notes

sp1tkink · 2 years

Note

hey, sorry to ask, but could you do a sdv elliot x fisher reader 🤭 if not, that’s alright! i don’t wanna take your time from ya

of course! :D, im not too into elliot’s story but i’ll go based off of what i’ve seen and heard,,,

pairing: (sdv!)elliot/(gn! fisher!)reader

wc: 1.09k

cw: spoilers to elliot’s heart events, mutual pinning, fluff, gender neutral (no gender specific terms), use of platonic nicknames (bucko by willy), established friendship, friends to lovers

wiping your brow and setting your fishing rod to the side, you marveled at your small bounty of sea creatures. having caught three fish, combined with your walk through cindersap forest, plus your stops to greet your neighbors had worn you out.

an exasperated sigh flew past your lips as your legs dangled over the edge of the dock, you knew your work wasn’t done yet. turning back to check the clock on willy’s storefront, you were met with a certain long haired man walking by, gazing off at the water. “OH- my, goodness!” you yelled before chuckling nervously, “you scared me!”

elliot chuckled back softly before his gaze shifted back to the sea, “i thought you’d be used to seeing me by now.” he hummed, “i’m afraid not.” the man playfully chided much to your, just as playful, dismay.

you’ve been living in stardew valley for a while now and built up a decent relationship with elliot. he’d shown you around his cabin numerous times, played his piano for you, and invited you to a book reading he’d hosted in the local museum/library in town. he’s supported you too! in his own ways, of course.

he based a couple of scenes in his books on you, inspired entire books off of the interactions you’ve had, complimented you on your fishing skills along with other things of the sort. you enjoyed it, the brief gleam of joy in his eyes when you tell him you liked a song or excerpt he wrote, it made you want the dream of living in pelican town to never end.

you hadn’t realized it but in the midst of your thinking, elliot had walked away. maybe this was why you weren’t used to him, he’d always been disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. you knew he had his own schedule, but visiting his house was always an option, so you’d do it later.

standing up, you decided to pack up your things and head home, briefly stepping into willy’s to sell any fish that you didn’t need to donate to the junimo at the community center. on your way home, you made a took quick detour to the saloon only to be greeted by elliot once again. you ordered and found a seat with some familiars of the right-corner table of the place.

elliot was spewing his usual poetic nonsense which you couldn’t help but laugh at his slurred tone caused by the strong wine he often drank when he visited. sharing one last chat with clint and willy, you decided to focus more on your food, not wanting to be fatigued the next morning. though, you couldn’t help but notice the not-so-subtle glances elliot was taking from across the saloon.

given you’d been doing the same thing occasionally, you didn’t think he was too. admittedly you were a bit flustered and this didn’t go unnoticed by willy or even ‘the romantically oblivious’ clint. “you should talk to him.” he stated bluntly nearly prompting you to spit out your food. “it’s not like you don’t know the boy, and not to mention we all saw you leaving pierre’s with those flowers.” willy added.

you swallowed your food and grinning defeatedly seeing as your purchase earlier this week outed you. it’s not like you weren’t going to give elliot the bouquet, you’d just been building up the courage to.

“you’re the same person who told me to go for it with emily? seriously? i find that hard to believe.” clint grunted, taking a sip from his stein of beer. “okay, well, don’t act like that. you got with her didn’t you?” you huffed back, waving your fork around before hiding your face behind the glass of your wine—that elliot had bought you earlier that night—in even more defeat. “which is just the reason you should go and splay your feelings to elliot, bucko.” willy prodded matter-of-factly, moving the bottle away from your face.

standing up, you placed a pouch of gold on the table. “i’ll do it. tomorrow. and if i don’t! i owe you both double this!“ you announced catching the attention of sam, sebastian, and abigail—who’d just been a room away—causing them to snicker at your seemingly random announcement.

willy and clint laughed in amusement at the bet, “we’ll take it, i could always use a little extra cash, you haven’t stopped by to process any geodes lately.” clint chortled. “i won’t even owe you a silver dollar!“ you guffawed, snatching up your bottle of wine and heading to the door.

the next day came faster than you’d expected, it almost made you wish you never stepped foot out of that bar with the thought that the night would have gone slower if you hadn’t.

you took your time watering your crops and feeding your animals, hoping that somehow they’d convince you to go give the bouquet to elliot. fortunately you did it yourself, after checking your personal stash you realized you didn’t have enough gold to renovate your home and pay the men for the bet so you’d just have to perk up and confess.

on your way to elliot’s you greeted your friends around town, emily in particular noticing the bouquet and cheering you on before quickly sending you on your way by shoving you out of her house and on your way to the bridge. “you can do this!” she loudly whispered, the giddiness she’d been holding in becoming evident when she spoke. “okay… okay!” you reassured her and yourself.

walking onto the beach, you notice elliot dusting off the old boat that always sat next to his house and luckily enough he’s not quick to notice you just yet.

“ahem… uh. elliot!” you speak out, causing him to look up at you, flashing a brief smile before going back to dusting off his boat. “hello, the weather is just about right for a boat ride. willy says to give it another day though, something about those silly ‘tides’ and such.” elliot replied.

laughing dryly, you nod. “yeah… listen, um, i wanted to give you this.” holding the bouquet down to elliot, you notice his eye slightly widen and you couldn’t help but feel you made a mistake, but you waited for him to confirm your suspicion. “you really feel that way?” the question made you gulp, “i feel that way too!” he said cheerily. letting out an excited yelp, you hopped into the boat and hugged the red head tightly, “thank yoba!” sighing as you slid off of him, elliot gently ruffled your hair.

you felt relived that this was finally off your chest. smiling at elliot, you kissed his cheek and waved a pleased goodbye, breaking off into a run to willy’s not too soon after you left his eyeshot. “i told you i’d do it!” you yelled, swinging the door to his shop open.

THIS WAS LEGIT MY FIRST FIC(on tumblr), i really hope you enjoy, i did my best to proof read and everything

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gwenthebard · 10 months

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TELL! US! ABOUT! YOUR! OCS!

OH SOMEONE ACTUALLY ASKED

OKAY THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ASS POST, LETS TALK ABOUT MY TWO MAIN OC CATEGORIES

Pathfinder OCs and Fallout OCs. My Pathfinder OCs are primarily based around the Montague family of Ustalav, my Fallout OCs are primarily based around game MCs plus one TTRPG oc

Honestly I've written fan fiction about all of them, but I'm absolutely too terrified to share that

Buckle up y'all

MONTAGUE FAMILY

The Montague family are Ustalav nobility, all disappointments to each other and all fucked up in their own and unique ways. I sort of have art for them, but it's just Hero Forge screenshots from them being largely game characters.

In alphabetical order:

Alaela Montague

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 123

Height: 5’4 (163 cm)

Ancestry: Elf

Class: Cleric

Likes: Her kids, Bad Boys, Adventure, Sex, BDSM

Dislikes: Settling Down, Purity Culture, Losing

Fun Facts:

Parents are wealthy merchants in Absalam, but extremely disappointed in their daughter’s life choices and don’t talk to her much.

The collar is not part of her uniform

Alaela's a bad ass Cleric of Calistria who fell in love with her husband after she tried to kill him on a dare and he found it really funny. They got married, but after having the triplets she realized she was missing a life of adventure. She waited until they were 12, said "I'm sure they won't get mommy issues if I leave now" and left.

She still regularly writes her kids letters, somehow knowing where they are even when theyre adventuring. Every year she hosts a family dinner where everyone's invited, but attendance is inconsistent.

Bella Montague

Pronouns: She/They

Age: 63

Height: 6’3 (190 cm)

Ancestry: Dhampir human

Class: Cleric

Likes: Helping people out, Howl, meeting new people, Unions

Dislikes: Vegetables, Alcohol, Capitalism

Fun Facts:

Is in horrible need of wearing her glasses, but thinks they make her look like a nerd.

Became a cleric to try and see her mom more (it didn’t work)

Bella's the middle child of the Montague triplets, and was actually the first of them I built. She's very much a jock, terribly built, and is a charismatic herbo who gets by on the fact no one asks her anything too complicated.

She can't hit anything, will eat or drink anything you hand her, and has built a slow resistance to poison from Howl testing his poisons on her since they were kids. They will do literally anything an older woman tells her to, and has accidentally unionized war camps.

Delilah Montague

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 63

Height: 6’3 (190 cm)

Ancestry: Dhampir human

Class: Witch

Likes: Death, Necromancy, The Eyes That Watch, Salem, Sally

Dislikes: Food, Baths, Bella

Fun Facts:

Uses Embalming fluid as her perfume

Sally is the only one allowed to fix her hair or pick her outfits

I'm actually playing Delilah in an Alkenstar game, and she's probably my favorite. Having suffered from sleep paralysis since she was a kid, on the first birthday after her mom left the creature in the shadows, the Eyes That Watch, sent her a cat as a birthday present. Salem's a talking cat who ambiguously hints he was once human, and is a himbo

She takes terrible care of herself, having not taken a bath or brushed her hair in decades now. Her outfit was white when and blue when she was given it, and she's never purposefully dyed it. Delilah often has to be forced to eat by Salem, though at the same time he eats most of her rations for her.

Howl Montague

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 68

Height: 6’6 (198 cm)

Ancestry: Vampire human

Class: Alchemist

Likes: Fashion, Sewing, Fiber Arts, Bella

Dislikes: Blood, messes, insects

Fun Facts:

Made the main outfits all of the triplets normal wear (armor withstanding)

Bella is the only one who gets to hear about how his experiments are going (she's the test subject)

Howl is the oldest Montague child, and is proud of having the best fashion sense. He wakes up every morning and decides he's the most impressive person in the country. Having trained to be an alchemist since a young kid, he specializes in mutagens and poisons.

Howl is a disaster pansexual and has a habit of falling fast and falling hard for every man and woman he meets. Absolutely has never gotten a date and never will, because he has negative game. Sally tried setting him up once on a blind date and he panicked and poisoned himself to have an excuse to leave early.

Kolro Montague

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: ???

Height: 7’5 (226 cm)

Ancestry: Vampire human

Class: Fighter

Likes: Bloodshed and massacre, subjugating the masses, torture, his wife

Dislikes: His kids, his life choices

Fun Facts:

Spends an hour every morning styling his hair and beard

Makes sure to schedule a collective twenty four hours of bonding time with each of his kids each year to seem like he cares

Kolro's family had ruled their territory in Ustalav for some time before he became a vampire. Killing his own father, he took up the titles and has ruled the territory with an iron fist ever since, his cruel exterior only pierced by Alaela.

Kolro has no idea how to raise kids, and literally thinks his kids aren't properly adults until they try to kill him and steal his titles and lands. None of them have tried to do so, and none hold a demeanor close to his, leading to constant disappointment. He's not sure how to interact with his kids in a way that's not encouraging murder or discussing the philosophy of war.

Salem Catenhagen

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: ???

Height: Cat

Ancestry: Cat

Class: Cat

Likes: String, fish, catnip, women, flare for the dramatic, evil schemes

Dislikes: Water, long walks on the beach, The Eyes That Watch

Fun Facts:

Used to be human before betraying The Eyes That Watch

Considers himself the dad who stepped up to Delilah.

Literally just gonna leave this here, what else needs to be said.

Sally Montague

Pronouns:

Age: 63

Height: 6’3 (190 cm)

Ancestry: Dhampir human

Class: Druid

Likes: Her kids, Delilah, her husbands, nature, animals, flowers, trees, birds, bugs, green, brown, purple, pink, red, white, black (list continues indefinitely)

Dislikes: Fighting, anger, bad vibes

Fun Fact:

Stole her pearl necklace from her dad’s private vault as a memory of home

Is wanted in every country for violent acts of ecoterrorism she refers to as her “fixing the vibes in the room”.

Youngest of the Montague triplets, Sally has always been the silliest of the family. Loving peace, happiness, beauty, she was always considered to be a rebel in her family, something she thought stressful. When she fell in love with a halfling bard at nineteen she panicked at how her family would react and did the logical thing:

She robbed her grandmother's grave and placed the body in her bed, burned down her tower, stole the Montague family pearls, and faked her death for five years while she eloped and had a kid. By the time she returned, everyone was so happy about her being alive they didn't care about her taste in men. She primarily lives in a halfling commune with her three husbands and scores of kids and grandkids, but occasionally goes on trips to perform ecoterrorism.

FALLOUT OCS

These have a lot less information, mostly because most of them are my character headcanons and the one TTRPG one I've never gotten a chance to play in a game so it's just for my custom setting

I have a picture of my Sole Survivor OC, literally shitty "took picture of screen" because was playing her recently, but not even Hero Forge art for others so keep that in mine

Nancy Alberts

Origin: Lone Wanderer

Pronouns: She/Her

Nancy's genuinely hopeful and happy, but also very shy and uncertain about herself. Growing up in the vault she was the type to try and making people like her by being funny, but none of her jokes work in the wasteland so she's just nervous.

Ends up becoming really skilled at using automatic rifles and the like. She wears the power armor she's given while out on quests, but otherwise feels a lot of comfort in wearing her old vault suit while around the house.

She started getting a crush on Butch before she left the vault that she fucking hated and suppressed. They became a relationship of "well we know each other and not many other people" after he left the vault himself, and kinda on again off again until they actually started dating after the game.

Mouse

Origin: The Courier

Pronouns: She/Her

Mouse lost big sections of her memory after getting shot in the head, remembering some vague details but forgetting a lot. Not remembering her actual name, she just remembers people liked to call her Mouse, and she was from farther out west. Wandering back out into the wastes she found herself.

She ends up becoming classic cowboy, using revolvers mostly with occasional non-scoped rifles, wears leathers and coats. She acts cheerful and happy, though is constantly on the verge of an identity crisis and crying regularly as she tries to figure out who she is. Tries staying alone at first, despite meeting few people, but does bring Boone along after helping him out.

Sees Boone as similar sad person for her to relate to, especially since it helps neither talks about their past immediately. Starts to enjoy his company and adds his gifted beret to her normal wardrobe. Starts to get a crush on Boone, but pretty much immediately knows he's never returning that.

Sleeps with Benny planning to kill him and thinking it's the best way to show Boone "not interested", but they end up talking about their feelings and regrets and she forgets to and falls asleep. Wakes up pissed off and tracks him down, ends up letting him go, and gets pissed at herself again and shoots Caesar for the hell of it before leaving. This all makes her realize how desperate she is for someone to talk to, and makes the crush on Boone worse.

Honest Hearts and Lonesome Road happens and she realizes it's not just Boone, she just has the worst taste in men and is touch starved.

She does the Yes Man ending, and tries and help people around her get better as she realizes she's a complete mess. Tries turning herself into a martyr, but friends keep pulling a "I will drag you into loving yourself" point

Julie "Snipes"

Pronouns: She/Her

Origin: Sole Survivor

Julie grew up in the country and was used to needing to hunt and the like, with her dad being a major doomsday prepper. Gladly settled down and became a suburban housewife after growing up with that, trying to put that behind her. After waking up from being frozen she fell back on a lot of that, while spiraling mentally.

Julie believes completely in customization and sufficiency, though how far she takes it can be concerning. She primarily dresses as above and uses a sniper rifle and pipe pistol for close range. She stopped using her husband's name early on, though didn't feel comfortable taking her maiden name. In the end she ended up getting the nickname Snipes for her preferred method of combat.

She alternates rather regularly between being nice and supportive and wanting to go into the Wasteland and fight everything she sees. Generally tries to help others, but at the same time just feels really lost and unsure of how to act in this new world so she falls back on letting others do most of the charity work.

On top of building settlements and falling back on knowledge she has from her past she customizes everything. Her weapons, her armor, even herself in what ways she can. Julie got really into chems after the apocalypse, often making her own and using them during fights.

Doesn't really get over the death of her husband for a long while, not even removing her wedding ring the whole time or living his behind. Becomes really good friends with Hancock and has brief flings with Piper and Macready, but isn't ready for a full relationship. Does Minuteman ending, after the game she ends up retiring to Diamond City with her robot kid to try focusing on herself again.

Morgause

Pronouns: She/Her

Origins: Fallout 2d20 (Custom Richmond Setting)

Morgause is a member of "The Kingdom", a group of ren faire descendents who formed a pseudo-medieval civilization. A member of the noble class, Morgause left it behind to seek a life of her own. Now she wanders the wasteland trying to help smaller civilizations, while escaping bounty hunters her family sends trying to bring her back.

Morgause still dresses in the pseudo-medieval fashion of The Kingdom, wearing long dresses and veils even to fights. Primarily using rifles, she likes to keeps her distance if a fight happens and use her charisma first when possible. Her dialogue's still peppered with the dialect of The Kingdom, though she's been trying to hide it as it's a subject of ridicule the farther out one gets from their territories.

Morgause travels alone mostly, though has recently started taking up group jobs in an attempt to socialize. Not really sure how to act outside the specific context of a noble of a single culture though it's been slow and with plenty of blunders. Her one and only attempt to have asked someone on a date having resulted in laughter

#ask Gwen #my ocs #pathfinder #fallout #thank you so much for asking about this I have been wanting to give people this rant for months now

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brooklynislandgirl · 2 years

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23. What is your muse’s ideal environment (e.g. big city, forest, mountains, desert, e.t.c.)? 25. What is your muse’s opinion on gossip? Do they ever gossip, encourage it, discourage it?

A Little Bit Of This and That || Accepting 23. What is your muse's ideal environment: {e.g. big city, forest, mountains, desert, etc.} Beth lays on the ground, an arm tucked under her, staring up at the stars. The question posed to her by her host isn't a surprise. She is sure he sees her as a little frail thing, one that does not belong here in his mountains. Perhaps he expects her to be frozen solid by morning. People tend to underestimate her by appearance alone. "My homeland is not so different from what I know of Wakanda, my ali'i. There are many islands, and while they are tropical with many volcanoes, they also have some of the most lush forests, the most breathtaking mountains larger even from base to summit than the famous Everest, and some of the most beautiful beaches the world has ever seen. It is no surprise then that haole call them 'paradise' and wish to take and take and take until nothing is left of them." She smiles to herself and there is a lick of bitterness at the corners of her mouth. She is sure that her true answer would cause a great deal of offense as her ideal environment would be one in which people lived in harmony with their surroundings, saw every rock and leaf and creature as no more important than they themselves, and returned to living the natural way. Respecting the land and seeing everything in the world as part of a global family rather than what they do now. She would also like for there to be far fewer humans but that is a dream that died long ago. She also is a child of the Earth, and the Grandmother's blessing on is the ability to adapt as she needs to, even becoming something else entirely for a small duration. This is something else she does not say. "We do not have so much snow, as Madam Pele's fires still burn so close to the surface of the 'aina, the land, but we do get some at uppermost peaks of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. I like its cold, it's crispness, how clean everything feels in winter. I think....if I claimed one sort of environment as my own it is the sea. The Ocean is my true mother. Like all creatures it was from Sea we are born and I hope when my days are done, it is to Her arms I return." A slight pause, a hesitance in her soft voice. "And you, my ali'i? Have you always lived here in these mountains, or have you gone away only to return?" ~*~

25. What is your muse’s opinion on gossip? Do they ever gossip, encourage it, discourage it?

The entire camps are astir with talk. If she's hearing a wisp here or there of conversation it largely has to do with outsiders arriving by the score; the Avengers, for certain, Captain Rogers especially. Mentions of the White Wolf. Beth keeps her head down for the most part, and only does the things that are tasked to her in preparation for the upcoming battle. Truth be told, she rarely engages in the gossip and the questions everyone seems to have because she's partially still learning the languages so easily spoken between the tribes, but mostly it's because she doesn't hear things right. She never has. Wakanda has been a blessing when she is allowed to steal away to the Jabari lands, the silence of the mountains and the lack of constant technology humming and buzzing makes everything so much easier to process, as well as the directness of being able to look someone in the eye, to read their body language. The Golden City is a far cry from that, and in some ways it rivals New York or Honolulu. Another things she dearly dislikes about gossip is that it is often verbal poison; it infects the listener as well as the person or people who it is about, and it spreads like a disease or wildfire, twisting even the most innocent and honest truth into something unrecognisable before it runs its course. It is also the most important currency in politics, in business, in administration, everywhere. It sort of churns the bile in her stomach how easily someone can get labeled or mistreated because of something whispered in the right ear, again regardless of the veracity. It makes her want for the company of her animal cousins rather than her human ones. Maybe the only time she indulges is when she's talking to Sam and his is less gossip as it is keen insight into other people and sharp, often funny observations about people and human nature. He means no harm and doesn't wield his comments like a dagger in the dark. As she walks by a group of people, she feels eyes on her then she hears the giggles, and it isn't a very pleasant feeling. "Yeah, yeah, titahs. Go on wi' ya coconut wireless," she murmurs under her breath in her pidgin, a source of comfort, and hikes the basket of medical supplies a little higher up on her hip.

#Mahalo!Howl <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms}#Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Honourable Mention|Lord M'Baku

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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oops-all-knuxadow · 3 years

Text

Nightmares

The host of Knuxadow week, late to posting her own prompts? It's more likely than you'd think. Have some hurt/comfort to make up for it.

The first time Shadow teleported to the island without invitation, it took over a minute for the echidna to get him to make eye contact. When he finally did, Knuckles saw dark bags under bloodshot eyes and a hollow stare.

"I'm sorry," Shadow had said, voice surprisingly soft. "I just...wanted to be somewhere quiet."

Knuckles understood. Above the rest of the populace as he was, the echidna was unbothered by traffic and whirring machinery and light pollution. Angel Island was full of nothing but Earth's natural sounds, soft on the enhanced senses of the artificial hedgehog and the emerald's guardian.

So he invited him to stay the night. Shadow was not a creature built for greed, and his continued displays of heroism towards saving the world told the echidna that he wasn't here for the Master Emerald. He didn't pry Shadow for details, and in turn, the hedgehog didn't overstay his welcome in another person's home. By dawn, the only evidence he'd ever been there was a handful of stray quills that'd been shed in the night.

Knuckles didn't give it any thought, and had crossed it off as a one-time event. Shadow hadn't caused him trouble, and that's all he could hope for.

But, then it happened again. One second, Knuckles was meditating on the shrine, the next, Shadow had appeared in a mess of labored breathing and raised quills, clearly in some sort of fight or flight mode.

The hedgehog nearly collapsed to his knees upon arrival, swaying dangerously in a way that made Knuckles worry he'd topple down the stairs. But, he'd steadied himself and merely asked that he might stay.

"Again?" Knuckles asked. Shadow didn't waver, but the slow flexing of his fists gave away his anxiety. If rejected, it was clear the striped mobian would leave without protest. "Fine. I'm meditating, so just be quiet until I'm done."

That settled, he relaxed back into his seat, legs crossed, and closed his eyes and breathed deep. He heard Shadow's breathing slowly steady, then the click of his skates walking up the stairs. He felt the heat of his body as he settled down beside him, obeying his request to stay silent.

They remained there together longer than Knuckles could reliably keep track of. When he finally reopened his eyes, he found the hedgehog beside him asleep, body lax and head bowed in his sitting position. His ears twitched now and then, but he seemed otherwise in a comfortable state of rest. He noted that his frown seemed less harsh, the draw of his brows less severe. It made him look more youthful.

The guardian debated leaving Shadow there alone and crawling into his burrow to sleep, but another part of his mind told him that wasn't the right thing to do here.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, letting his back press against the Master Emerald and settling in for an unavoidably sore back in the morning.

At dawn, as he stretched and listened to his bones pop and limbs complain about his sleeping position, he found another few stray quills on his shoulder.

Months went by. Every so often, Knuckles would find himself with company, and each thought about kicking Shadow off the island became dismissed faster and faster, until he grew to anticipate his arrival. At this point, he was welcomed with a simple, acknowledging nod and an invitation to join the echidna in whatever activity he was doing at the time.

He wondered what the hedgehog did to alleviate his nightmares before he'd started coming to Angel Island. Did he manage to go back to sleep, like he did with Knuckles? Did he run laps across the globe to work the stress off? Did he turn to anybody else for help, or had he been suffering alone until he couldn't take it anymore?

Knuckles didn't want to think about it. It also wasn't his place to ask; the wordless agreement they'd made was able to stay in place because the echidna didn't try to pry Shadow for information. He granted the hedgehog sanctuary by letting him decompress on the quiet paradise, not by digging into his business, and he would honor that.

At least, he would until he was awoken by his companion nearly seizing beside him one night.

After the little moment they had on the altar, Shadow had slowly tested the waters as to how much physical contact the echidna would allow. It was hard for Knuckles to accept it at first, being simultaneously touch-starved and averse, but the hybrid's presence had never really disturbed him, even when they used to operate on opposite sides of the battlefield.

He was comfortable enough in these little sleepovers now to allow Shadow to sleep side by side with him in his burrow, which is why he was able to feel him thrashing in the night. Knuckles rubbed his eyes, squinting in the darkness to stare at the hedgehog.

Shadow's breathing was unsteady, limbs frequently twitching and spasming as if he were restrained by something. His brows were furrowed and a thin sheen of sweat was slicking his fur.

He couldn't even begin to wonder what the nightmare was about. From what very little he knew of him, Shadow's past was tragic, so any number of things could be plaguing the mobian. The dilemma, here, was what to do.

He could ignore the fit and go back to sleep, hoping for it to pass. He could wake him, and risk a possible lash-out in Shadow's disoriented state.

Or he could soothe.

Knuckles blinked slow, in the dark, and inched towards his guest, praying he would not wake him. Carefully, he reached out his gloveless hands and brought them around Shadow's waist, then drew him close until they lied chest to chest.

Almost immediately, the shaking stopped. Knuckles held his breath for several, terrifying seconds, watching to see if the hedgehog's eyes opened.

Instead, the other male slackened, his chest rising and falling at a calmer rate, and the echidna allowed himself to relax as well. He closed his eyes in relief, head resting on the ground tiredly as he allowed himself to go back to sleep. In his last moments of consciousness, he reflected on the fact that it would be much harder for Shadow to slip away in the early morning, though he was too tired to figure out why that pleased him.

When morning came, Knuckles opened violet eyes to find a swathe of quills in his sightline, and the warmth of a body that wasn't his own. His gaze flicked down, taking in the sight of Shadow's head buried against his chest, red and black arms wrapped around his waist.

He stared for a few moments, then smirked.

"I know you're awake. Your ears twitch when you sleep."

The arms around him squeezed gently in an admission of guilt, and Shadow finally lifted his head, red eyes bright and rested. His expression was guarded.

"I know you aren't a cuddler in your sleep," the hedgehog replied, the question unspoken but heard nonetheless. Knuckles swallowed.

He looked away for a minute to gather his thoughts. Shadow waited patiently, neither of them moving to break away from their embrace, lest they also break whatever atmosphere was currently hovering between them.

Knuckles felt like he had to choose his words carefully, like whatever he said next would change the nature of their companionship. His heart beat faster at the thought of messing this up, of somehow pushing Shadow away.

"You were thrashing last night," he said slowly, "and I wasn't going to lie here and just let you suffer...you're here for comfort, and...and if I can give you that, then I will. I want to."

He looked to the hybrid again, gaze imploring. "Is that okay? Can I...can we..."

Knuckles didn't quite know how to form the words, but the way Shadow seemed to soften told him that he didn't need to. He watched the hedgehog look down and bury his fact in his chest again, arms hugging him tighter.

"Yes," came the muffled reply. "Thank you."

The echidna blushed, returning the embrace, and knew he much preferred to wake up like this. Together.

#knuxadow week 2021 #knuxadow week #knuxadow #shadow the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #shadow x knuckles #shaduckles #long read

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niftyvisuals · 3 years

Photo

In the coming weeks, we're featuring some of the characters you'll meet in Royal Order!

Our very first character spotlight is on our protagonist, Aarya!

◆ Aarya is a curious sort that seeks to understand everything around them. Don’t anticipate keeping secrets from them for long.

Although they try to be discreet, they’ll still do their best to find out whatever they want to know, one way or another.

◆ Don’t be fooled by their habit of going out of their way to help others, for Aarya is happiest when they’re doing nothing at all!

Their ideal day would end by lunch if it meant spending the rest of the entire afternoon relaxing in the sun.

◆ An old soul, Aarya had trouble relating to others their own age even as a child. Instead, their traditional tastes and flawless manners always made them popular with old ladies.

Jokes often circulated that the tea parties hosted at the Chabenet estate were a cover for their ‘fanclub’ to meet with them.

◆ Though unusual for a noble, Aarya’s favorite hobby is cooking… even if their skills are painfully average at best.

Their expertise in enchanting does wonders to disguise how flavorless their food is, but they really wish people would stop pointing that out.

◆ Aarya has a soft spot for all living creatures—except for insects.

One fine morning at House of Chabenet, they ran out of the estate screaming because they awoke to a particularly large beetle perched on their pillow.

Needless to say, the servants of the estate knew to keep the gardens beetle-free afterwards.

#Royal Order #visual novel #otome #eblg #OELVN #kickstarter

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lemonhobgoblin · 3 years

Text

A Casual Night

Mothman x human reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: 7k

(I remember saying I would have a fic done the same week I posted my other fic. Well, that was a lie. After dealing with work, creating new wips, and editing what started as a 2k fic became this long-ass post. I tried to keep this gender-neutral, but if there are any parts thats not gender-neutral, or if something doesn't make sense give me a message and I'll fix it. Anyway hope you enjoy!)

The faint sound of your car running and the sound of the wind whipping against the surface was muddled out by old tunes playing from a random radio station filling the lonely ride home. Your eyes trained on the dark empty road ahead, your headlights on full beam, lighting your way. The subtle notes of a box of cooling pizza wafting in your direction every so often.

You were driving from a city over from where you lived, coming back from a friend’s home who was having a small get-together. It was a great time, unwinding from the stresses of work and life in general, with games, movies, playful banter, and sharing a couple of drinks. As the night progressed, things began to slow down, one of your friends passed out on the couch while everyone else turned to some lighthearted conversation. Leading the host to pipe up if they were willing to spend the night given how late it has gotten and mostly due to how much some people drank.

While everyone was willing to stay the night and continue their night of merriment. You on the other hand as well as one other person had to leave for the night due to work obligations you both had tomorrow morning.

Regretfully, you made your exit not without being offered leftovers for the ride back. But halfway home, you received an email detailing how you were not needed for work tomorrow as you were getting gas.

With this newfound information, you had the choice of making a U-turn back or continue straight home.

Rather than driving back to your friend's home, you were just going to continue your way home. You already said goodnight to them, and you were almost home even though it was still quite a ways to go. Nevertheless, they probably turned in for the night by now, and there was always next time to make it up to them.

So driving down an empty two-way road, with no lights fixture to light the road. With no other cars passing through, keeping you company. Only the trees crowding around the road giving you some sort of haunting looming audience. This was a normally busy road; however, by how late in the night it was, it was understandably dead.

Fortunately, enough, you saw your first signs of life up ahead. It seemed to be a herd of deer passing by. You honked your horn to scare them away from the oncoming danger that was your car.

Except instead of dispersing, they stayed in place, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary why else did they have the saying 'a deer in headlights.'

But what was odd, was the closer you approached the herd of deer they seemed to be floating off the pavement, apparently, they were one entity and not a group and had a pair of red glowing eyes. It stirred an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Promptly, an undiscernible screech erupted all around, jolting you in your seat, feeling a pang of sudden fear washing over you. Convincing yourself it was only the radio going off the fritz, peeling your eyes away from the road you scrambled to shut off the device. During your haste to bring an end to the blaring otherworldly sound, you didn’t realize how fast you were driving.

"What the fuck?!" Seeing a flash of a large dark mass smashing against your windshield - shards of glass flying around and onto you.

Swerving your car over to the side of the road, feeling the right side slope down, the bumps of the grass making you rattle and jostle in your seat. Putting your car to a complete stop.

Frantically, you scrambled to free yourself from your seatbelts, ripping yourself from your constraints, you busted out your car. Not giving a single care to the state of your car or your frazzled state. Only concerned about what or who you hit.

Jogging down, you saw a crumpled figure on the ground, he was a good distance away from where you parked. "Oh my god," You exclaimed.

“I didn’t see you coming, I’m so sorry," you yelled, hurrying to aid the individual. You didn’t get a response or see any movement - he did hit your car pretty hard.

Scared for their wellbeing you slowed down and fished for your phone in your back pocket to call for help. But before you could dial for help, you saw something that put halt to your actions. You starred in disbelief as your phone locked out.

From the figure, a wing stretched out toward the sky before folding back in itself.

What the hell did you hit?!

Cautiously, you crept forward to get a better look, you could see he was wearing a fur jacket. No. He was furry everywhere, dull in color but with an interesting print on what you believed was the wings, the pattern was similar to a moth's wing. A costume perhaps? His legs were a digitigrade structure and his feet are similar to a bird's foot arrangement. The talons of which were scraping against the road like an animal in pain.

"A moth?" Perplexed at what exactly you were looking at, it still seemed human, but it was too large in stature given it curled up on the ground. This had to be some large person in a very convincing costume. Assuming it was someone dressed up, as what you could only think of as Mothman. A random tall person dressed head to toe in an extremely convincing Mothman in the middle of an isolated road, for reasons you couldn't conjure but there had to be a rational reason as to why.

The closer you approached, the more of your rationality began to slip. Carefully you squat down, putting your hands on its back, it felt real. Too real.

The wings felt warm, stroking your hand down, you felt the ridges, bumps, and what felt like a pulse, in the wings. You noticed it had a plush ruff around its neck that could’ve been mistaken for a scarf. And there were antennas on its head, it was featherlike and twitched every few seconds. You had no desire to investigate further, yet you had a gnawing sense of curiosity that compelled you.

Besides what if was someone who was severely injured and needed immediate help. And what kind of person would you be if you just drove off without a second thought, leaving them to die. You couldn't live with yourself if that was the case.

This is too unreal. But all the signs suggested otherwise.

Bracing yourself, you gently turned him over to face you, the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you felt instant regret surge through your veins. You stumbled backward, landing on your back, trying to push yourself away from the massive creature with your legs.

"MOTHMAN!!" You screamed.

This in turn alarmed the cryptid, flapping his wings erratically in response to your sudden outcry. It was emitting these indiscernible sounds that you had heard earlier in the car, it provoked that familiar immense fear within you.

Except, this was louder than when you were in your car, the sound reverberated through you, chills traveling up your spine. You could feel your heart palpitating within your chest, your trembling limbs growing numb. You felt your senses heightened at an alarming rate it was nauseating that you felt your mind blur. If these disquieting sounds alone could trigger your flight or fight response, without the presence of the monster. It was nothing in comparison to the full show that was in front of you, it was overwhelming in all the senses, inciting you to get far as possible.

"Holy shit!" Pulling yourself from your state of shock, you turned over onto your hands and knees, pushing yourself up and away, making a straight beeline to your car without delay.

The screeching stopped behind you. Glancing back toward the monster curious if it was making a move towards you. But all you saw was a poor incapacitated being, pitifully attempting to lift itself away. One of its wings was flapping while the other was barely moving at all. When it tried to move its stiff wing, it wouldn't fully extend before retracting it back, making what sounded like a pained low screech.

In all honesty, even in your fear-driven state, it pained you to witness this distressing scene. Pondering back and forth between taking the car and leaving, or taking your chances with the monster.

Inching toward the car, all without removing your eyes from the scene. Then you heard a more distressing shrill, stopping you dead in your tracks. You couldn't leave him.

He still needs help.

Inhaling a deep breath, you shakily walked back, each step was challenging you felt so weak in the knees and you felt lighter than usual. Your mouth desiccated of any moisture but persisted in swallowing nothing. It felt as if you were walking down to your execution and it might as well be. You couldn't predict what it would do or what it was capable of doing if you got any closer. Regardless, you tried to push your fears aside and help him, even if it killed you.

"Hold on, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just don’t hurt me please." Easing yourself onto your knees, mindful of not doing any sudden movements to provoke it any further for both of your sakes.

Bringing a hand back to where you had it before, you delicately brushed your hand up and down in small strokes on its wing. Focusing on his state and not his appearance, you saw cuts and scrapes littering its wings and body.

You grazed over an open wound, causing the creature to flinch, silently apologizing to him in a hushed tone before continuing to pet him while avoiding any more wounds.

Its breathing began to slow, quelling its jitters. You took this as an indicator of the creature growing at ease at your presence. “See I just wanna help." You whispered as the Moth creature peered up, gazing into your eyes in a sort of mutual understanding. Ensuring a feeling of reprieve within you and within him, or so you thought. It was soon to be proven wrong. The moment was short-lived when the cryptid began to thrash around again, this time trying to keep you away from him.

"Wait I thought we had an understanding there." Pulling yourself into a ball to avoid the cryptid's violent flapping wing and arms recklessly whipping around. "The eye contact we had! The eye contact!" you screamed after being betrayed by this false sense of amicable trust you thought you both had shared at that moment. But this ineffectively did nothing to fix the dilemma, merely adding more to the chaos.

"Please I want to help you." Reaching your hand out to calm him once more, without the screaming and flailing this time. "This was my fault, I wanna help and then you can go on your Mothman way, okay?" You tried to coax. Once more the monster began to quiet down, its quick shallow breathing slowed. Weary of his soothed behavior, you waited a bit before wrapping his arm over your neck.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up or at least try to." You said, guiding him upward into a standing position.

"Christ, you’re heavy!" Bending under the weight, propping him against your frame, so you could get a proper footing and grip on him. You struggled to the car, trudging over, but not without one of your legs giving out from under the weight occasionally. What caught your eye was how his head lulled forward or side to side, he might be disoriented from the blow. Not wanting to move his head much, you trudged much slower than you already were and stopped every few seconds.

Arriving at you your vehicle, you rested against your car, before opening the car door and easing him inside into the backseat. Tucking in any stray limbs and wings fully inside the car. Shutting the door you looked at the heavily cracked windshield. It was damaged pretty well, you summarized that you had to slowly drive all the way home. Wait home.

"Wait, I can't just bring you to my house." You said, bringing a hand to your mouth, realizing a new issue. "Someone's gonna see you." Remembering you lived on a busy street near pubs and shops, and it was Friday night you could only assume there were still people out and about enjoying the nightlife. Peering inside your car, your eyes locked on your jacket in the front seat.

"Maybe I can disguise you, and it is Friday night maybe people would be too drunk to notice."

"As long as we don't draw too much attention." You said, getting into your seat and starting up the engine. But something about saying those words aloud, felt like it was going to bite you in the ass but what’s the worst that can happen, you had him handled.

….

Here you were driving back home with the low-volume melody playing like before. However, this was different, before you were alone and you welcomed the tranquil ambiance you had riding home. But now you were riding back with an elusive creature. Creating an unsettling silence within the vehicle. What was maddening was that you were unsure what he was thinking, making you unsure of what to do besides drive. Maybe you were overthinking this but you felt you had to do something to break this disorienting atmosphere because this was too hard to fathom as reality.

"D-Do you want gum? L-Leftover pizza?" Your voice cracked, quickly clearing your throat asking again in a stronger confident voice.

No response. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, sucking in your cheek prompting you to purse your lips in your endeavor of finding what else to say. Flitting your eyes back and forth from the road to looking around your car on what else to offer.

"My coat?"

No response again.

Looking at your rearview mirror to get a glimpse of the cryptid only to be met with its red eyes staring directly back at you. Hastily looking back to the road and sinking into your seat, alarmed. How long was he staring at you? Why was he staring? At least he seemed less disoriented now, but you didn’t need that right now, maybe you could draw his attention onto something else other than you.

"How about some air?" you asked, hoping he would stare out the window or put his head out, anything but him staring at you all the way home. Gliding your left hand over to the window control panel on the side of your door, you pushed down a button making his window rolled down. This captured his attention, redirecting his gaze towards the open window, watching the trees and road signs passing by. O thank god. but just as he turned his head to the outside, he took this as an invitation to spread his wings to catch some air.

"That doesn't mean you can start flapping, put your wings down." Whipping your head back and forth from the creature to the road, drawing a hand at him, swinging it around to get him to fold his wings down. "PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN! PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN!" Veering your car off to the side of the road.

.....

Back on the road, after sorting out the matter. "Okay, no rolled down windows." You remarked. Mothman looking like a perfect angel in the back tapping at the rolled-up window while you were in the front with your hair messed up and arms lightly scratched. You weren't a mother, but you now had a vague idea of what it would be like and further respect and admiration for them.

Needless to say, you rode the entire way back in silence without a single word being uttered.

…..

Steering your car on the side of the street in front of an apartment complex, you placed your car in park. You turned off the engine. Street lamps and other building lights were illuminating the street. The neon signs from the local business started to shut off, looked like some of them are turning in for the night.

You snatched your jacket from the passenger seat before slipping out and making your way to open Mothman’s car door.

"We need to move, quickly." Throwing your coat over him to conceal him in the event of someone walking by. Mothman pawed at the coat and clutching it closer to get a better look and smell of the material. After gathering your phone and keys, you whirled back toward Mothman. Fussing at him to not move the jacket, readjusting it over his head. You surveyed the streets for anyone coming down or seem like they are heading out in your direction.

Once more putting his arm around you, you strode as quickly as you possibly could to the complex without either of you falling over. Mercifully, you got to the door with no problem at all or bumping into anyone.

Until you heard something you’ve been dreading on the way home, something that made your heart sank down into the deep trenches of your stomach

"Holy shit! Is that Mothman!?!" A male voice exclaimed.

You whirled your head toward the stranger who was slowly approaching you two. Fuck!

Where did he come from and what made him so confident that he’s looking at Mothman. You glanced back over to Mothman noticing that the jacket that was covering his face, was now draped over his shoulders. Drastically you scoured your brain for an excuse or some sort of explanation to counter how this wasn't a cryptid. But he beat you to the punch before you had a chance to find a solid response.

"Dude sick costume!" He said excitedly.

O fuck. Relieved that it wasn't the worse, but you were surprised he didn't question any further especially how close he was to you both. Even you would've questioned, the details and just the overall realism of said 'costume'. It didn't take long for the answer to hit you square in the nose. When a waft of alcohol invaded your nostrils, the man was drunk, and you never were more grateful.

"Thanks." You nervously laughed.

"That’s crazy good man, you did this all yourself?” He asked enthusiastically towards Mothman, beholding every bit of intricacy on the creature.

"He can’t talk right now; he drank too much to function." You interjected. “We just got back from a party.”

"I gotcha, but is it okay if I get a photo though?"

FUCK! you blurted internally, but externally with faux delight, you said "Sure!"

" 'Chad' you cool with that?" you sheepishly asked your moth friend with the first name you could think of for him. And why were you asking him? As if he could make a cohesive verbal response. But you were hoping at this moment he could magically talk, alas all he did was blankly stare.

"I'm not hearing a no." You heard the man say and you woefully agreed.

"Gimme a sec." The man pulled out his phone and tapping it unlocked.

"Okay," your heart was racing in your chest and you could feel a layer of sweat beginning to form and pool in places. But by some sweet grace of some higher being, a miracle happened right before your eyes. You heard a melodious chime sweetly ring through the crisp early fall air.

"O dang getting a call, hold on" the man answered the call, turning his back towards you.

Maybe there was a god, after all, a fucking sadist with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you were not about to pass up this chance for a free getaway.

You took this God-given opportunity to jam your key into the lock swiftly to get the both of you inside. Twisting to unlock the entrance, you could overhear the man to what sounded like him wrapping up his conservation. Turning the knob, you ushered Mothman and yourself inside the apartment complex, but not without throwing a quick apology to the stranger. Slamming your back against the door shutting it closed, a wave of relief washed over you.

"Aw man, that was too close." leaning your head against the door, desperate for a quick breath from your ordeal. You hadn't felt this much adrenaline since, since. You were so winded you couldn't even recall a memory.

Peeling yourself off from the door, feeling ready to make the final steps home. Deceptively though your body wasn’t as ready to move just yet.

"Nope wait." still trying to catch your breath. Doubling over, leaning forward, and resting your hands on your knees. Mothman all the while just tilted his head at you, confused. While you were over there feeling like you were going to be sick. The wave of nausea quickly fading away allowing you to straighten yourself out.

"Okay, we're good." You said as you grabbed his hand leading him up the stairs. Unbeknownst to you, the large creature was zoning in at the unfamiliar contact.

During his entire time with you, he was just as wary of you as you were with him. He wasn’t one to present himself to people, only as a forewarning of what was to come or an indication that Mothman will be the very last thing they would see. He trailed and stalked others like you in your car but was never hit, that was a first for him. Albeit though, him getting hit with your car, leaving him cut up and bruised did give him another reason to be extremely defensive and antsy around you.

Yet, you were gentle, loud but gentle with him when he wasn’t. Risking your safety in an effort for him to get mended. Lightly ghosting his thumb over the soft skin of your hand, tightening his hold on you. But you didn't notice, you were too preoccupied with climbing higher up the stairs, vigilant for any neighbors.

"Come on we're almost to my place." Giving a reassuring hand squeeze.

"Try to stay quiet a little longer." Peering back at the cryptid flashing him a quick warm smile, before looking back straight ahead. The creature looked directly at you, then to stairs, and back to you again. He came up with a grand idea to help with your effort. But first, he had to gain your attention and for this to work, he had to disregard everything you told him not to do earlier. The cryptid started to emit his screech directly at you to get your attention. And to you, he was making a ruckus, that was echoing through the entire stairwell and halls.

"What part of stay quiet do you not understand?" Grimacing at the noise. You stopped your movement, aiming to cover his mouth with your free hand, you felt his mandibles tickling underneath your palm.

The creature pulled your hand away and into his own, clutching both of his hands close to himself, bringing you into him. This gesture was unexpected and left you feeling warm in the face by how close he was pressing you into him. But it didn't last long when he began to bend his knee and flap his wing readying himself to fly up.

"Wait don't" Pushing yourself away from him, you freed yourself from his grasp to stop his actions. He was still injured this would only cause more harm to him and to you if he tried doing what you thought he was about to do. In your effort to stop him, Mothman tried to reach out for you again, only for his wing to smack into you causing you to land on the hard edge of the concrete stairs; headfirst. “Shit."

Groaning, "Well, I deserved that." you brought your hand to your head, you winced at the touch. As you yanked your hand away you caught a glimpse of red in your peripherals. Bringing the hand in your line of vision you saw blood smeared on the tips of your fingers.

Mothman immediately brought his actions to a halt when he saw what he had done to you. His antennas drooped down, he came close, giving you a hand up. Gladly accepting the gesture, he brought you up to an upright position, he felt bad for what he had done to you. Tentatively, he brought a hand up, lightly swiping his claws over your forehead making a low pained screech.

“It’s okay, you just wanted help didn’t you.” He nodded in response, you pressed a hand to the wound preventing the blood from dripping down. You couldn’t be mad at him he didn’t know better, and you did hurt him first, it only felt fair. Disrupting this tender moment, you heard yelling and heavy footsteps approaching one of the doors on the floor you were on.

"Let’s go!" you rushed up the stairs, luckily for you both it was the final flight of stairs. Reaching the top of steps in record time when you heard the front swing door open.

"What's with all that commotion!?" A neighbor yelled upward toward the sound of your feet stomping up. Coming to an abrupt halt at your door, you whispered for Mothman to stay where he was, while you dealt with the matter below. But he decided to follow behind instead, not wanting to leave your side.

"Sorry I was just goofing" You admitted, showing your face over the rail, outing yourself to your neighbor.

"Sorry my ass, I got work early tomorrow, you expect me to sleep with this fucking racket outside, and now this." They argued back, and rightly so, who wouldn’t complain about an unearthly ear-piercing screech penetrating through the halls along with banging sounds hitting all around the walls. But you couldn’t help but feel annoyed

"I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, promise." You leaned forward resting against the rail while one leg was kicked up behind you, preventing Mothman from coming toward the railing. You exchanged a few more words with your neighbor to avoid the landlord getting involved. Finishing up, you pulled yourself away calling it wraps on the conversation as the individual below continued spewing profanities at you and about the building.

You unlocked and opened your door “In! In! In!" You shoved the imposing cryptid inside, already getting peeved by the neighbor's continuous rambling. It wasn’t anything new they hated everyone in the building, but it wasn’t something you grew used to though.

"Jesus Christ finally." you sighed, kicking the door behind shut.

Slipping off your shoes, leaving them by the entrance, your feet ached in relief from its constructing confines. Dragging yourself through the small hall leading the way to the main part of your home, it was small but cozy.

"Here we are home sweet home." you chimed, leading Mothman further into the living room, grabbing the jacket from him and tossing it to the couch. As well as turning on a lamp to properly illuminate the room. It didn't take long for Mothman to be drawn to the light fixture like the moth he was. He grabbed the lamp hugging it towards him, looking directly at the bulb. Chuckling at the sight, you could’ve given him a flashlight on the way home if he was going to be this mesmerized. You proceeded to make your way to the kitchen for your first aid kit.

"You can make yourself comfortable, but don’t wreck anything please," you shouted from the room over, but Mothman was unbothered, he was solely transfixed on the soft light, eyes wide and grabbing at the lampshade. "I'm gonna go find my first aid kit to fix you and my cut." You really hoped nothing else gets broken, there was already enough screaming and thrashing for the night.

Shuffling through the kitchen, trying to remember where you last placed the kit. You rested and slid a hand over the cool smooth linoleum counter, looking between cabinets for any sign of a small box. Coming to the last cabinet, you rummaged through before finally pulling out your first aid kit.

But you couldn’t help but stop and think about tonight’s events. It started as a fun night, then filled with pure dread, mothering, and now what felt like taking care of a drunk long-time friend. Except, what really dominated your mind was this odd feeling you started to feel, you recounted back in the hall the way he held you close. It made you feel bashful, to say the least. Up to now, you saw him as a friendly harmless dare you say, an unexpected friend. But that didn’t accurately describe what you were feeling. Shaking your heading, you had other pressing matters to attend to.

"Got it, let's see." And not to your surprise you saw the tall cryptid sitting on the couch, clutching the lamp close to him as if it was his lifeline. You contemplated whether you should take the lamp away. But he looked to be enjoying the light source, hearing faint happy chirps emitting from him. Sadly, you decided to ruin his fun, seeing as there were wounds you needed to tend to on his chest and you needed the light to properly see them.

You attempted to pull the lamp away so you could have better access to examine his injuries. In response, he chittered in objection to his lamp being taken, and nothing was going to separate him from his precious lamp. He was going to soon learn that the lamp was barely holding onto the outlet. Hugging it closer to himself, the plug came out, extinguishing the light. Perplexed as to where his light disappeared to, he presented the lamp towards you hoping you would bring the light back.

“I’ll bring it back, but only until I get a look at you.” He nodded vigorously as you grabbed the lamp and setting back on the mini table, blindingly trying to find the plug and inserting back into the outlet turning on the lamp again. You sat on the couch next to him, motioning for him to come closer so you could get to work.

......

"I don’t see any major cuts or anything broken." Scouting out the state of the injuries, they were honestly not that bad, you guessed it was probably due to the now dried flaky blood around his cuts gave the appearance that they worse than what they were. He got pretty lucky but it was probably due to his build that he was capable of taking on more than a couple of hits.

"Only just a sprain and a couple of cuts, that’s a relief" Thinking to yourself glad it wasn't any worse, you couldn't imagine the stress of trying to keep him at your apartment while he heals, and away from your neighbors’ eyes. The fear of him getting caught and taken away and dissected. Being bombarded by officials and Mothman lovers. And getting questioned or probed, maybe even both. You didn’t know if they would, but you knew deep in your heart they would probe you for answers. Stopping your paranoid-filled train of thought from delving any further. You finished tying up a couple of loose ends and sticking on on salve on minor areas.

"See all better. Don’t move too much, it'll heal quickly that way" Gathering any trash to throw away. Everything is fine now; you don’t have plans tomorrow so you could probably sneak him back out the next night.

Huh.

Letting him go. The idea of it should have given you some relief and yet you couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Would he come to visit again? No that would be reckless. Or you could convince him to stay longer to heal, no that would be irresponsible and selfish of you. He deserves to go back, and you're going to help him get back on his feet and let him be on his way. You walked back to the room.

“Feel much better?” you inquired to Mothman who busy was playing with the bandages on him.

He looked directly at you and nodded in response.

"That’s good, the sooner you get better the sooner you can leave," you told him, seating yourself back next to Mothman who hasn’t kept his eyes off of you. You peered up to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to capture him looking directly at you with his head tilted.

Not this again. you thought.

He’s certainly not making this any easier. You looked away trying to focus on anything else in the room before you resorted to looking at the floor.

"You know it’s still kinda crazy, that this is even real. Like I feel like I’m going insane," you jokingly confessed to Mothman, laughing to yourself. But you thought about it more, maybe you were, "O my God is this what a psychological break is?" You looked back at him, having an unfazed look on him.

"Can I?" you asked reaching a hand forward. He stared at your hand for a bit, until he leaned forward giving you permission to proceed.

"So soft" allowing yourself to fully feel him, combing your hand through his dark fur and traveling up his ruff. It was surprisingly plush for how it looked, it felt you were touching a cloud but with some tiny debris within it. You gathered more courage to let your hand wander up to his face, giving a couple of brushes before stopping your motion, cupping the side face. His eyes were a brilliant red color comparable to a lustrous gem.

"You really are real." You muttered, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

Mothman brought a clawed hand to your face in a likewise manner, curious of your own features. Where for him he found them peculiar and to other individuals such as yourself they found it normal. The universe was messed up, making it much harder for you to separate yourself from him when the time comes for him to leave, but you allowed this, forgetting your initial plan.

Feeling a sharp claw gliding up against your skin, perfectly capable of nicking you or doing so much worse to you than you could imagine. But he had no intention to do so, merely entranced by you.

His hand wandered up to your forehead, where your gash was, flaky and dried the blood was chipping at the edges. His antennas lowered and chirped in response, for what he did to you back at the stairwell, he didn't mean to. Even if you said it was alright, it still didn’t make him better, bringing a hand to skim the wound, you flinched at the sharp pain of your forgotten injury, knocking you out of your trance-like state.

Mothman drawing back in his seat, alert and worried thinking he hurt you again.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

You reached a hand out to calm him, you aimed for his arm but managed to miss and land your hand on his thigh. Wow, that’s great! you internally cringed feeling a blush rush over you, instead of pulling back you still tried to alleviate him by patting his leg, telling him it was the injury that was hurting you not him.

Instead of defusing his concerned mindset, he only tried to push away from you to avoid causing you any further harm. Hand still anchored on his thigh, you launched yourself trying to stop him from hurting himself more.

Fortunately, with your luck, you ended up top of him, Mothman laying on the couch while you hovered over him, with both of your legs planted on either side of his thigh. Your left knee was alarming close to his crotch if you moved an inch closer you would be bumping your knee right into it. Your hands rested squarely on his chest, finger splayed out as you looked down at him with a similar wide-eyed expression.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Maintaining your effort of trying to console Mothman, you coughed to clear your throat and your mind of any dirty thoughts from springing up. “Hey, I know you didn’t mean to, and if you did, I would tell you and- and I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that you hurt me and I’m sorry for hitting you with my car, I feel like saying it doesn’t do justice for what I did.” You panted after your long-winded speech.

“Also, I’m sorry for tackling you down that wasn’t my intention. So, you good? I didn’t hurt you?”

He slowly shook his head, as a response that you didn’t hurt him. Startled yes. Hurt no. Bobbing your head in understanding, you carefully crawled off him.

"Well, I guess I should go get the blood washed off, I'll be right back." You informed the still cryptid who made no effort of getting up, just continued to lay on the couch staring straight ahead in shock.

Walking off to clean off the blood and to regain your composure. You were just going through too many emotions than you should for the night. On your way to take care of your problem, you could’ve sworn you heard something akin to a cat purring where Mothman was. But you blew it off and justified it as hearing the blood rushing and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

Striding down a hall and into the bathroom you turned the faucet on allowing the water to flow into the sink and onto your hands. Water pooled in your cupped hands before splashing the cold water onto your face, the water, and dried blood dripping together down around the curves and grooves of your face into the porcelain bowl below. It was a satisfying contrast to your heated face, splashing another round of water at your face but an intrusive memory replayed the moment that happened a few seconds ago. Leaving your face buried in your hands, groaning from sheer embarrassment. Fucking hell why am I like this?!

Unwillingly you slid your hands off and look at yourself in the mirror you looked like the accurate personification of a hot mess. You weren’t going to think too much into this, you are going to pretend what happened didn’t happen, you were going to disinfect and stick a bandage on your cut and not dwell on your emotions around the situation at hand. Allowing him to leave as soon as he is better and not have any other affiliations with him again.

Opening the medicine cabinet for an alcohol wipe and unwrapping the wipe from its small packaging.

"Now for the worst part." Quietly hissing at the contact with the antiseptic. Finishing up on cleaning the wound, you foraged through the cabinet looking for a bandaid. Noting there wasn’t one to be found, you sighed.

Guess I need to go find one.

Turning toward the door to walk out, you looked up and saw Mothman standing at the doorway, watching.

How long was he standing? And how the hell is he so silent for such a big guy and why wasn't he like this before? You were about to question him what he was doing here or if needed something when you noticed he was fiddling with a band-aid in hand. Slowly he brought it up, placing it over your cut.

"Thanks." Laying a hand over the band-aid, feeling not just your cheeks warming up but now a butterfly feeling in your stomach, solidifying your emotions for him.

So much for my plan.

Weaseling past him, before enthusiastically asking him, "Well, we got time to pass, so what do you want to do?"

…..

The sun rays bled through the curtains lightening up your home, the light seeping past your eyelashes and into your eyelids forcing you to wake up. Blinded by the light, you groaned in discomfort, pushing yourself up hearing a couple pops in your back. Rubbing a hand up and down your face trying to wipe away the sleep.

What the hell happened here? Why was there glass everywhere? Looking up you saw your window smashed in with only a few jagged pieces in place around the sides. Turning your attention away you looked around the room, wasn’t there someone else here. O yeah.

But the question was, how did you end up falling asleep on the floor, and where was the large cryptid. Wait a minute.

…

"No, you can't go out, you're still hurt." Trying to hold him back from going through the window. Everything was fine, you both were sitting on the couch, watching whatever, and snacking on fruit, and next, you found yourself asleep but woke up to a ruckus, the tv still on, and seeing Mothman trying to rip the curtain off the window nearby. Jumping to action to stop him, he successfully pulled off the curtains along with the rack, you assumed he was trying to leave even though he wasn’t better or so you thought.

And here you were struggling to hold him back, you thought he was difficult before but now that he fully adjusted and patched, you fully experienced that he was pure indomitable power.

"At least wait till the street is clear." You insisted, noticing some people walking or jogging down the street in the dark early morning. But he didn't listen he was adamant in making his exit. So, you made the decision to let him go.

"Okay, okay at least let me get the window, I don’t want glass on the floor." Racing in front of him to slide the window open. A quick gust of wind whipped against your face, causing you to squint your eyes in response.

"There! AH-!" the last thing you saw was Mothman coming at you and the last thing you felt was his frame bulldozing you down by fast approaching torso.

…

"O right." That explains how you ended up on the floor and the glass strewn all over the floor. More incredibly, even when you opened the window, the creature still managed to break the window in its haste to leave. Your head was pounding, he really is a force to be reckoned with. Bringing a hand to your head, you winced at the contact to your forehead but noticed something else. Delicately raising a hand back to your forehead and skimming along the surface. There was the band-aid from the stairwell and on the other side was another. You didn’t remember adding when did you?

Oh.

……

"My window," you muttered groggily, your vision fading out not before the moth creature gave his assistance to you for the last time and a thanks to you by sticking a band-aid on your sure-to-be bruised noggin as you lulled into an unconscious state.

……

At least bug boy was nice enough to get you another band-aid when he put you out cold, before making his exit. Slowly standing up to get started on assessing the mess and knowing full well that you needed to inform your landlord of the window. You peered out the window, curious of any indication of Mothman to spot, unfortunately, all there was to see the was hustle and bustle of the city around and below.

Turning your attention back to the mess, maybe you could make a fib of some large man drunk man pretending to be Mothman breaking into your home believing it was his. Sighing, you went to grab a broom to clean up the mess, at least you were able to encounter a real living and breathing legend. Made you wonder if other cryptids exist, but you’re pretty sure handling one creature was enough for now after last night.

Finishing up, you gathered all the shards and brought them to the trash. You didn’t have work for today, which gave you the opportunity to get a breather and get things done. Making your way to your room and getting ready for the day.

As you were getting clothes on and getting a good look at yourself in the mirror. There square above your eyes and your right eye was a bruise evident from last night's escapades. Shaking your head, laughing to yourself you weren’t going to be able to cover up the contusion. Bringing a hand to your head, you couldn’t help but smile at the cryptids' cute gesture. Walking out of the restroom deciding to let the shiner shine, ready to do some damage control.

Grabbing your keys, and heading out the door, and yet you couldn't stop thinking of that little moth guy. What are the chances of seeing him again? Probably unlikely, a mere once in a lifetime chance but you were grateful to encounter a sweet bug boy like him.

#mothman #mothman x reader #mothman x human #exophilia #cryptid #cryptid x reader #mothman fanfiction #mothman imagine #monster #monster lover #mothman my beloved #monster fucker #monster x human #monster romance

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year2000electronics · 3 years

Text

good morning. so every member in team bleck has a member that sort of ‘parallels’ the five member ensemble of the heroes and tippi. bleck parallels mario as the leader, mimi and peach are the girly girls, o’chunks and bowser are the muscle, and that leaves the last two-

(long post incoming)

the fact that 8-3 and 8-4 have luigi and dimentio paired off with eachother pretty much implies that he’s intended to be luigis parallel, and that nastasia and tippi are also parallels. not to be overly thorough again but i’m gonna spell out a lot of the ways both these parallels work

luigi and dimentio:

- have matching colour schemes (luigis inverted green and blue becomes purple and yellow, and vice versa)

- have the obvious parallels thanks to moments like in 6-1, 8-3 and 8-4 where dimentio and luigi/mr l have extended dialogues alone

- on the topic of mr l and dimentio, both of their major design traits are their masks and how one can’t be recognized with it on, and one’s true intentions can’t be recognized thanks to their mask always smiling

- carson mentions that dimentio was turned away once by the count before seeing that he had potential, much like luigi wasn’t allowed to come on adventures in pm64 until mario saw him handle himself in ttyd (this ones a bit of a stretch admittedly)

and just overall the fact that luigi and dimentio are the only remaining pair means they’re obvious parallels

tippi and nastasia:

- have mirroring but similar form transformations (tippi from human to flying creature, nastasia was implied to change from a flying creature to a humanoid)

- both are from blecks past, but only one of them was his love

- both of them sacrifice themselves in the name of love for the count (nastasias may have been platonic or familial), but only nastasia lives to see the end of the ordeal

- both are the one ‘non playable’ character in the group- you cant REALLY play as tippi and nastasia doesn’t get a boss fight

- pretty much the ‘brains’ of the group, the one that speaks on behalf of bleck/mario a lot of the time

HOWEVER. what if i told you i could also make the argument that THIS is also an equally valid interpretation.

now obviously the game pretty much confirms that luigi and dimentio are parallels through their fights but i could also argue that luigi/nastasia and tippi/dimentio have some parallels of their own, and why i wanna highlight this i’ll talk about later

tippi and dimentio:

- unlike the other parallels, tippi and dimentio are actively made so that dimentio can’t be tattled. he is literally the only miniboss or major npc like this (aside from maybe nastasia as she has no true overworld encounter)

- at the beginning of the game, both of them are the characters with the most mysterious pasts, as in little to no information is given (tippis gets given later, again i’ll come back to this)- dimentio is the only bar story that doesn’t help out much in terms of his past or lack thereof

- both of them have teleported a character to the safety of flipside in the events of the story (tippi in ch 4 and dimentio in the ch 2 interlude, though teleporting is part of his niche in general)

- have elements that may or may not hide a “true” face (is dimentio’s mask his face or is he just like that?)

- tippi and dimentio’s “moments” together are a bit fewer and far between compared to the others, like her strange out of place “i know you. you’re that...” and the fact that she’s the only one who survives dimentio’s ch 7 nuke (when he tells her directly he’s her enemy) and the fact that despite luigi being onscreen and PLENTY mouthy in his actual fight with dimentio, TIPPI is the one who talks back to you in dimentio’s optional game over

- this ones a bit of a stretch as it’s heavily based on theories that i don’t even believe myself but if you believe dimentio is the magicians son then both tippi and dimentio have a pseudo connection to pixls

luigi and nastasia:

- both are seen as the ‘right hand’ or ‘number two’ for their respective ‘number ones’ (mario and bleck) and generally play off of more subdued versions of their designs (nastasias glasses vs blecks monocle, her white clothes vs his beige cape and hat, her light blue vs his dark blue, luigis proportions being a bit more average compared to mario and a more subdued green colour scheme)

- both have a deep affection for bleck/mario and this is largely in part due to their pasts with them, where seeing their ability and kindness made them believe bleck/mario was truly brilliant (nastasias lines and backstory imply that she was around to see bleck as blumiere which would imply she knew him just as long or longer as tippi did), they also have spent more time by bleck/marios side than the others, comparatively

- both almost never have things on their own, their escapades are mostly ‘side stories’ (but they still DO happen: i’ll give tippi and nastasia the fact that they do hover around mario/bleck more than luigi hovers around mario BUT nastasia isn’t always around bleck, does her own thing, and is even in a meeting when bleck isnt vs tippi only ever leaving marios side when she’s forcibly removed)

- much like luigi and dimentio have their moments, nastasia and luigi also share moments (mostly in the first part of the game, keep it in mind): the most pivotal part of the direction luigi goes in this game is when he gets caught by nastasia, and nastasia is the one who tells him not to mess with the wedding

- in addition, many times throughout the game nastasia details to count bleck each minions defeat, often just telling him the messages they relay or punishing them herself, but specifically when it comes to mr. l’s disappearance, she says she’s the one at fault

- you could also make another design argument that mr l’s mask could also be a parallel to nastasias glasses as a large part of her character also comes from her glasses as they do the fact that mr l can’t be recognized- theyre her weapon (the red rims are also a bit of a gut punch when it comes to that)

- both of them wind up ‘taking count blecks place’ (as the final boss, and as the one to get hit by dimentio’s fatal blow) (interestingly this also puts them both out of commission for the final boss)

- this ones a big stretch but nastasia is seen openly sobbing at the end and luigi is the one of the four heroes who’s the most prone to tears (according to tv tropes at least)

so with all that being said, Why. why did i make this post. i’m sure i could draw comparisons to fuckin uhhh luigi and idk BONECHILL if i had the time on my hands. well the reason why is because i wanted to think about... what if we all looked at spm like this.

in the beginning, nastasia and luigi are in fact eachothers parallels, nastasias logic vs luigis emotion nastasia being the villain to defeat luigis hero yadda yadda yadda. but as the story goes on more and more of the luigi/dimentio parallel begins to happen. and this is because starting with chapter 5, dimentio begins to show his hand- to the heroes, but also to the audience. more of his plan is succeeding, and as count bleck grows more reluctant, this story becomes less and less about how to defeat him and more about how to stop the chaos heart from doing its thing.

we all know how that story goes though, how dimentio usurps the count and takes luigi with his little pizza hands. but i’m thinking that luigis parallels, luigis villains are really supposed to represent the arc 1 villain and the arc 2 villain- both nastasia and dimentio are the ones who are trying to make the man in green choose the dark prognosticus as the true prophecy, it’s just that as the story goes on, dimentio is the one who seizes control of the story. even to the effect that he’ll shift the very structure of the team around so that HE will do battle with luigi. so that HE is the one who is the obvious representative of the ideal host for the chaos heart.

cos who ELSE would it be, right??? :o)

*and here comes the obligatory disclaimer that obviously i’m not trying to say that THIS is concrete 100% what the writers meant. i just think this is an interesting interpretation i’d like to explore

#super paper mario #spm #dimentio #i need a tag for these big long posts or something. istg #moth flies #mario #paper mario #have at queue!

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic.

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them.

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately.

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin.

This has been going on for days now.

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work.

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you.

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away.

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell.

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house.

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon.

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out.

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting.

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely."

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend.

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight.

Or ever. Forever sounds good.

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky.

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire.

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules.

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on.

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future.

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet.

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse."

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is.

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam.

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you.

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King.

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred.

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you.

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?"

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred.

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses.

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house.

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights.

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy.

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either.

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room.

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by.

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow."

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts.

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight.

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance.

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them.

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP.

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky.

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness.

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms.

The sound is coming from Fred's.

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart.

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees.

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him.

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him.

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise.

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me."

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what?

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist."

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively.

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!"

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've -

"I was right. I'm losing you too..."

"Uh, what?"

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you."

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you."

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths."

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better."

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought?

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up.

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now.

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled.

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything."

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session."

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do."

"Mn."

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred.

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze.

"Mn?"

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state.

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all."

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?"

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you."

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated.

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside.

They're going to be alright.

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #bright eyes (listener)#frederick #vincent solaire #sam collins #will is mentioned

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Dissonance.

Word Count: 3.0k

Commissioned by the lovely @arthurtheghostmechanic.

[Part One]

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Non-Graphic Violence, and Suffocation.

Every morning, Diavolo would help you get dressed.

It was a daily ritual, one that’d begun the first time you’d shown more interest in burning his gifts than wearing them, and he’d realized he liked the way you squirmed as his fingers brushed against your collarbone, his palms pressing against the dip of your back and his hands tracing the shape of your waist under the guise of fastening a row of clasps that’d been sewn in more for exorbity than security. You supposed this was how he intended to ‘court’ you, as he put it, or it was his favorite method, at least. The others came and went, and although he still occasionally took the time to bring you flowers from the castle’s garden or refuse to feed you at all until you let him feed you by hand, he always had an outfit waiting for you by the time you woke up, he always knew exactly how he wanted you to look, and he always helped you get dressed. Always. It was one of the few constants you could count on, with a man as busy as Diavolo.

Today, he was taking his time. Swabs of silky, scarlet fabric had already been draped over your form and adorned with just the right amount of black and gold to outweigh any individuality you might have retained, and yet, you could still feel warm breath ghost over your skin as he toyed with the strings of an already-bound corset, making you unsure whether he was still contemplating how to perfect it, or if he wanted to undo the intricate knots altogether. You could easily step away, finished or not. He’d positioned you to face a full-body mirror, one of the many scattered around the corners of his bedroom, but there was space, and he wouldn’t stop you, you were sure he wouldn’t stop you. Of all the things he was willing to do, raising a hand was where he drew the line, even if your stubborn neutrality often left him gritting his teeth and appealing to your sense of defeatism. It should’ve been a reassurance, it should’ve been a god-send, but in practice, his self-restraint only made you feel like the villain. If he wasn’t going to shove you away, then you’d have to shy back on your own. And if you did that, then you’d be the one to blame for his subsequent disappointment.

So, you stayed in place, glared at the floor, and wordlessly willed him to grow tired of watching you squirm sooner, instead of later.

Diavolo, however, was not as content with the silence as you were.

“You’ve been quiet, today,” He started, unprompted, unasked for. There couldn’t have been classes, that day. Clearly, he didn’t have anything better to do than draw your suffering out. “Is something wrong, my love?”

You could’ve told the truth. It would’ve been easy to, but there was some twisted, contorted part of you that still thought of Diavolo as someone distant, someone you shouldn’t upset, if only because it was so difficult to dampen his spirits, and he seemed so determined to keep them up. Even after he’d taken you away from the brothers, taken you away from the life you’d wanted, locked you into a gilded cage, and told you to sing for him, you still had to remind yourself to hate him. Fearing him was second nature, but loathing him was another burden entirely. Rather than spouting out the obvious, you let your eyes wander, past the mirror and to the well-decorated wall that lay beyond it. “I’ve been… with you for two weeks, and I haven’t seen anyone besides you and Barbatos,” You starters, letting your gaze fall onto a portrait of a young boy with gold eyes and crimson hair. It had to be Daivolo, but that wasn’t the surprising part - there was only Diavolo. No parents, father or otherwise, a theme that carried into many of the other decorative pieces, as you were beginning to notice. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” He chuckled, shrugging off your flat tone with all of his usual carelessness. If it was a sensitive topic, you couldn’t tell, but you could never tell, not with Diavolo. You’ve only seen him truly, genuinely affected a handful of times, and you doubted something as simple as a conversation would be the thing to finally leave a permanent impact. “If you’re worried there might be a lack of guests, don’t be. The only reason you haven’t met a diplomat or an ambassador or someone new and exciting is because of our budding arrangement.” He said it as if it were nothing, as if you’d just signed yourself into a contract you had yet to realize the full scope of. In his eyes, you might’ve. You were still trying to work out what exactly Diavolo thought your ‘arrangement’ was. “I thought it would be best to give you time. Humans can be such fickle creatures, and not all demons are as understanding as I am. I don’t want you saying the wrong thing to the wrong person while you’re still new to playing host.”

You should’ve known better than to press. You should’ve, but you pushed forward regardless, another singular pair of eyes in another all-but empty portrait working to spur you forward, despite your better judgment. “Still, you’re only a prince. Your father--”

“My father is asleep.” He spoke with the calm, practiced tone of someone who’d used the same excuse one too many times, of a child, scared and alone, trying to convince himself of something he didn’t really believe. “He has been, since the day he decided I was capable of ruling on my own, and while I’d be honored, I doubt he’s going to disturb his slumber to meet my chosen mate. He’s not a factor you should concern yourself with, darling.”

You were beginning to think there was nothing you should concern yourself with, not here, not when Diavolo thought of himself as so honorably, valiantly reliable. You hadn’t thought you’d miss that, about life with the brothers. You were left exhausted more often than not, in over your head with Mammon’s scheme’s or Lucifer’s standards or the twins’ insatiable habits, but at least you’d had enough to do to warrant exhaustion. You never thought you’d long to trip over a cursed book on the floor of Satan’s bedroom or find the door to Leviathan’s room blocked off by a dozen too many boxes, and yet, you found yourself waiting for it, sometimes, listening for an out of place scream, anticipating the next crisis. Diavolo said it was too much strain, for you. He said you shouldn’t be held responsible for a family so unpredictable.

He didn’t think you could handle it, so he sought out a way to handle you.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “That sounds lonely.”

There was a slight pause, a hint at a trace of hesitation. The closest thing you’d come to one, during your time with Diavolo. “It was.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Taking kind of prolonged stillness was unlike him, but Diavolo managed to redeem himself with a heavy sigh, a shake of his head, an arm wrapped around your waist as he slumped gingerly against you, leaning down as he slotted himself against your back. It was a heavy sort of tenderness, the type a desperate man might seek from a remorseless stone pillar, but your resolve felt a little less solid with every drum of his fingertips, every shaky breath he let echo against the back of your neck. You were the one to speak, though. If only to stop yourself from breaking first. “And that’s why I’m here, right?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because you’re lonely?”

You felt him stiffen against you, going rigid at the suggestion alone. “(Y/n), I never--”

“You have other people.” It was more frustration than anger, the sudden awareness that you’d been taken by him, because of him, for him, despite all the luxurious, loving ways he tried to dress it up. “Your father might be gone, but you have options. There’s an academy full of students who’d be happy to find themselves at your side, there’s a kingdom of subjects you could choose from, if you wanted to. Is that why you ran the exchange program? You just didn’t have enough options, you wanted to see what the other realms had to offer. Were you going to kidnap Solomon, if I wasn’t good enough?”

“I wasn’t looking for company,” He countered, his hold becoming a little more secure, growing a little more controlling. It was oppressive, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other over your chest, making it more difficult to inhale as you struggled to keep your breathing even, but somehow, his affection did little to comfort you. If anything, it just made you want to rip yourself away from him more. “When I found you, I wanted you. There’s no one else I’d consider--”

“You have Barbatos,” You went on, letting your hands curl into fists at your sides. “He’s your friend, and you have him, and you shouldn’t need me, too. Even if that wasn’t enough for you, Lucifer’s still there. He looks up to you, he’s loyal to you, if there was anything you needed, he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find it. You have him--”

“I used to have him,” Diavolo hissed, the words nearly muffled against the nape of your neck. “I had him, once, but it seems that someone has caused his attention to stray.”

Your jaw clenched shut, instantly, but you made a point of narrowing your eyes at his reflection. It was a small rebellion, one he barely seemed to notice, but it felt too right for you to really care about whether or not he deserved it. “I’m sorry,” You muttered, frantic irritation fading into mild, blatant displeasure. “I didn’t realize how much you hated it when your toys find other people to play with.”

Diavolo went tense. He went tense, he took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and with little more fanfare than that, he relaxed again, as calm and composed and infuriating as he always was.

This time, when his attention returned to your attire, it centered around the ribbon choker around the base of your neck, the fabric as soft as a newborn lamb and as dark as the Devildom would be, in the dead of night. His fingers slipped underneath the strip of material, and for a moment, you thought he’d tear it off completely, but he’d never been that kind.

Rather, he took his time, untying the loose knot and speaking, as he did so. You were beginning to hope he’d talk himself to death.

“Lucifer’s interests align with his heart. He’s smart, and I do value him, but he’s a sentimental creature. He only pledged himself to me because of Lilith, and now that you’ve given him something of Lilith, he’s satisfied. He doesn’t have a need for me, anymore.” The choker was pulled taunt, for a moment, cutting you off halfway through an inhale. It wasn’t suffocating, but Diavolo made no move to let go. “And while Barbatos will always be my closest companion, he is a servant. His loyalty to me is a loyalty to the crown, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d put a knife in my back, if he thought it would benefit the realm.”

It took you a moment to respond, your voice coming out weaker than you would’ve liked. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s because I want you to be more than that,” He started, the words nearly a plea. Despite his tenderness and his airy tone, the choker was still biting into your neck, still making it harder and harder to breath. If anything, the task was only growing more difficult, one of your hands unconsciously finding its way to your neck, following the indents where the fabric cut into your skin. “You may choose not to believe me, but I’m not looking for power. I’m not looking for somone I have to chain to my side, if I want them to stay. I want you to love me. I want you to look at me and see someone who you couldn’t picture yourself going on without.” A pause, a ragged exhale. Again, you felt him shake his head, Diavolo leaning forwards just enough to kiss the top of your head. “That’s how I feel about you.”

By now, you were pulling at the choker, prying at it, trying desperately to put a hair’s width of space between your neck and that noose. It was barely a scrap, just a strip of material, and yet in Diavolo’s hands, it became a vice, a chain, a collar attached to a leash just couldn’t stop yanking. You kicked blindly, scrambling to throw your elbow into his stomach or tear at the choker or do something to make it a little easier to breath, but Diavolo only laughed, the sound low, throaty, warm and heavy and fatal.

“I do want you to love me. If nothing else, I want you to care for me. Worry about me, if you have to. I know beggars can’t be choosers in a situation like this.” When he released you, letting the choker fall to the floor and pulling away from you completely, saving your dignity wasn’t an option. You stumbled forward, gasping, choking, trying to cough air into your lungs as you groped at your now-tender skin, reddened bruises already forming a tight ring around your neck. Diavolo watched you passively, letting you stumble forward and brace yourself against the standing mirror. “I want you to love me,” He went on, slowly. There was a step forward, a footfall softened by the slightest trace of reluctance, and Diavolo’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “But I’ll find a way to live with it, if you have to fear me.”

It was all you could do to close your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, to rest your forehead against the cool, welcoming surface of the mirror. You couldn’t see your reflection, but you didn’t have to - your throat ached, throbbed, and when you forced yourself to give him a reply, it was raspy, as jagged as all the many things you wanted to drive into your kidnapper’s anatomy, at the moment. “I can’t believe I ever felt bad for you.”

Diavolo only grinned, letting you catch the edge of the expression in the corner of his eye as he stepped forward. A firm hand came to rest on the small of your back, but it was fleeting, chaste, as far from comfort as the light, almost unnoticeable kiss he pushed into your temple. “I’ve never been one for pity.”

With that, he stepped away from you completely, leaving you hunched over, your body shaking and your pride stomped so far into the ground, you doubted you’d ever nurse it back to its full health. You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve let him go, given yourself time to recover, and resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day sobbing your eyes out into satin sheets, but there was something burning in your chest, something hot and rough and ruthless, as it urged you to speak, to yell, to scream. You didn’t know if barking after Diavolo like his disloyal mutt would do anything to sate it, but there was a chance that it might, and that was a chance you were willing to chase after like your life depended on it.

“You can’t keep me here.” That was enough for him to pause, to glance over his shoulder as he moved to tell you that he was already doing just that, but you faster than him, this time. “I won’t let you keep me here. I’m going to get out, and once I do, I’m going to put myself so far out of your reach, you’ll be lucky to remember what I look like, by the time I’m done.”

He wasn’t facing you, but he didn’t have to be. You could hear his expression drop, his smugness not disappearing, but dampening. “I’ve told you, (Y/n), the brothers think you’re in the human realm, and the other exchange students have yet to express their concern. There’s nothing Lucifer or his--”

“Fuck Lucifer.” That earned you the slightest flinch, a subtle delay as he finally turned towards you, but you were past the point of patiently waiting for his reaction, for his approval. It was almost sickening, in retrospect, how you’d given him the benefit of the doubt after he’d kidnapped you, after he’d failed to have the decency to show a shred of remorse. He thought you were going to sit pretty and wait to be impressed, and you had to prove to him that you wouldn’t be so spineless. Brothers or no brothers. “I’m not locked in a tower. I’m not helpless. I don’t need to wait around for someone else to save me. I’ll crawl out of here, if I have to. I’ll claw my way out. I don’t care what I have to do, I will get away from you.”

You almost expected him to lash out. You might not blame him after that, but to your relief and your disgust, his composure never faltered. He didn’t raise a hand, did storm out or take you by the hair or do something violent and ugly and expected. It didn’t matter, though. His aggression was repressed, but that didn’t mean it was concealed, not when you could make it out in every clench of his jaw, in the way his head cocked just a little too far to the side. In the stretched, seamless, sadistic smile that soon found its way to his lips, only reassuring you that your new resolve would’ve been necessary, whether or not you were the one to provoke him.

“I’d like to see you try.”

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princeicarus · 3 years

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hi ilan!! do you have any emmeline or mary headcanons (not necessarily as a ship, just whatever <33)

BESTIE HI sorry it took me so long to answer this!!!! yes yes i have sooo many ok. so i did an emmeline one a bit ago, here is the link for that!!

here are some mary hcs and a bit more emmeline for u!!!

mary macdonald

⁃ east asian & english (baba is asian, mum is from england, the three of them moved to luton when she was a baby)

⁃ blue eyes & very long, dark straight hair

⁃ lesbian but. extreme comphet

⁃ demisexual

⁃ very, very shy & quiet

⁃ bullied as a kid

⁃ muggle born (not a hc but its relevant)

⁃ fav color is orange but she doesn’t wear it often bc. bullies lol

⁃ had a relationship with benjy fenwick in her fifth year before realizing she was a lesbian

⁃ doesn’t like to swear, but does so sometimes to try to impress lily evans, aka her big fat lesbian crush <3

⁃ (lily knows she hates doing it so she just hugs her tightly and tells her not to change who she is for other people. mary cherishes that for a long while)

⁃ after the war, mary lives the most heteronormative life imaginable. distances herself from magical folk and marries a muggle man (i like the hc that she is mary cattermole, reg cattermole’s wife from dh)

⁃ totally a cat person. they understand each other

⁃ mary always used to wear tones of blue and grey and white, until her fourth year at hogwarts. then she began wearing anything she wanted without fear of bullying & got into punk culture, shaved her head with lily’s help (she really was super smitten oh my god).

⁃ loves listening to american jazz, it’s what her baba always played on the records at home

⁃ astronomy and divination are her best subjects

⁃ goes to the forbidden forest to feed the unicorns whenever she’s feeling thoughtful

⁃ gryffindor (canon) but always doubts the sorting hat for it. she doesnt think of herself as very brave

⁃ she and lily kissed once (okay, a few times) and they were the best kisses of mary’s life. she wishes she could take it back sometimes.

⁃ james potter helped her get out of her shell a bit. she finds him very funny, and acknowledges his presence in a quiet way. he always tries to make her included in conversation

⁃ although every time lily would rant about him she would offer good advice

⁃ very observant

⁃ loves scarves

⁃ loves winter

⁃ loves the full moon

⁃ she finds the shrieking shack very interesting. she loves horror stories and had always wanted to go sneak in, but was too nervous to tell lily and marlene and dorcas about it, so she never went. she always wondered what sort of creature made those wails.

⁃ fancied mcgonagall & was jealous of pomfrey before she knew what a crush was

⁃ patronus is a tiger. after the war, it changed, but mary didn’t know, of course, because she never did magic again

- doesn’t think of herself as having many friends even though she Does

emmeline vance

never buys her own popcorn at a movie theatre, always steals from someone else

always taking everyone’s food and making it hers <3

stealing a fry from helle’s plate and taking mary’s ketchup etc etc

LOTS of anxiety but pretends she is untouchable!!!!

sooo loud when she gets ready in the morning. flitwick has to reprimand her no less than five times a week about it

“adopts” all the poc ravenclaw first years (she's also a poc before anyone gets pressed lmao)

hosts game nights in the common room every thursday night

#mary macdonald #emmeline vance #hc #asks #!!!!#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #mine #ga-bitch writes stuff #ik i wanna come back to this

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url-is-url · 3 years

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Can you please talk more about valerie red huntress symbiote au ? Just general thoughts on how it would work ? I know barely anything about Venom but imagine valerie would get the symbiote from Axion Labs.

OH GOD OH NO OH GOD OH NO I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO BE AN AU I JUST WANTED TO DUNK ON BUTCH HARTMAN AND HIS PLAGIARIZING HABIT AND MY VENOM OBSESSION

First of all: I will be referring to the symbiote as Venom, a la movie canon, because I have a deep and passionate loathing for the past three years of Venom comic canon, do not get me started on this because I will not be able to stop.

Okay firstly: YES Venom totally comes from Axion Labs. I have not watched Danny Phantom since it was actually airing so I'm definitely checking the ole wiki as I write this but apparently Axion Labs was its own thing and then VladCo bought it? Idk how Venom got to Axion Labs, but it got there and the scientists were like "idk wtf to do with this" and just sorta. Put it in a drawer with a label that says "weird space goo" and forgot about it. (That is VERY MUCH a thing that happens in science labs you would not BELIEVE the shit you can run into if you start poking around old storage objects in labs.) And then VladCo buys Axion, and Intern Valerie is helping organize things and she finds the jar of lost space goo. Idk what happens after that; maybe she determines it's some flavor of alive and passes it to Vlad under the assumption that it's a Weird Space Ghost, maybe she drops it and Venom escapes and bonds with her. I don't know, the details of how they get together aren't important IMO, the important part is the interactions between symbiote and host.

Valerie is still in high school and this is very important to me. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom is between several thousand and six hundred million years old. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom has BEEN TO EARTH BEFORE! I am of the opinion that Venom is actually extremely knowledgeable about physics and chemistry and other like, not-Earth-specific things, because they're old as balls. So imagine you're in high school and you're in AP World learning about the Vikings, and you hear this bass-ass voice in your head go actually it wasn't like that at all and suddenly you're RELIVING some other creature's memories of fighting Vikings. Or you're in high school and you're in biology watching a video about octopus camouflage and this voice in your head goes we can do that too and your arm turns "invisible". Imagine you're on your period and you ran out of Advil and you think to yourself "I swear to god if this lunch line doesn't move faster I'm gonna eat the kid in front of me" and the voice in your head goes no, eat the one behind you, he looks juicier LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

Valerie and Venom get together way after Danny becomes Phantom. So Valerie has this huge crush on Danny, but then she also hates Phantom's guts. Venom has senses that humans don't so they can tell that Fenton is Phantom, and Venom regrets their life choices re:bonding with a human, because oh no, these bald apes are so fucking stupid. Every day Venom considers informing Valerie about the secret identity thing. Every day Venom remembers that Phantom's ghostly wail is extremely deadly to them specifically. Every day Venom does not tell Valerie about the secret identity thing.

Most of town is probably at least a little convinced that the huntress is some sort of weirdass ghost, because humans aren't that big. I headcanon Valerie as being short but muscular as hell, around 5'4". Venomized Valerie? Pushing 7' and built like Athena. People assuming she's a weirdass ghost pisses Valerie off SO MUCH, and it pisses Venom off too though for different reasons (I AM TAKING VERY GOOD CARE OF MY HOST SHE IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ALIVE I AM INSULTED BY YOUR INSINUATIONS THAT SHE IS IN ANY WAY DECEASED)

Oh hey wait, if Venom can tell the Dannys are the same person, Venom can also tell that the Vlads are the same person. Vlad has never demonstrated anything along the lines of a ghostly wail, so his secret identity is NOT safe and Venom tells Valerie what's what. Valerie is so disturbed, but then she decides to give Vlad the Homophobic Rich Grandpa treatment and pretends to go along with what he wants so she can get that sweet sweet tech, then she turns right around and does whatever she wants when he's not looking. Maybe Venom (as in the big lady) and Red Huntress are assumed to be two different people because Valerie works for Vlad as Red but then does her own stuff as Venom?

Carnage. Oh god, Carnage. So, the Carnage symbiote (often referred to as Red, I love a coinkydink) is Venom's offspring. In the comics, it is possible for a host to experience sympathetic morning sickness and shit in advance of the symbiote spawning. Please imagine you're in high school in a small town, and you are nauseous as fuck and having weird dreams and cannot eat enough chocolate (chocolate is a good source of phenylthylamine, which is a neurotransmitter that symbiotes need to eat) and one of your shitty high school friends goes "omg are you PREGNANT" and you know that whatever you say, everybody in the universe is gonna hear it. You've never had sex in your life but you still have a moment of panic like OH GOD AM I THE NEXT VIRGIN MARY SHIT and then your body roommate is like actually, this one's on me. DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND OR DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND. "wait Venom I thought you were a guy" "why would you think that i have a concept of gender" "...your voice is deep?" "humans are so fucking stupid"

The big weaknesses of symbiotes are fire and certain frequencies of sound. Venom is scared shitless of Ember McClain, send tweet.

There's a re-appearing ghost who hosted Venom when they were alive. This could be a canon character or an OC. Either way, the interactions maximally play up the "awkward ex" thing.

A better source of the phenylthylamine Venom needs to live is BRAINS. This is now a ghost hunger AU also and Valerie catches Phantom noshing on like, a ghost deer or something. Cue Venom SEE IF HE CAN DO IT WHY CAN'T WE

Hey Venom's an alien who is old as balls, it's called the INFINITE REALMS, there's probably LOTS of alien ghosts with opinions about symbiotes

One day Phantom gets hurt really badly and Valerie feels bad enough to go save his ass (if only because the only person that gets to kill Phantom is HER tyvm). Venom is very Exasperated Parent about all of these fool human children so they just. Pick him up by the scruff like a disgruntled kitten and drag him to safety.

Venom has a very, very low opinion of the Doctors Fenton. Venom knows one (1) thing about humans and that is Protecc The Children and these morons are continuously shooting at their own child. The only reason Venom has not eaten them is because a) Valerie insists that humans are off menu and b) Danny's ghostly wail is scary. Also the only competent ghost hunters in this town seem to be Sam, Tucker, Danny, Jazz, and Valerie. Valerie why are the only competent people in this town children. "i wish i FUCKIN KNEW"

I'm now headcanoning that Valerie has a Very Southern grandma or auntie just to have an excuse for Venom to learn Very Southern expressions. Please imagine doing something stupid and the alien that lives in your brain stem just goes "oh bless your heart". Please imagine that some asshole yoinked the whole town into the Ghost Zone again and the alien that lives in your brain stem is like "dear jesus give me patience" I just think that would be funny.

#please don't ask me to talk about venom i will not be able to stop a;lskdjfsa;lkdfj

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

- Chapter 5 -

Lao Nie did not, in the end, cast them out, but there was dissatisfaction in his eyes, a certain coldness in his dealings with Meng Shi in particular – he was never intentionally cruel, as Meng Yao might have feared, but his visits to her courtyard stopped, and their dealings returned to those early days when she had been a stranger he had agreed to host rather than a member of the family.

It wasn’t as noticeable with Meng Yao, shifting from being treated as a ward of the family to a sect disciple like all the others, but it was – still noticeable.

Meng Yao tried not to complain, especially after the first time he overheard Nie Mingjue arguing with his father in his study about it. The study was built with thick stone and lined with tapestries to boot, but two explosive Nie tempers raging against each other was not an easy thing to muffle, especially to someone as good as eavesdropping as Meng Yao. The gist of it was that Nie Mingjue didn’t care about the politics of it, about the loss of face, and the only thing his father said that had even a slight impact on him was that it meant that they didn’t trust them.

There had been a brief moment of silence, the words hitting their mark and leaving a wound, and then Nie Mingjue started arguing again.

It wasn’t true that Meng Yao didn’t trust him, but Meng Yao didn’t know how to make that clear. If he told Nie Mingjue that he trusted him, Nie Mingjue would believe him, because they were brothers and good brothers believed each other, but it would be something he would do purposefully, intentionally, something he would make himself belief when what Meng Yao wanted was for him to know the truth of it deep down in his heart, in his core, in those steely principles of his that did not know how to bend.

So he didn’t tell him, and turned his attention to sect matters instead, determined to make himself useful.

(He could have gone to Nie Mingjue with his grievances, whispered them in his ear again and again until Nie Mingjue was willing to do anything for him – but love like that was a gamble that could be lost in a single throw of the dice, the way his mother had, and he didn’t want that. So he had to be useful, instead.)

Meng Yao threw himself into learning how the Unclean Realm operated, knowing that sect leaders were often too busy to handle the minutiae themselves; he studied the kitchens, the forges, the stables, and more with the same enthusiasm as his actual classes.

He tried to make himself useful, tried to make himself irreplaceable – and he was.

Being useful helped reduce the sting of the letters that appeared on his bedside table as if by magic, the letters that reminded him of his long-term plan to work his way into Wen Ruohan’s confidence by pretending that he could be coaxed into being his spy – the only thing that made it remotely tolerable was that Discussion Conferences happened only once a year, and Wen Ruohan was never invited to Qinghe beyond that.

The same could not be said of their other allies.

The small sects were easily disposed of, but not the Great Sects; of them, only the Lan sect came in force to pay a visit to the Unclean Realm – and so Meng Yao was properly introduced to Lan Xichen for the first time.

Lan Xichen was everything Meng Yao ever imagined a cultivator to be: kind and gentle, graceful and polite, a proper well-born gentleman that would never let a harsh word pass through his lips, while also being talented in every art, powerful in his cultivation, and handsome to the point of beauty – basically perfect, without any of Nie Mingjue’s flaws: his temper, rigidity, obvious naivete, and carelessness.

Naturally, Meng Yao couldn’t stand him.

Maybe it would have been different if he’d met him a few years earlier, or even a few years later. Maybe he would have felt seen, seen and appreciated, because Lan Xichen truly did seem to appreciate him, his talents, his intelligence, everything. Maybe Lan Xichen would have become the white moonlight in his heart, forever out of reach, or maybe Meng Yao would have let his worst tendencies overtake him until he sought to conquer him, to lie to him until he stood by his side even to the point of forsaking his own principles, to keep him all for himself and no one else, because Lan Xichen’s one flaw was that he was too much a gentleman, that he gave out trust as if it were nothing and always thought the best of people, that he sympathized with whoever seemed to spill their heart to him first –

Meng Yao could have had him wrapped around his little finger in no time.

You say you’re his friend, Meng Yao thought, glaring, but you were at that awful Discussion Conference last year, too, and where were you when he needed you? Asleep, that’s where!

Possibly he was a little jealous.

Jealous of the way Nie Mingjue seemed flattered by Lan Xichen’s attention, almost riveted by it, as if Lan Xichen were better than he was and his views more important; jealous of the way Nie Huaisang’s eyes were always trained on the “pretty gege” that came to visit them every morning; jealous of how Lan Xichen seemed to have everything Meng Yao had ever wanted in the world served up to him on a platter.

No, he couldn’t stand him, perfect creature that he was. Meng Yao would make nice with him and wait for him to leave, and that would be that.

Naturally, about a week after he made that decision, Lan Xichen found Meng Yao alone in the garden one afternoon and confessed his affections.

“I…what?” Meng Yao gaped at him. “You like me?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were beautiful when they flushed red. “I admire you.”

He’d said more than that – he’d said that Meng Yao was brilliant and graceful, thoughtful and level-headed, talented and hard-working, a tragic figure that had overcome his circumstances through his own efforts – but Meng Yao was still having trouble believing he’d managed to pull the wool over this beautiful boy’s eyes without even trying.

(Meng Yao was all of those things, yes, except that he was also a spiteful son of a bitch and after enough years with the Nie sect, which valued straightforwardness and honesty, he was self-aware enough to know it.)

If he still listened to his mother’s advice above his own instincts, perhaps Meng Yao would have smiled shyly, averted his eyes and accepted the compliment, perhaps offered to hold his hand while he was there – per Nie sect rules, they weren’t old enough for more than butterfly kisses, so even if he was repulsed, which he secretly wasn’t at all, he could have managed it – and maybe suggested keeping up a correspondence, planning for the future. It was never a bad idea to have another patron in your back pocket, after all.

Perhaps it was the corruption of the sect’s principles, some of Nie Mingjue’s righteousness rubbing off on him, or just the fact that Meng Yao and his mother were having a bit of a cold period between them as she tried to get back into Lao Nie’s good graces (or worse, Jin Guangshan’s, even after everything) in what Meng Yao thought were all the wrong ways and for all the wrong reasons, but he decided not to do that.

He decided to be a little more honest, instead.

“Your view of me is idealized,” he said, more delicately than Nie Mingjue’s bluntness would have been. “There’s nothing ennobling about hardship, and being piteous can eventually become as tiring as being pitied. You would be better off waiting to learn more about me to see if you actually like me, or else you might as well just paint a picture and live with your dreams of me instead.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes filled with tears, even though Meng Yao had been trying to be nice, and he made some excuses before running away. When Nie Mingjue found him later, Meng Yao told him about it, and Nie Mingjue hummed thoughtfully.

“His mother is very sickly,” he said. “I heard that she can’t leave her house; per Lan sect rules, as boys, Xichen and his brother are only able to visit her once a month – otherwise, they only have pictures.”

Meng Yao put his head in his hands. “So you’re saying I accidentally poked at his most vulnerable point. While trying to be nice.”

He needed to get his hands on better information than he had. Maybe his mother had the right idea after all about figuring out what people wanted…

“I think it’s a good thing,” Nie Mingjue said. “The Lan sect only allow themselves to love once, which is a stupid rule, but imagine if he committed to someone and then realized he’d made a mistake?” He paused. “Not that you’d be a mistake, of course.”

“Of course not, I’m perfect and everything about me is more important than other people,” Meng Yao said, only somewhat joking.

Nie Mingjue cuffed him upside the head, but nodded agreeably – still a fool, after all these years.

“Still, I suppose that’s one useful connection I’ve ruined,” Meng Yao added with a sigh. “He won’t want to see me again.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “You’re joking, right? The only thing you’ve done is add ‘insightful’ to the list of qualities he likes about you. He’ll still want to write to you, I promise – only maybe he won’t be quite so quick to pity you.”

For once, Nie Mingjue’s guess about people turned out to be the right one, and Lan Xichen turned out to be a lot more tolerable when you could tease him out of his Lan-sect otherworldliness.

Meng Yao supposed he could stand him after all.

(He was so very pretty. Even in the brothels, with all the paint and tricks in the world, Meng Yao had never met anyone who looked better than he did.)

It helped that Lan Xichen had the good taste to appreciate all the good aspects of Nie Huaisang, who at four was starting to turn into an actual person – a lazy spoiled brat of a person, sure, but Meng Yao couldn’t really blame him for it, not when Nie Mingjue was the sort of person to yell ‘no’ at an outrageous request and then give in immediately thereafter because the person he’d yelled at looked sad.

The doctors confirmed that Nie Huaisang would be weak all his life, his body underdeveloped in the womb, but the only thing that meant was that Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue had to work even harder to make sure the third young master of Qinghe would have a good life, untroubled and carefree.

And they could do it, too: Nie Mingjue had a general’s mind and the strength to back it up, with a frankly outrageous talent for cultivating that Meng Yao had incorrectly assumed was the result of starting early but eventually realized from the expressions of their teachers was in fact idiosyncratic, and Meng Yao had the cunning and paranoia he inherited from his mother. His own cultivation was progressing very nicely, his outstanding memory helping him pick up techniques as soon as he saw them and helping him figure out how to best utilize his speed and flexibility – aspects that would have made him a good swordsman, though Meng Yao found that all those years of seemingly pointless training had strengthened his arms and shoulders enough that his only slightly subpar saber skills tended to catch others by surprise.

He thought he wasn’t far away from receiving his own saber, his Chiwen, right within the usual age range for it, and when that happened he would at last be safe, only one final confirmatory mission away from being a full-fledged Nie sect disciple who knelt before his sect leader to swear loyalty. The conditions for expelling a disciple from the sect were very strict, codified in sect law – barring any premeditated murder, rape, or arson or suchlike, once in, it would be very hard to force him to leave except if he wanted to.

He could stay forever.

He would stay forever.

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #xiyao #nieyao #my fic #my fics #three gates

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