nekovmancer

[nekovmancer]

reblog if it's okay for your mutuals to message you and create an actual friendship, not just interactions

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[nekovmancer]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[nekovmancer]

GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.

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Ramattra sketch.

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Grape-Flavored King. <3

I love Ramattra so much, slowly learning how to draw him well <3

Keychains, Stickers & more: novicere.etsy.com

My Twitter: https://twitter.com/novicere

[nekovmancer]

uhhh. happy new year. have a robot

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ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ♯𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ all my masterlists in one post

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ pick your poison

ㅤ⌕ㅤgravity falls ㅤ⌕ㅤoverwatch ㅤ⌕ㅤmcu

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ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ♯𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤall my writings

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ multichapter fics

⌕ Ford Pines

I love you, it's ruining my life one

[nekovmancer]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ♯𝐌𝐂𝐔

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤall my writings

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ oneshots listed by character

⌕ Otto Octavius

(not so) lonely nights  𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! burning desire  𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ imagines listed by character

⌕ Norman Osborn

having a crush on norman, your best friend’s father

⌕ Otto Octavius

being jealous of otto dock ock leaving you 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!

[nekovmancer]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ♯𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤall my writings ﹒all my headcanons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist under the cut .ᐟ

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ oneshots listed by character

⌕ Ramattra

broken porcelain 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖! heartless 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!

⌕ Gabriel Reyes/Reaper

do not make a sound 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ headcanons listed by character

⌕ Ramattra

how they say “I love you” relationship with a cyborg reader 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂! relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Cassidy

how they say “I love you” relationship with a social awkward reader

⌕ Reaper

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Reinhardt

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Hanzo

how they say “I love you”

⌕ Zenyatta

relationship with a cyborg reader 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂!

⌕ Mauga

relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Junkrat

relationship with a tall reader 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖!

⌕ Moira

as a mother figure

[nekovmancer]

I love you, it's ruining my life

bunch sad taylor swift lyrics always has me breaking my own heart writing fanfiction *sighs* guess this is my debut in the gf fandom as a writer !! hiiii

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, language, angst

“You are the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words still echo even when the sentence is already finished, growing faint as the seconds pass by but never fading at all; still on the back of your mind, replaying over and over again as if they were part of a broken record.

Once spoken, that fucking phrase couldn’t be swallowed back, less forgotten. God knows how long it would take for them to be gone for good, and not a haunting whisper to follow you through your worst nightmares; one of them now becoming reality.

But that’s not the beginning of your history with Ford. No, it's the end. 

Feels like carving the epitaph on a tombstone. In memory of a love which once lived greatly, now may rest forever in the cold embrace of death. Quote, the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made, unquote. Should you credit Ford Pines in the end? The motherfucker who just put the final nail on your coffin?

You wish you could tell him to shut the fuck up and leave you alone, pretending this won’t be anything but another stupid fight you will manage to forget tomorrow. Maybe you could’ve, if you weren’t too occupied with your hollow chest, asking yourself where did you heart go — or if it was too broken to even manage a last beat.

"What the hell did you just say?" you don't even have the energy to shout back at him. It all comes out in a whisper, one that is not enough to fit your anger; less your sadness. Sometimes, you've got to recognize a lost battle. Yet, this one changed the course of a whole fucking war, one you were exhausted to fight. 

So there you stood: the loser. Feeling small and insignificant as one of the particles of dust hovering in the thick air between you. The body count so far: your home, your engagement, your love, your heart. And the last thing you could ever lose, a loss to mourn for all of your days, was already slipping through your fingers.

Just one last battle to thrive: the tears threatening to flood through your eyes, which you were trying hard to keep for yourself. Ford does not deserve them, not anymore, not when he doesn’t show a single trace of remorse.

You knew he meant it, and that was the very reason it hurt so bad. Sometimes, retrieving the knife from the flesh just meant more pain. You should’ve let it there, rooting in between the bones of your ribcage instead of opening a fresh wound. 

"You've heard me quite well." 

Your throat goes sore, unspoken words scratching it, trying to climb out of your mouth. The last sparkle of a long gone flame lights up, enough fuel for you to bite back. "Right. So I am the mistake, while your freaking muse-"

Sadly, the great amount of bad words on the tip of your tongue didn’t have a chance to be spoken.

"Do not bring Bill into this again,” his words cut you off; more bleeding to stanch on the way.  Ford was responsible for the hollow inside of you, a quiet torment bursting out to destroy what was left from the previous catastrophes. Lies pouring from lips which once kissed you so dearly and now couldn’t even speak in your favor. “It was never about him, any of it."

"It's always about him!” frustration wins, and a restless tremble finds your fingers as the volume of your voice grows louder. It hurts to speak, to think — existence itself feels excruciating. Your last strings of hope were now cut, disappearing into nothingness. What’s left, you still don’t know. “There's no you and me, not anymore. Not without Bill, not without the portal.”

A shredded breath has your whole body shaking, your cue to remember breathing; unevenly as it may be, you still need it to survive, no matter how your frenetic heartbeat tells you’re going to the very opposite way. Whenever your anxiety hit such a peak, Ford would be the one by your side. Now, he was standing on the opposite corner of the room, staring at you as if you do not belong there.

In this, you both could agree. It’s been so long since you’re no longer part of his equation, but an unpleasant variable Stanford, the genius himself, can’t solve, which would end up better erased; long forgotten. 

“Fine,” you barely manage a mutter, rubbing your temples to ease off the ache pulsating through your skull. Someone could have hit you with a hammer and the pain would be softer. “Fiddleford is already gone, and now you want me out of the picture,” you capture your lower lip between your teeth, grazing the soft skin. The taste of blood somehow leaves your mouth less bitter, still not enough to stop you from actually being bitter. “Maybe it will give you and your triangle partner enough space to shove that stupid machine up your ass.”

He’s outraged, of course. Bill has become his everything, dethroning you from that spot you once thought was granted forever. How dare you speak so low of him? His muse, his mentor, his… fuck, to think of finishing this sentence is makes you nauseous. 

Storming out of the room with Ford hot on your trails, you let a few tears find their way out. It’s fine as long as he can’t see you crying, nor hear your strangled sobs under his own voice. You don’t want him to be a testimony to your misery any more. It’s terrible already the whole house seems to have eyes staring at you from every wall.

If Bill was actually watching, you can bet that fucking triangle is damn amused.

Your own thoughts are too loud for you to hear what Ford is saying, or best, vomiting at you. Yet, you can distinguish the screaming is there as you lead the way to what used to be your shared bedroom. 

God, when you’ve come this? 

The love of your life now inhabits the skin of a stranger, and you can’t bear his shit for longer than you already did. You could’ve endured anything for your Ford, but that wasn’t him. Where did he go? When did you lose him for good? But it’s a little too late to ask yourself these questions, and you know the damn answers already, so it’s pointless to keep the torture of knowing the truth.

You feel the urge to crash every small piece of triangular shaped decoration on your way. They are everywhere, in every damn corner, even in the pattern of the curtains when not resting upon the furniture — standing in the middle of your family pictures, among vases with dead flowers, a cemetery of memories from better times.

You stop your tracks for a while just to wander your eyes on some of them, lips trembling to conceive a faint smile at the sight of the portraits. One displays you and Ford outside a newly built shack, smiling from ear to ear as your faces are pressed together so tightly his glasses went crooked. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see a red blur in the bushes just behind you — a little gnome hiding just in time. 

Suddenly, it becomes harder to keep the tears away as reality hits you hard. Those times are gone, and nothing you could do would bring them back to you. 

“You don’t understand,” you can hear Stanford clear as day now, as if you had just emerged from underwater and abruptly became aware of your surroundings. Ford has been repeating this same bullshit nonstop from what? Weeks from now. Nedless to say you were fucking tired of such a nonsense accusation. “The work I’ devoted my life to is about to change the whole world for good and you can’t even-”

Your turn is so abrupt that Ford stops himself from finishing the sentence, swallowing a gasp. “Listen to me,” biting your lip to not curse at him, all of your strength is dealt into the final blow — more like a last resort. “You think Bill is about to make you someone as if I didn’t spend the last years seeing you as my fucking north already,” he’s a little taken aback by your sudden burst out, you can tell by the tip of his ears going pink. “I did everything for you, Stanford. Your dream, your house, your anomalies… and what the fuck you did to me in return? Not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as me for months?” shit, saying it aloud only made it sound more pathetic than it already was. “Or having the nerve to accuse me of not understanding you after everything I gave up to be with you in this shit hole of a city?” 

Ford's response was nothing but silence. Of course it was. What could he say on his behalf when you’re damn right? This time, though, you wish you didn’t.

But you waited for him to say something nonetheless. Anything would do, really. Worse than his rage, his hatred and the damn obsession for his muse was the indifference he has been meeting you with.

The meanings of you have been changed in his dictionary long ago. Did it matter now?

Every move of his was strategic, closer and closer to a checkmate — his dream coming true. And if you were to be sacrificed so he could win… well, a side effect. As long as his king was safe, pawns were pawns.

You’ve just taken too long to realise it.

“Don’t you think you can come crawling back to me after this,” it’s a statement more to yourself then to him; a reminder to not let him inside your heart again after all the damage Ford has done. “When your false god gets tired of toying with you, when your ego stops being enough to feed your delusion, I won’t come back to pick up whatever’s left.”

You stare at him — at Stanford’s eyes. He’s perfectly still, aside from the dramatic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he takes. While your eyes silently begged him to change his mind, to take back what he just said… his did not show any emotion but resolution.

Ford is a man of science. He would never affirm something with such a conviction if he wasn’t absolutely sure of it. And as it seemed, he thought of you as a mistake with certainty enough to say it out loud and keep his mind until the very last minute.

“Fine.”

So this is it. The end.

“Fine it is,” you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, dampening the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing; which is actually Ford’s. You debate whether to leave it behind or keep it with you while packing your things.

Ford doesn’t stay any longer after this. No goodbyes were said, and his last glance upon you earns a cold shiver running down your spine. You could’ve spitted right into his face and he would still be less mad than he was at the moment, thanks to your audacity of blaming Bill on the failure of your relationship. 

It’s not like Ford needed you, or anyone else at the matter. He had gifts you failed to comprehend, and a view where you were the one crawling back to him as soon as the portal was completed.

Delusion upon delusion… which of you were the worst?

You were left alone, but the whole house was watching silently — every triangle window had an eye of its own, and the dark corners somewhat got darker, casting enormous shadows around you.

Ford must be down at his lab, in the company of his muse… fuck, you don’t want to think of them and whatever they did when you’re not around. Which now would mean pretty much every time. 

It’s a bright summer day outside when you leave the shack, but not even the warmth of the sun seems to be sufficient to dispel the coldness clinging to your bones.

Your fingers are still trembling since the whole fight went out of track, and so they stood while you were folding your clothes slowly, still thinking that things would change by some miracle… and now, as you open the door to your car.

You tell yourself to not look back, and shit, it's not easy; especially when your own mind don't shut the fuck up. For the hours you spent wandering around the city, you leave the radio on the highest volume and keep the cool. You come and go until you’ve reached the "you’re leaving Gravity Falls" sign.

With nowhere else to go, you throw your engagement ring out of the window and speed up to God knows where. As long as it’s far, you suppose you’ll be fine.

[nekovmancer]

THE MYSTERY SHACK IS OPEN AND READY TO BRING AID TO THOSE IN GAZA. CLICK HERE FOR OUR SHOP!!

The big day is finally here! Thank you all for expressing your interest in the project leading up to this moment and for helping the cause. Preorders will remain open till January 15th. Announcement Art by @starryemeralds

Want to learn more about our various tiers? YOU'RE IN LUCK:

Do not forget that we have digital merch and are accepting donations on our Kofi. Keep an eye on our social media throughout our preorder period for more exciting updates and events!

STAY WEIRD!✨ - The Mystery Twin Mystery Bags Team

[nekovmancer]

event in Shambali

also some additional doodles

[nekovmancer]

I haven't been able to find anyone write about Moira as a mother figure (even though she would probably just use you as a test subject if you saw her as one or something xd)

But if you do decide that you'd like to write about her as a mother figure to the reader then it's your choice if you wanna make it happy or sad. I just want something more than just daydreams to be entertained by. :]

hello, nonnie!

I must confess I don’t see Moira as a mother figure at all, and when I've come to think of it, nothing good emerged. So- ye, I’ve decided to take it more to the angst and based myself in Mother Gothel to come up with the plot.

Here it goes! Hope you like it and thanks for requesting.

[nekovmancer]

Mother knows best

Moira as a mother figure headcanons as requested here

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, language, angst, toxic mother and child relationships, maybe a bit of narcissistic mother eeecckk

Moira is not motherly in any sense. Ambitious is one way of describing her, cruel is another, and both of them are perfectly fitting

So here’s what she saw in you: potential, nothing else

An experiment to exploit the limits, a little naive specimen for her to test on; the craving for humanity evolution never fading

And there you were, foolish enough to mistake her care for her project as if she was caring for you

She could’ve nicknamed you her “bunny” if she was ever affectionate… but damn she wasn’t

The said bunny parallels, to begin with, were never meant to be cute, but to show how fragile you are, how easy and volatile to manipulate, discardable and replaceable if it ever went wrong

In her arms, you could delude yourself with a warm feeling of protection while being pushed closer and closer to danger

Still, you’d do anything for that woman’s love, even if it was only a simulacrum of it: a small, forged portion crafted especially to deceive you 

And with time, you have it. Not love as it was supposed to be, but a twisted form of it. One that didn’t not come with any nurturing, care or whatever

Her love wasn’t based truly on who you are, but on how you behaved towards her and what you meant to her projects

You were innocent, desperate, willing to do anything she told you to, no matter if it would be risky to your goddamn life. Who wouldn't risk their necks on the behalf of their mothers, at last?

And what did you ever ask in return? A pathetic emotion to fulfill your need for affection.

Hell, you’re an easy one to love, actually

How can someone not when a being is utterly devoted to every single want of theirs? A perfect doll to toy with, tossing from one side to the other, just because you feel like doing it; no other reason in particular

And the delight of having someone in such a way

A puppeteer pulling the strings of a marionette, guiding their every move. That would be the perfect description of your relationship, tiptoeing between the lines of power and devotion, poison and corruption… 

Now, what is love when it’s sick and infected with egoism? Possessiveness.

Moira doesn’t see you as her child, but if you like to see yourself as such, she’s not protesting. She does adore the idea of having you to herself; more of something than someone

Not in a romantic way, for sure. She couldn’t care less for such frivolities. But she played the part of your mother, your protector, even your mentor sometimes

And acted liked you were in fucking debt with her for it, when the efforts to give are all yours while she takes, and takes again, until there’s nothing but an empty vessel crawling to her 

Oh, and if you ever tried to do something not according to her expectations… or even to speak for yourself, to question her actions, her emotions (or the lack of them) 

Inadmissible.

“I’m your mother, remember?” despite the cutting tone to her voice, she would still come closer, cupping your face with a reassembly of affection. But Moira’s grip is too tight, too demanding. She always wants you staring right into her eyes, the windows of the soul. Sometimes, you could only sense a chilling cold of nothingness. “Don’t you think I know what’s best for you? For your safety?”

“The best”. Meaning she would lock you inside her lab and run exhaustive tests, one after another. If you succeed, you would mean the world to her for the next couple of weeks, but if you don’t… 

Whenever you grow tired of her, her experiments, her constant search for a cure to herself, even if it means dooming you, it’s like she can smell your discontentment; an animal who can sense fear longing in the air before they strike

“Who else will be there for you if not me?” her hands cradle your face, your shoulders… your neck. A gentle menace. “Why would you doubt my good will after everything I did to you?”

Maybe that’s why. The damn everything

"Stop thinking of such nonsense," the hint of annoyance would be enough to make you shiver. But instead, she throws you to the same old loop: doubting yourself. "I would never do anything to harm you in purpose."

Every word pouring out of her mouth is pure poison, you know it; she knows it

But you can’t fight: nor her, nor the tears that will eventually flood from your eyes as you rest your head against Moira’s shoulder and cry helplessly, clinging to her lab coat as every sob means a violent tremble of your body

After all, you only have her…