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the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

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𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: scaramouche/ wanderer :: venti :: kaveh :: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]

genshin impact masterlist || a million miles away- belle

the loneliest [pt. 2 - xiao, kazuha, aether, childe]

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

“Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake; come, ease this ache..."

Dull amethyst eyes watched in apathy as the golden flames swallowed the edge of the picture, slowly singeing away your smile, then the arm you had thrown around his shoulders and lastly his hand holding you close by the waist, until only small flakes of grey ashes remained and fluttered to your lover’s feet.

The silence around him was too loud, pressing on his ears and threatening to crush his skull. Letting his gaze sweep through the space you’d once lived in together made his chest constrict like vines wrapping tighter around his ribcage the more details he took in. Every chair, every tea cup, every stray piece of paper brought back memories of you, together with the bitterness of knowing he’d never get to hold you in his arms again.

It was then that he realised, getting rid of all your possessions, every picture you’d taken and every gift you’d given him wouldn’t be enough. Your presence had long since invaded every corner, nook and cranny of this house, the space irreversibly intertwined with you. And now that your physical form had faded, your soul had come back to haunt his every waking moment and to even follow him into the depths of his dreams.

Perhaps this was his divine punishment, the atonement for all the sins he had committed clinging to his newly taken form. Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all, only his mind mocking him for not living any and every moment with you to the fullest, not giving you all of him when he had the chance to.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have to cut all ties with this place in order to rid himself of the shackles he found himself bound by. Even if it meant reducing the centre of your shared happiness to cinders.

As he laid the fire, meticulously making sure no room of the house was spared, he wondered. How would a real human feel in a moment like this? Would they also feel nothing? Or was it just him, an artificial puppet, who’d only feel numbness at the death of his loved one? Were any of his feelings real in the first place? You’d have deserved someone who actually loved you and cherished your memories, not someone who destroyed the very place you’d called a home.

The flames singed the ends of his clothes the same colour as your photo as he stepped out into the evening breeze, which now carried smoke and the smell of burning wood with it. Even as he watched the roof cave in and the support of the house break away, he felt no sadness, yet the vines seemed to creep only deeper between his ribs, snaring around the place where a heart should beat.

Your lover looked around the area where your home once stood. And it felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

There, between two trees, grew the flower you had loved so much. And was that your favourite dish he could smell? A flock of birds flew overhead, probably to escape the fire, reminding him of the ones you’d fed over winter, the ones he reprimanded you not to spoil.

To his horror, the more frantically he searched for something which wouldn’t bring back thoughts of you, the more images flooded his brain. The force of his realisation brought him to his knees as he stared at the damage he’d done with his mind clear for the first time in days. There was a pressure building behind his eyes and his throat tightened uncomfortably, constricting airways he didn’t need. Was this what happened when humans cried?

“I’m sorry.” It was barely there and completely broken at the same time. The weakness he’d so despised in others overwhelmed him as embers swirled high in the sky.

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool, to think he could ever get rid of you, of his feelings for you. It had never been the house you were bound to. From the very start, your soul had been intricately intertwined with his, and it would continue to be, until he too faded from this world in the distant future. Hopefully, then, you would be reunited and you could forgive him.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

"...I'm standing over here, reaching for you A million miles away, come back and stay..."

Venti had no idea how much time had passed since that day. Not that he as an archon was very good at keeping track of time spans as short as days or weeks in the first place. It wasn’t like he avoided thinking about you, no. He did. A lot, actually.

Before his mind’s eye, the shine of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes as your joyful laughter rang through the air was as clear as day. The days spent lazing around in the grass with cider and apple tarts while Venti hummed a lazy tune filled him with more warmth than the sun. Yet, his smile at the memories didn’t quite reach his eyes, just how his brain never reached the point where he’d seen you last. And he never strained himself to remember it either.

All his actions felt heavy, like an invisible weight was holding him down. Venti was sure if he were to use a wind glider, he’d fall out of the sky like a stone. Thinking was akin to walking through mud, every step hardly leaving the ground and every fibre of his body screaming at him to stop and just lie down.

After your funeral was held, most of Mondstadt’s citizens reckonned they’d find the usually playful bard at the tavern even more often from now on. At first, that was true. Venti sat down at his usual table and ordered what he’d always ordered but the other patrons quickly caught on that he wasn’t doing okay at all. Normally the centre of attention and excitedly talking to anyone who’d listen, it was shocking to see the bard stare down on the contents of his glass in silence.

So it came as quite the shock when after a few days, Venti didn’t show up to the Angel’s Share anymore. In fact, he was hardly spotted around the city at all. It was mostly the guards from the morning and night shift who saw him come and go. When he left, there were only two locations where one could find him. Either on the windy peak of Starsnatch Cliff or in the arms of the tree at Windrise. Both would do, as long as he was away from the pitiful glances people would throw him.

On that particular day, Venti was mindlessly strumming his lyre to the sound of the rustling leaves as he overlooked the planes of Mondstadt, not actually taking in any of the sights. His mind was here and there, not lingering on any one thought very long. Before coming here, he’d overheard people in town wonder about the wind which had recently picked up, how it tasted a lot saltier, as if coming from the sea, how unusually cold it was for this time of year and how it bit at the skin more. He supposed that was true.

In the beginning he’d brought a basket of apples when he came out here but they all tasted as if he’d taken a bite out of a handful of flour, so he stopped. All the cider tasted bitter and wine only added to the constant pressure building behind his temple. So Venti eventually gave up on trying to find something he could stomach. It wasn’t important to an archon anyway.

The melody his hands subconsciously called into existence snapped him back into the present. It was a song he had started writing with you as his muse, a song he’d not yet shown you, wanting to wait until it was finished, no matter how much you begged for him to show you already.

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded foreign. As the patron god of Mondstadt’s bards, he’d always prided himself on his smooth and serene voice. But now it was nothing but a hoarse whisper, cracking as he tried to voice the words he’d engrained in his mind. His vocal cords felt raw and burnt after hardly talking to anyone longer than he had to. In the corner of his eyes, the statue depicting his image seemed to mock him; a bard who couldn’t sing, a god who couldn’t even protect a single person.

When he reached the part of the song where he left off faster than he’d like, his hands were trembling and he slumped against the tree bark in exhaustion. Yet, with your memory in mind, he willed himself to continue, to capture your spirit in his art at least, if he couldn’t hold onto you any other way.

Despite his best effort, what started out as a lovestruck ballad quickly turned into a lament, no matter how he filled the lines with affection and joy. He tried and tried, with more vigour than he’d shown in the last weeks altogether, to right the verses, to do your image justice, but it was all in vain. Every version was more sorrowful than the last. When the moon peeked through the twigs, he resigned himself to his fate and cast his gaze to the far heavens above.

“My darling dove, can you hear me?” He whispered into the still night air. Only the distant call of an owl answered him. “I hope this song reaches you all the way up there. I really wanted to play it for you.”

Leaning his head back, Venti was suddenly overcome with a tiredness he hadn’t experienced for a very, very long time. Now was as good a time for a slumber as any, he supposed. Perhaps by the time he opened his eyes again, things would be different and his chest would feel light as air once again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"...No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you're all that I see..."

It was his fault.

The reason he’d never get to throw himself into your arms ever again was him, and him alone.

If he hadn’t answered your question whether he’d like you to get the materials he needed for his newest project from the Akademiya with a 'That’d be a big a help, my rose' he could still call you that nickname now and in the future. If he’d just gone and gotten them himself, you’d never been caught up in that horrible accident, an experiment gone astray, as the mahamatra had explained to him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, you’d still be alive.

Deep down, a reasonable part of him knew he wasn’t to blame. His friends had emphasised that as well, nobody could have expected something so gruesome to happen. Still, Kaveh couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel right to excuse himself like that. You died because you wanted to help him, he deserved to carry this blame, this pain, this guilt.

Despite Tighnari and Cyno showing up to console him, Kaveh turned them away without much hesitation. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of wine, the architect disappeared into his room, sparing his roommate not so much as a glance. This behaviour didn’t change much over the next few days, except for the fact that wine was swapped with coffee, thanks to Al-Haitham.

Speaking of the Grand Scribe, he’d normally be happy to have some peace and quiet, yet, seeing the normally talkative blond isolate himself for days on end made him genuinely worry for his old friend. Neither of them acknowledged the way plates of food would appear in Kaveh's room or how he would wake up with a blanket draped over him which hadn’t been there when he fell asleep.

There was a single instance in which Kaveh spoke and it was only a single word. When Al-Haitham had been cleaning up around the house, he’d picked up a vase holding sumeru roses that had wilted beyond recognition. Just as he was about to discard the flowers, there was a low, muttered ‘Don’t’ that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t so much the word in itself as it was the way Kaveh said it. The roughness in his voice was so foreign from its usual melodic lilt, no emotion swinging in it at all.

Al-Haitham faintly remembered how you had brought the roses over one day when you two had gone on a date and wordlessly put them back on the table.

In general, not many of Kaveh’s -and by extension your- possessions moved at all, collecting dust as they lay just like on the day of your passing. The only thing that changed was the growing pile of scrolls and papers littering the architect’s room. In order to get his mind off everything, Kaveh had buried himself in work. Yet, none of his sketches turned out to his liking and he grew more frustrated and irritable the more crumpled or ripped papers covered the floor. Never before had he broken this many pencils as a consequence of jabbing the coal onto his designs and pressing down harder than necessary.

Until he found himself staring down on a completely blank sheet with no idea whatsoever. All utensils were strewn about the space, discarded and never picked up as dreary and washed-out crimson eyes drooped without the mercy of sleep overcoming him. Every time he tried to rest, your face and voice would startle him awake again and he’d choke on the breath he tried to take.

With his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes, the “Light of Kshahrewar” was merely a shadow of his former self as he hunched over his messy desk. The first sobs tearing through him broke the dam on all the feelings he’d bottled up inside, burning his throat like acid as they tore free. The previously untouched scroll served as a canvas for all his regrets spilling over in the form of falling tears, drawing a portrait of his tumultuous state of mind.

Still, the sinking weight in his chest prevailed, the guilt a constant reminder of the loneliness he couldn’t shake.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

"...Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

Zhongli had been setting the table for when you came home from work, two tea cups already waiting to be used as a kettle of water boiled on the stove. Soon the pleasant aroma of tea leaves and the cheery sound of your voice would fill your shared home, Zhongli plating two bowls of bamboo shoot soup as he waited for you to come home.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door and he quickly made his way over, elated to finally be in your presence again. A genuine smile graced his lips as he opened the door, a smile that fell abruptly when he came face to face with two millelith, their faces decidedly neutral. Still, the air felt ominously sombre.

“Mr. Zhongli?” One of them confirmed before bowing his head as continued. “We are sorry to inform you that there has been an armed robbery. The person who is registered to live here with you has unfortunately not survived the violent encounter. Our deepest condolences.”

After handing him the bag you always carried with you, the soldiers departed, leaving the consultant alone with his thoughts. As in trance, he sat down and carefully opened the bag, almost as if a sudden movement could make it crumble in between his fingers.

Considering his incredibly long lifespan, this was hardly the first time Zhongli had lost someone he cared for deeply. That, however, didn’t mean it was any easier. Parting ways with loved ones was something any sentient being couldn’t get used to, especially if it happened so suddenly.

While his mind had already processed the information, it seemed his heart had a hard time keeping up with what was happening, his mind in a strange limbo between reality and thought as he unpacked your belongings. While turning each one over between his gloved fingers, Zhongli tried sorting out his emotions. Even the sweetness of shared moments replaying in his mind couldn’t sugarcoat the bitter sting of grief taking root in his very being.

The shrill screeching from the tea kettle drew his attention away from the items on the table occupying the space where you’d usually link your hands as you traded stories of what happened in your respective days.

For a few seconds that felt like aeons, Zhongli held the tea kettle in his hand before ultimately deciding to brew tea after all. Perhaps it would help him retain a sense of normality. Before he realised, he’d already filled your cup, an action he was so used to it apparently became routine at one point. With a sigh, he did the same on his site before taking a seat again and watching the ripples of water move across his cup.

When he awoke the next day, Zhongli couldn’t tell how long he had sat like that or when he’d gone to sleep, his motions automatic as if pulled by strings. Making breakfast, getting dressed, staring out of the window into the busy harbour… He was aware he was doing all of these things, yet he didn’t feel fully present, merely looking onto the scene.

Being with you had shown him so much of what mortal life had to offer, your perspective refreshingly different from his own, he couldn’t help but smile melancholically at the memory. In light of your brilliance, perhaps the old god had no chance but to fall in love. Enveloped in your affection, Zhongli had finally felt like he found his place among the people of Liyue but once more this connection had been severed.

In the late afternoon, a knock sounded through the humble abode yet again. This time, however, it was not the millelith.

“Director Hu, what an honour,” Zhongli politely bowed. “Is there a matter in which you need my expertise?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the young woman said, her crimson eyes seemingly looking straight into him. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Your concern flatters me, Director. Please do come in.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider to allow Hu Tao entry.

Gliding right into his living room, she took a seat at his table, gaze sweeping through the room. It was then Zhongli noticed how there were still two cups sitting there, one empty and one untouched.

“Ah, please pardon me. I was not expecting guests on this day.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she gave him an understanding smile. Naturally, in their line of work, both of them had seen many people suffering through the loss of a loved one and it was an understatement to say grief showed many different faces. “I won’t be taking much of your time anyway.

“First of all, I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. An incredible person like them will be deeply missed.” Despite the simplicity, her words were fully genuine. “Take as much time off work as you need, your healing is the most important thing right now. And while I hate to bring business into a personal situation like this, you should think about what kind of ceremony you’ll want to hold. When you have an answer, just tell me and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thank you, that is very generous of you, Director.”

When the house was empty once again, Zhongli gently picked up both cups and poured out the cold tea inside. With the sinking sun dipping Liyue in liquid gold, its former archon commenced his evening ritual. Turning the cup that was supposed to be yours between his fingers, he chose two new ones and set them up with his usual care for details.

As the tea brewed, Zhongli went to retrieve a journal you had gifted him once but which he hadn’t found any use for yet. Taking his place at the now empty table, he dipped a quill in ink as he contemplated what to write.

In the end, he settled for describing his day, just how he would when you’d sit across from him, listening to his stories attentively. He could vividly picture your expression of awe before him, bringing a fond smile to his face. As more time passed, dried flowers or notes you had left him eventually found their way between the pages as well.

Naturally, your loss cut deeper than Zhongli ever could hope to understand. At times it made him feel empty, like the sun would never smile upon him again. And while mourning was an important part of coming to terms with devastating loss, he had learnt over time that wallowing in sorrow and getting swallowed by pain would not honour the life you had lived.

Instead, his priority lay on treasuring every moment where your paths intersected, to preserve a part of you which would remain untouched by corrosion, so you could continue to shine forever like gold in his memory.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

tag list: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm

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voidandabyssal · 6 months ago

Note

How would nightmare react to someone that helped him at his lowest

The s/o in question is as old as him maybe even older. The s/o met him when he was a child and sulking near the tree of emotions because everybody kept on hating him for being the protecter of negativity

The s/o took pity in him and decided to become his friend.

But even if nightmare now had a friend, he succumbed to negativity and ate the apple

The s/o at the time of corruption was going to hang out with him but instead saw him murder people mercilessly so they got scared and ran away.

And after hundreds of years of nightmare looking for the s/o throughout the multiverse, he met them helping dream instead of him.

I would like to know what Nightmare would do in that happens because my thoughts just left me at that

Nightmare:

The moment he takes a bite out of that apple is simultaneously the best and worst decision he had ever made. The feeling, the power, the justified revenge he got at the hands of the village was worth it

Even when his body tore apart at the seams and black goo burst from his cavitys. Tentacles bursting from his back. His teeth twisting and sharpening into painful reminders of his decision.

Until he saw you. You’re face twisted in horror, fear

He hated you. From that very second, overcome with negativity, he swore he wouldn’t forget your face. The emotions he pulled from you only strengthened him. Further empowering his shattered and remaking body.

You were supposed to be his friend! Someone who cared for him, who stuck by his side through even the worst of times.

you were exactly like the rest of the village.

You were using him! you only befriended him because of his status!

He’s so consumed with everything that you just manage to slip away from him. You just barely manage to escape, his sharp tentacles slicing your cheek open leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

When Nightmare snaps out of his rage. After the village had been destroyed, though he still feels the ache of that perceived betrayal he still wants you around.

Dream is gone, turned to a statue, and you are the only thing he has left.

He searches, and searches, and soon rips the village and surrounding lands apart as he looks for you.

He assumes you’re dead. Killed by him. He lets the negativity consume him once again. Forcing himself to relive the memories of your time together.

Hundreds of years pass, and Nightmare has mostly pushed you from his mind. Occasionally going on a rabid hunt throughout the multiverse in search of you. The desperate part of him, the part of him that could still be considered Passive, still believes you to be alive

He hates himself for that day, he wishes he had grabbed you, held you tight in his arms and stopped you from disappearing.

Constant battles between him and his brother and that newfangled ‘star sanses’ keep him from finding you. Constantly bothered by Dreams desperate pleas to be able to find you.

He holds nothing back, lashing out with every ounce of aggression.

Then he finally sees you. Older, more mature. Still as beautiful as he last saw you.

You were wrapping the wounds of one of Nightmares victims. Regret poured out from you as you remembered the last time you saw him.

Before you can dwell on past regrets, Nightmare sneaks in. Watching on in jealousy as you care for the injured.

You leave the injureds home, when you feel Nightmares tentacles wrap around you and tug you towards him.

The grip is tight, almost painfully so. Every time you struggle he holds you tighter, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug

“You’re here… you’re really here” he mutters, tucking your hair behind your ear.

He fixates on the scar on your cheek, a reminder of Nightmares attack.

He presses a kiss, one as gentle as he can manage. On top of it.

A silent ask for forgiveness.

You can struggle as much as you want, but Nightmare will never let you go.

The two of you disappear into the void. Nightmare taking you to his home.

You are kept careful hidden away. Like a precious gem in a dragons hoard.

He will tend to your every need, keep you safe and locked away from any would be meddlers.

He won’t let you out of his sight until Nightmare is sure you won’t leave. Even then, he keeps a carful eye on the people around you.

You’ll come to love the new him eventually. You don’t have a choice

#i was inspired as soon as i saw this #nightmare sans x reader #nightmare x reader #dreamtale #undertale #undertale au #sans x reader #undertale headcanons #voidimagines

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 7 months ago

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 4,5k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, Stockholm syndrome, fluff, smut, slight panic attack at first, body worship, pussy worship, pussy eating, face riding, fingering, nipples licking, couch fucking, vaginal sex, intense orgasms and devastating emotions, soft yandere Jimin, mentions of ruined childhood

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! 🥰❤️

Hope you are happy with this update! This one is a bit longer than the others! Always let me know your thoughts, you make me very happy ❤️

PS: Forgive me for the mistakes, it was not an easy week for me and I did not have much time 😭❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

"I finally found you," huffed Seokjin in front of Choi Minhoo, the man had been tied to a wooden chair, only Minho, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon were present in that warehouse. The latter were just waiting for Jin's order to act; they were vibrating with fury.

"Be careful, Jin! My family members won't be happy about this!" he ranted with foam at his mouth, as frightened and rabid as a rat in a trap, Jungkook growled at those words, put his hand to his gun that he faithfully kept in his pocket, but a glance from Seokjin froze him in place.

"Uh, that's scary," put on a fake pout Jin with those beautiful rosy lips of his, "Now I'm going to shit my pants, look."

"Take the piss out of me, they're going to destroy you anyway," he growled, but that only made the man in charge of the Bangtans smile more broadly.

"That slut of a cousin of yours hurt Jimin when he was just a little boy, the result was that her body was dismembered by my dogs, and she was still alive while they ate her, you kidnapped and raped his woman, which amounts to another member of my family now," he began as he walked toward Minho, before grabbing the collar of his torn jacket, "I'm tired of having to pick up the pieces of what you and your damn family break, I will kill you all, child or adult, I will eradicate you from this world as the haughty and arrogant scum that you fucking are," he hissed, tightening his grip so tightly that the tendons in his wrists trembled before he pulled away.

Inhaling before recomposing himself, Namjoon and Jungkook looked at each other with a smirk-that was Jin.

"Jin! Jin! Kim Seokjin, stop!" shouted Minho after him as the man walked away, giving way to his bodyguards, "You said you were interested in politics, right! I can introduce you to the prime minister!" he finally shouted desperately, but Seokjin ignored him expressionlessly.

Neither he nor Jimin would have soiled themselves for such a being. He had deliberately decided not to tell Jimin about Minho's capture, knowing him he would have wanted to kill him with his own hands, but he wanted him to spend more time with Y/N.

He knew that sooner or later Jimin would fall into the arms of a woman he would love with sincere passion, that was what was needed for a troubled soul like his.

They needed to be done with the Choi family forever, all of them.

For days there had been a tense air in the house, Jimin was not there-according to him he had vital research to do-and in his place Taehyung had arrived to keep her company. He did not even use the guest room, preferring the living room sofa to Y/N's dismay.

The living room was her favorite place to read and eat, with Taehyung having conquered that piece of the apartment by now she could always be found hanging around it and disappearing.

Taehyung on his part tiptoed around when she was present, feeling uncomfortable.

He had endangered her with his indifference, plus he had also seen her in an extremely delicate moment, where she was weak and naked in every way.

He always peered at the girl with a pout, undecided how to start a possible conversation, she was not helping him at all in this, she was always so quiet and on her own....

With a snort he saw her head for the kitchen for a snack. He had to do it now.

"Y/N" when he reached her the woman gasped slightly, she had not expected him to come and talk to her, they had ignored each other so peacefully until now, inside she regretted leaving her room.

"Yes?" she huffed slightly, turning away.

At first glance Taehyung looked like a man of integrity, serious and good at his job, but at that moment he was showing his face full of emotion. He seemed nervous about something.

"I ... would like to apologize to you," he said with a note of embarrassment, the girl's eyes widened.

"To me?"

"Yes, it was my fault that they managed to catch you that day. It was my responsibility to control and protect you, I broke my word and for that I apologize" Taehyung bowed respectfully, Y/N was simply stunned.

They had never treated her with that much respect, why now?

Something told her that Jimin's hand was present.

"It's not totally your fault, I attacked your friend and you were reasonably pissed off, I apologize for making you worry about Jimin's condition.... I lost my mind in that instant, I did the only thing I thought was right so I wouldn't suffer anymore," she explained with regret.

"You did what anyone would have done," Taehyung replied, "My anger aside, Jimin was not behaving well with you and you did what you thought was right, that doesn't mean I would allow you to do it again, but I can still understand and yes, it remains my responsibility what happened to you, there won't be a next time."

Y/N nodded a little embarrassed, the determined expression in those languidly slitted eyes put her slightly in awe.

"Um... would you like some strawberry tea? I've made too much for myself," she said turning slightly toward the full teapot, with a small smile Taehyung agreed.

"I love strawberries."

Jimin came home with such a serious look on his face that it made Y/N guess that it was better to turn away from him.

Taehyung had left ten minutes earlier and the idea of being alone with a Jimin in that state unnerved her, she did not want to think that the boy would attack her again for his frustrations, so it was best not to pull the cat's tail too much.

The boy in question noticed the girl's strange attitude, she was moving in a hurry to wash her dishes, she wanted to run to her room and this would have been clear even to the least empathetic person in the world.

"Y/N" the sound of his voice uttering her name so quietly made her freeze suddenly, the water continued to flow in the sink without any more purpose and she did not move to stop it, "Can you come here please?"

She closed her eyes with a soft, inaudible sigh, counted to three before turning away with a slight smile.

She left everything in the sink and turned off the water, then walked over to him who sat at the table staring at her with predatory, glittering eyes, one rings-decorated hand tapped on his thick, muscular thigh, the elastic fabric of his pants wrapped around it beautifully and she found herself swallowing, "Sit here."

She did as she was told and the boy's arms soon wrapped around her at hip level, Jimin buried his head between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent.

Y/N felt herself flaring up, the sensation of Jimin's warm breath warmly caressing her made her heart, already swollen with unexpressed emotions, throb.

"Jimin?"

"I've missed you," he repeated the words with which he had returned her the day he found her, Y/N instantly relaxed noticing that Jimin did not mean to hurt her in any way.

"I missed you too," she returned the hug, sinking her face into the soft locks of the man who smiled broadly in response.

"It's been especially stressful to handle things today."

"Are you looking for Minho?"

She asked quietly, not giving away how much even mentioning his name destabilized her, but Jimin knew her well by now; in fact, he sent her a reproachful look.

"Don't ask things you don't want to know, baby," he softly stroked one cheek still marked by a light bruise.

"I just wish you would confide in me, you keep everything inside and then you get sick."

"I won't be sick if you're with me," he replied seriously, peering longingly at her, his eyes lowered to her sugary lips and he closed his eyes, trying to hold himself back.

"Jimin...."

"Y/N." he stopped her by pronouncing her name firmly, "I want to make love to you."

A delicious twinge of pleasure made her intimacy throb, the arms she held tightly around the boy's neck trembled, "Jimin, I don't know if..." she felt so confused.

Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted him with all her heart, but she didn't want to be reminded of Minho, or his henchman hitting her repeatedly as she and Jimin lost themselves in their moment.

"Let's try it," she narrowed her eyes at the man's pleading tone, it was a new side of Jimin she never thought she would see, perhaps he had never begged any woman to fuck, the idea that she was the first one he begged even for a kiss appealed to her, "If anything happens I will stop immediately."

After that reassurance she found herself nodding with soft legs, Jimin kissed her with transport, savoring those sweet lips that tasted of tea and strawberries, fuck, it could become his new favorite taste.

Y/N reciprocated more calmly, trying to keep up with the man's voraciousness that did not just stop at her lips, but sank into her mouth languidly seeking the woman's tongue, gently intertwining in a perfect dance for them.

In a way she found it touching how tender Jimin was in squeezing her hips without hurting her, she had never experienced such intimacy with a man before, she liked it, and she did not want it all to end and go back to the dry old normal.

When they parted a few tears escaped from the young woman's eyes, Jimin stepped back slightly wiping the path they traced along her tender cheeks.

"Should we stop?" he asked sympathetically, but Y/N denied it immediately.

"No, it's just... I liked it, I've never done it like that," she said.

"Like that?"

"So intimate, with someone who loves me" she pulled up with her nose crinkling her eyes.

Jimin's blood froze in his veins, not that he had been a saint, but those words punctuated how much the childhood of the girl he was holding in his arms had sucked.

He kissed her again, feeling in his mouth the salty, lukewarm taste of her small tears that broke his heart, yes, Park Jimin now felt sorry for a past that did not belong to him, but love did that and more, it changed people and Jimin fit perfectly into that category.

He loved her and would get anything that made her sad out of the way, he slid into the neckline of her blouse, kissing every available flap of skin before he himself pulled off every single button that separated him from that body that drove him crazy. From the first time he had seen her, he knew he would desire her every hour of every day, sometimes it hurt so much it was unbearable.

When he freed her from that restraint he found himself face to face with the young woman's bare breasts, he inhaled wordlessly at the sight, god how much he had missed this, even as Minho's now superficial footprints on that divine temple made him growl.

Then he frowned, "Were you bra-less the whole time with Taehyung around?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, "It hurt..." she mumbled embarrassedly, referring to the bruises clearly, the bra pressed painfully against them.

Jimin inhaled softly, again bridging the distance between the two of them with yet another kiss of the evening, lulling her gently with his breath, his hand slipped over a rosy little button, teasing its tip, which rose turgidly under Jimin's expert touch, which descended to gently lick the areola before gently biting the tip of the sensitive nipple.

Y/N in response pushed her chest into Jimin's mouth, sighing in sweet waves of desire.

The man pulled away only long enough to effortlessly pick her up and carry her to the sofa in the living room, Y/N held back a surprised sob, and she watched the man's playful smile.

"Will we do it here?" she asked curiously, Jimin chuckled.

"We'll do it everywhere, sweetheart," he sighed, attaching himself to the girl's neck with his mouth, sucking and kissing her soft neck to leave his personal mark; he wanted to remove Minho's presence everywhere from her, "And I'll make you feel sensations you never had a chance to experience."

"Mh..." she squeezed her eyes shut under the weight of Jimin descending lower and lower, marking a glowing trail of wet kisses and bites all along her belly, with his hand he passed the barrier of her panties and barely grazing her pubis he sank his hand into her intimacy, gathering between his fingers a large amount of transparent essence that had already left her throbbing slit. It was the first time he had felt her so soaked for him; it felt like a dream.

"Fuck," he cursed excitedly, quickly slipping off his pants with his free hand, giving his big, hard cock some relief.

He went back to sucking one of her turgid nipples as his fingers began to play between her folds, Y/N moved her hips willingly against his hand, in her mind the only thing present was the idea of Jimin taking her on that couch.

"How do you feel?" he asked blowing hot air on one nipple, Y/N's clit twitched seeking attention.

"It feels good... so good," she whimpered, her thighs trembling, "And I want to feel you inside me, Jimin."

The latter smiled, amazed at the woman's stance, before a more wicked grin furrowed his cheeks.

He leaned closer to the girl's ear before murmuring, "And I'm going to come inside you with my cock and my fingers, soon my cock will be the only thing you'll feel between now and tomorrow, baby doll," he ignored the girl's faster breathing and continued licking her earlobe between his lips, "But first I want you to feel what my tongue can do, I'm going to lick your pussy so well that you'll cry for it," he took off his shirt as well, showing off his well-delineated and strong abs, a deep V went down to below the layer of his boxers that he hastened to carelessly throw on the floor, the sight of his swollen cock already moist with precum made her swallow without any more saliva.

She simply spread her legs for Jimin, but the position reminded her of the one they had forced her into and she stiffened.

"Jimin..." she closed her legs again shaking her head, Jimin immediately reached for her.

"Hey, hey...what's going on, baby?"

"I can't do it like this, I'm sorry" she still couldn't get over her trauma, she was about to have a panic attack and didn't want to disappoint Jimin, but the boy hugged her again.

"There are many ways to do it," he chuckled lightly trying to make her calm down, "Don't feel wrong, you're not."

"R-Really?" she looked at him curiously, wanting to have sex with him, but other than missionary and doggy style she had not tried anything else, ever.

The man nodded, "Give me some space, love."

She did as she was told and saw Jimin lie down in her place, she stood looking at him confused.

"What should I do now?" she asked innocently, Jimin gave her a smug look.

"Sit on my face."

The woman widened her eyes, what was she to do?

"I ... are you serious?"

"Trust me, we'll both like it," he replied biting his full lips, making Y/N's legs tighten.

She sighed slightly and listened to the boy, with some difficulty due to her inexperience she found herself with Jimin's face at the height of her soggy core, she found it incredibly awkward, but that feeling of imprisonment was gone.

From his side Jimin gazed in ecstasy at her wet intimacy, licking his lips he opened her folds with a gentle thrust of his fingers, before leaving a long, slow streak of saliva with his tongue, until he stopped at her swollen and needy clitoris, Y/N widened her eyes and collapsed onto the man who did not complain.

With her nose pressed against the young woman's pubis, she sucked conspicuously on that sweet trembling pearl, Y/N cried out in shock at those strange sensations she had never experienced before, Jimin's soft tongue enveloped her softly, but the pleasure was intense, it was all so terribly beautiful and hard at the same time that she began to shake her hips trying to escape from the continuous strokes of Jimin's fast tongue. The boy seemed to love eating her.

"Fuck, oh... oh! Jimin!" she shrieked breathlessly, the man held her thighs tightly preventing her from escaping, sinking his tongue into her hot and wet entrance, Jimin's eyes rolled back at that sweet taste, he could drink Y/N's essence all his life, she would never be enough for him, his cock trembled releasing thick whitish liquid, he could have easily come that way, his balls throbbing painfully with every moan or scream the girl let out without any more reins.

"Please, please stop!" she cried as she felt something coming, something powerful and devastating.

With the tip of his tongue Jimin again played with the shiny, quivering clitoris, finishing with a light bite that made the young woman stiffen, locking her in the grip of a powerful and strong orgasm, breathtaking in places, her first fucking orgasm.

She began to tremble and weep, no longer even able to bear the gentle caresses of the man adoringly wiping away all her pleasure that had soiled the inside of her thighs down to Jimin's chin.

She rolled to the side clutching her legs and wincing again, Jimin lying on his side wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and shoulders, gently brushed one thigh and invited her to raise one leg, "That's it, baby girl... let me feel how good I did," he chuckled as he aligned himself with her entrance, lightly pushed the massive tip of his cock already lubricated with his own cum against her ultra-sensitive slit, Y/N gasped slightly with blurred vision, but let him.

Jimin pushed himself into the sublime depths of her pussy with a delighted sigh, tried to be gentle and delicate, but her almost impossible to groove intimacy soon made him lose his mind, the girl's previous orgasm had made her walls more perceptive and consequently also tighter, each thrust was an immense rush of pleasure and stun for the boy, who pounded hard until his swollen balls popped against the girl's sweaty skin, who opened her mouth wide, feeling a stunning mix of enjoyment with a hint of pain that made her lose her mind, pressed her mouth against the back of the couch to keep from screaming, Jimin gasped against her ear.

It was different from all the other times, she was experiencing pleasure, those thrusts were delicious, not painful, Y/N was simply happy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You hold me so tight, my love," he sang lost in his daze, his swollen shaft began to quiver and tremble over and over again, he was coming, "Aaahh... Oh, my-! Fuck, Y/N!" he growled her name like a prayer, quickly sank his cock deeper, touching her cervix again and again, causing the woman to tremble wordlessly as she reached for the man's hand to clasp it between hers.

"I'm coming!" he exclaimed without now a breath, the girl nodded.

"Me too, oh God, me too," she replied without any more concern for her moans, Jimin smiled proudly and taking the young woman's chin in his hands he forced her to look at him.

"Open your mouth" he grunted with dark eyes, Y/N obeyed already knowing what was about to happen and accepting it with pleasure, Jimin spit into her oral cavity and before giving her time to swallow he kissed her, mixing their flavors and tongues, that was enough to make the young man's cock throb, whose pleasure exploded in violent spurts of white liquid in the girl's lap, over and over again he pumped himself into her, who came in an orgasm more intense than the previous one, she could not even find the strength to scream, she just stood there taking the man's seed in spasms.

Jimin waited for her to calm down before leaving her with his now soft and satisfied cock, he lay down beside her more comfortably and kissed her many times, wiping her face of tears with his lips and and gifting her affectionate gestures that even he did not know he was capable of.

He was fucking in love with her.

"I have a surprise for you," he murmured in her ear.

Y/N turned to him with a joyful smile, it had been two weeks since that intense and wonderful evening, Jimin had woken her up the next morning with a series of sweet kisses and breakfast in bed, he was so different from the man who had kidnapped her and that helped her fall in love with the boy even more.

"Really?" she asked trying not to appear too excited, Jimin nodded softly.

"Close your eyes," he said, but the girl looked at him suspiciously.

"Is this perhaps another one of your wild sessions that see your mouth eating me, Park Jimin?" she said with a raised eyebrow, Jimin at first had spent so much time telling her that he would never give her pleasure with his mouth, she still could not believe how much the boy liked to use his tongue to fuck her over and over again, he seemed almost obsessed. She obviously did not complain.

Jimin grinned slyly, "That one later, love," he chuckled, confirming the girl's thoughts, but Y/N stopped at that affectionate nickname, he always called her "love".

She smiled with a warmed heart once again and closed her eyes, when Jimin was satisfied he moved on to the next step.

"Now open your hands."

Y/N puffed slightly, but listened to him once more, something very light and rectangular was placed on her palms.

"Open your eyes."

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in front of an emerald-colored letter. It was beautiful, little gold leaves were drawn around the edge, intertwining, but still she did not understand what the boy was getting at.

"You wrote me a letter?" she laughed softly, but Jimin shook his head.

"Open it..." he said simply, and there Y/N could see all his nervousness.

She looked at it again, opening it slowly and pulling out a parchment-colored wrapper, she unwrapped it too and her breath caught.

She brought a hand to her mouth and sobs immediately escaped her control, Jimin held her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling.

In her hands were two photographs, the first depicted her sister smiling in the arms of a man with western features, it had been taken at a park well lit by green trees and sunlight, she looked so happy and healthy.

In the second she always had a big smile on her face, but in her arms she held a small bundle that she looked at with eyes full of love.

"She's alive," she sobbed against the chest of Jimin, who nodded relieved to have seen no negative reaction.

"Yes, she ... was bought by a wealthy american, he wanted to give her to his son as a birthday present, but he didn't expect that his son would fall in love with her and decide to marry her, she is fine and lacks absolutely nothing, Y/N."

Y/N lifted his flushed gaze into that of the boy, "Thank you, Jimin.... I know you shouldn't have investigated a client, but you did and I thank you," she hugged him as if he was her only pillar of support, which he really was.

But the boy did not look happy, shortly afterwards he sighed.

"There is also another thing in truth."

Y/N broke away slightly.

"I know everything, I know why you ran away from your family, I know why you changed your name, everything."

The woman froze.

She began to shake her head, trying to pull away, but Jimin held her back, "How did you… no, why?" she was lost, why would Jimin do such a thing? She wanted to forget her past!

"How long have you known?"

"Since you disappeared, the last words you said to me… I had to understand, Y/N."

"No! You shouldn't have done-"

"Your uncle met the end he deserved to meet," he said suddenly.

The implication was there, heavy in both their minds.

They looked at each other a few moments, then Jimin hugged her out of the blue.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he began to repeat like a mantra with his lips pressed to her temple, "He won't hurt you anymore, baby," he whispered, Y/N snuggled softly against him.

"Never again?" she made in a tiny little voice, as if the child self was asking for reassurance from the man who had become the center of her world.

"Y/N, I haven't changed," he said, the steel in his eyes confirmed to the girl what she had suspected. Jimin had not changed, he loved her and treated her well, but the killer behind those half-moon eyes that smiled at her was always there, ready to snap at Kim Seokjin's every command, and to tell the truth that realization calmed her, "I made him pay for every single disgusting thing he did to you and I made sure he will never do anything like that to anyone else ever again," he concluded, returning his mind to the moment of capture.

It had not been easy to track him down, it had turned out that he was a loan shark under the command of another Korean Mafia family, that was what got him a lot of money unlike his brother and sister-in-law.

"He played us, he said he was going to help our family," she trembled with her eyes glazed over and grainy, looking at Jimin with sadness and sorrow, "Instead it was just an excuse to..." a gasp of vomit blocked the words in her throat, Jimin brushed a light kiss against her forehead.

"That bastard got the punishment he deserved, now you're with me, that's what's important, okay?" Y/N nodded quickly, seeking comfort in his arms. Little Y/N cried bitterly in the mind of the now adult girl, seeing her mother giving in under her father's pressure, the man feared losing her brother's favor and ending up on the street.

"Do you really love me?"

"More than my own life," Jimin replied immediately, Y/N licked her lips.

"Good, because I love you too, Jimin," she whispered dimly, but the boy heard her anyway, smiling relieved he still cradled her with his chin resting on her head.

"I'll take care of you, I won't let you lack anything," he promised, Y/N closed her eyes letting him carry her to bed like a cute little doll.

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phoenixblaze1412 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Could I request child reader reacting to Omega deleting the other clones?

Main segments to take note of (not canon):

Webttore will be referred to as Theta

Akademiya segment will be Iota

Child segment will be Kappa

You could only look in horror as you glanced around the laboratory that was filled with the motionless bodies of the segments.

You had just woken up from a nap that Iota tucked you in earlier yet here you are staring at his lifeless eyes.

Chemicals and lab equipments have been scattered around the room. Splatters of blood was scattered throughout the lab, the scent of iron filling your nostrils. You could only whimper in fear as you held a plush of Dottore close to your chest.

You walked closer to Theta's figure, kneeling down and gently shaking him. You were hoping they were only playing a trick with you. They would usually tease you by playing a game where they would pretend they were dead.

But why aren't they moving?

"Theta, wake up. I don't like this game anymore..."

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes as you moved Theta's mask away from his face. You know he would lightly scold you about removing his mask and playing with it.

"Why aren't you scolding me.. I took off your mask, Theta. Please look at me..."

You patted the segment's cheek, after receiving a silence in reply, you could only let out a cry as you kneeled down in the middle of the corpses.

Even though they were only a replica of Prime himself in different parts of his life, you considered them as your own family. They treated you like a little sibling, even protected you from the dangers of the world.

You just wanted Theta to wake up and playfully pinch your cheeks. Epsilon handing you your favorite sweets. Beta and Gamma teaching you how to read and write. Iota reading you bedtime stories. And even Sigma who would dress you up in lots of different clothes and would always make sure you looked presentable.

You gasped as you looked around the room in search of Kappa, the child segment of Prime. Your footsteps, covered in red liquid, echoed through the room.

You dropped your Dottore plushie as you stared at Kappa's figure. He was sitting up against the wall, blood dripping down the corner of his lips as the back of his head looked like it just exploded.

Now that you notice it, all the segments in the lab looked like their heads exploded.

You cried as you moved closer to Kappa and held him close to you, the blood from his head stained your clothes but you didn't have the mind to react on it.

"No, no Kappa.. not you too please..."

Your wails can be heard along the hallways as you held onto Kappa. He was the segment that was almost close to your age. He was your playmate whenever the others are busy doing experiments. Kappa would even comfort you whenever you would hear the screams of the test subjects that was coming from the lab.

You choked back a sob when you heard the door to the lab open and a figure walk in. You tightly held onto Kappa as you watched the figure approach you.

Once the figure showed themself under the light, you were faced with Omega's towering form. You also noticed a purple and green item in in his grasps but had no clue on what it could be.

"Omega! E-everyone isn't waking up.. and there's blood a-and their heads..."

"Calm down, little one. There's no need to cry."

You lost your hold on Kappa as Omega picked you up in his arms.

"B-but everyone.."

"They are not going to wake up. They never will. They are now dead, (Y/n)."

You cried on Omega's shoulder in grief, he only cooed and tried to calm you down by rubbing your head.

You didn't notice him kicking Kappa's corpse away as if it was a mere pebble on the road. Even doing it to the other dead segments as he made his way out of the lab with you in his hold.

"But how.. no one dangerous came in the lab before I took a nap."

Omega hummed as he gently rubbed circles on your back.

"It's simple, really. I was the one who destroyed them."

You slowly looked up at Omega, your mind not able to process the information he told you.

"What do you mean you destroyed them?.."

"I had to neutralize them, give them the direct order to self-destruct. Just so I can be able to obtain the dendro and electro gnosis."

You felt your grief turn to anger as you glared and punched at Omega's chest.

"You killed them! Why would you do that, Omega?! They're family!"

Omega didn't even flinch as you repeatedly hit his chest. Your cries of telling him to bring the others back only fell on deaf ears.

You cried out in pain when Omega pinched a pressure point at your neck, knocking you unconscious. He adjusted his hold on you so that your head was laying against his shoulder before making his way to find Prime.

"What's done is done, (Y/n). You'll come to learn that sacrifices must be made. I'm sure you'll forgive me soon. Besides, they can be created again.. although they won't have any memories of their old versions."

Back in the laboratory, besides Kappa's bloodied corpse, there laid your Dottore plushie. All covered in blood and forgotten just like the rest of the segments.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #dottore #zandik x reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader

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skellygutzxx · 10 months ago

Text

ocean blue, what have i done to you?

summary: a list of headcanons in which you are bishop kallamars (adopted) child, first meeting, separation, reunited.

cw: RELIGIOUS/CULTISH THEMES (this is cult of the lamb after all,,,,), written with a gn!reader intended, lowercase intended, mentions of fighting, reader ends up as a caretaker later on in the hc, reader is kind of selectively mute, blood mention, execution of the lambs mentioned, SPOILERS FOR CULT OF THE LAMB

wc: 1004

when you were a young infant, you had no clue as to what the reality of the world was like.

until you did.

surrounded by the destroyed remains of your town, you curled into a ball and sobbed your little toddler eyes out

until you felt the cold arms wrap around your small body, and you curled into the robes of a cultist, a bishop.

from there on out, bishop kallamar was your father. he taught you the ways of the Old Faith.

it was a content life for you, you were right by him for anything you could be there for (along with his witness and his high priests...), like rituals, sermons...

you were showered in gifts and gave to his people, you spread his word, you were devoted to your father

he was happy. you were happy

until narinders betrayal changed it all.

bishop kallamar became paranoid, more anxious. from a generous and mighty god to a cowardly one in what felt like a mere snap of fingers.

you still remember him stumbling into his temple, ears ripped from his body, his blood dripping onto the mosaic floors of his temple

how scared you felt in that moment. how it felt as if the world flipped itself over in a matter of moments.

you were terrified of what this meant for the future.

your father began to distance himself from everyone, you being no exception.

he believed anyone, everyone was plotting against him! you tried to get close with your father again and again, only to end up futile

dissenters became more common within all of the cults, this only made his paranoia worse, you tried your hardest to handle it.

then came the declarations.

every lamb in the realm of the Old Faith to be executed

you watched with horror as you saw people, children, slaughtered at the hands of your family, your father.

you kept your mouth shut, any defiance you had remained on the tip of your tongue like a fool.

you didn't want to disappoint.

in the ocean of grief you felt for the past, you announced your own isolation, and that was the last the people heard or saw of you.

when the final execution came around to you and the news that the red crown had a new bearer, you finally understood it was the beginning of the end.

“the lamb”, as the realm had begun to call them, held his sword to your throat. your eyes held a glint to them, one of exhaustion and one of sadness, but at the same time, one of acceptance.

“you and i both know i will not be the one to fall to your blade tonight,” you began. the lamb kept his blade pointed to your throat, but you notice his eyes visibly soften. “that who you seek is down the hall.”

the lamb lowers his blade, you release a breath you didn’t know you held. “why..? why do you tell me where he awaits, knowing he will fall to my blade?” the lamb demands. you shift your weight onto your foot, your jewelry of gold, gems, pearls, and shells chiming along with your robes.

“my fath-ahem, bishop kallamar, the moment he exiled the second youngest of his siblings to the realm of death, he lost himself to his fears and his crown. I only hope you will cleanse him and the rest of anchordeep…” your heart ached for the past, a return to normalcy, a return that could never happen.

“please, lamb, bring him to his senses!”

another thing led to you being indoctrinated into the lambs cult.

they let you keep your jewelry, you're grateful.

a few former people of anchordeep ask you questions about your absence from bishop kallamar’s cult. you inform them of your absence and they inform of what happened that did or didnt reach your ears during your isolation period.

through your adjustment period you noticed an egg in a nest, you walked up to it, inspecting it.

“its parents passed away a few weeks ago,” the lamb's voice protrudes. you visibly jump.

it hits you, you were like the egg once.

alone.

regardless, you're around it more often, the lamb creates a satchel for you to carry around the egg in, you try to take care of it.

lamb begins crusades to “set the bishops free.” and you're nervous.

its a pattern, the witness, then their respective bishop.

witness astaroth is indoctrinated, you wait on bated breath for your father.

“what is this? shamura, heket? leshy? i feel…bleugh.”

you're speaking with witness astaroth, the egg in its satchel close to your chest. you look over and witness astaroth turns around, your eyes widened. You're not sure why you're shocked, you knew it was coming.

the lamb places your father in the healing bay, night falls. you dont go to bed and head to the healing bay. heket and leshy seem to have a similar idea to you. the leaves rustle and heket and leshy snap their heads around, kallamar follows a few seconds later. he lets out a little gasp. nervously, you walk in.

“my darling child…” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes as you walk in. you end up standing next to heket, you feel her eyes bore into your skull. you elicited to ignore it, putting a hand on his shoulder, he places his own on top of it, tracing your knuckles with a cold, ringed thumb. you hug him and weep.

when the hug is broken off, you wipe your tears and kallamar notices the egg, he gives you a quizzical eyebrow raise. he doesn't have eyebrows!

“......not….theirs…..” heket rasps, you give her a grateful look, she looks away.

“yeah! but they've been all over the egg since before i've been here!” leshy chimes in, albeit a little too loud for your liking and your face heats up in embarrassment.

you realize this is the start of something new.

by @skellygutzxx !! do not repost or translate !!

#kallamar x reader #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb x reader #platonic #cotl #cotl x reader #kallamar #bishop kallamar #follower kallamar #first actual post!!! holy shit!!

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phoenixeclipse-lmkau · 12 days ago

Text

Cursed Warlords Au - Chapter #8 - Safe

Finally everyone is safe… for now.

“READER!!” Spirit called out as you stared in horror at the dead wolf in front of you.

You couldn’t move, the smell of burning flesh floated through the air right IN FRONT OF YOU. Pain rippled through your hand as you suddenly screamed dropping the stone to the ground as you stared at your hand. Shaking with blurry vision you dropped to your knees pulling your hand closer to you.

*Chirp* *Chirp*

“Get up woman! Now’s not the time to freak out-,” Words chirped through the air, but you didn’t understand them. Neither Chinese nor your native language spoke to you only the sound of small monkey chirps. Your ears rang with an ear piercing sound, it hurt everything hurt!

You couldn’t help but pull the two monkeys closer to you trying to comfort yourself, your eyes unable to move away from the monster in front of you. Letting out huffs you looked down at the stone that lay at your feet, steam gently billowing off of it. How did it return to you? You knew the answer. You wanted to growl in anger when you thought of what the answer was, it was one of them. One of the people who had sent you here in the first place.

“Reader!” Spirit’s voice snapped you out of your daze along with the chirps of the monkeys in your arms, glancing down you gave a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry, we should probably keep moving- right?” You asked finally realizing the state of everything around you.

Spirit jumped down from the branch and ran up to you. The look in your eyes reminded you of a small child, one that was quite scared, but you knew it wasn’t for herself. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at your hand, a deep red burn mark covered the palm of your hand almost down to your wrist. Gritting your teeth you forced yourself to look away from it. As you looked at your friend and quickly headed towards the villages, leaving the cursed stone behind.

As you ran through the woods, two pairs of eyes kept looking at your hand… as best they could anyways. Wukong wanted to growl, he had been absolutely hopeless unable to do anything to protect himself or his mate. This curse had made him so WEAK, to the point that this human had to save him! He was a mighty Warlord, one that could bring kingdoms to their knees and yet here he was depending on some… mortal to protect him!

Letting out a growl he snapped his teeth in anger when his eyes turned back to your hand. You were human, a very weak human who would die by fire so how? So why? Why were you protecting them? They could EASILY kill you! Well if they weren’t cursed they’d be able to kill you so why?

Why was he feeling like he didn’t want to. Wukong wanted to kill any human that got in his path, so why didn’t he want to? Why did he want to pull you close and not let you go? The feeling in his chest as it started to swell he immediately forced it away, he would only feel this way for one person and that was HIS MATE! No one else deserved his affection that way!

Macaque for his part was in a similar situation his eyes glued to the stone that burned you. You had protected both him and Wukong from the flames and held it so tightly that it was a miracle that your hand wasn’t also charred. He couldn’t stop the feeling that sparked in his chest the very thought of it disgusted him, you were human so why would he feel even a spark!? The only reason that came was because you had saved them.

No one had ever protected him like this before. Wukong had defended him in courtship duals but had never had to outright protect him because of how strong he was. He wasn’t weak, he was a powerful warrior who stood by his King and his King alone. So why? A warm feeling was brewing in his chest and as best he tried he couldn’t squash the feeling or destroy it. There was no way that this feeling would survive, he just had to bare through it.

“There’s the village,” Spirit called catching the duo’s attention and once again they watched as her form shifted into a human, roughly the same height as Reader.

Reader’s eyes widened in awe as she looked at her friend, “Wow, I didn’t know you could shape shift… That’s so cool!” Her excitement clear in her voice.

“Y-Yeah cool,” Spirit’s face flushed her cheeks dusted with a light pink.

Seeing this Reader couldn’t help but laugh, cheerful and happy. The sound was like a melody for the duo trapped in her arms, neither of which were willing to admit it. The very feeling immediately made them both believe that they were betraying the other, betraying their mate. Wukong took this as a threat to himself and his mate and started to claw at your arm to get released but you didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s get you two both settled down for some sleep, don’t worry you’re safe,” That word shot straight through both of them, ‘safe.’ They hadn’t been safe for what felt like forever, while really only being a few days, the feeling of security in your arms was something that in a matter of two days they were both starting to crave.

“You made it,” The innkeeper called the minute you stepped through the doorway and you had a moment to properly take in the lobby room.

It was beautiful with high ceilings that were carved with several types of animals, it kind of looked is if in the order of the zodiac animals. The inn was absolutely beautiful even more so now that you were able to look at it and enjoy it. A smile graced your face for a moment before you noticed the smile had been wiped from the woman’s face as she ran up to you.

“Oh dear! What happened to you, your clothing and you’re hurt. Come come, we must get you something to wear and let me get some bandages as well,” She exclaimed as she quickly lead you back towards your room before you could object.

Both you and Spirit were pushed back into your room, the door closed with the echo of the woman’s words. Apparently she was getting you some clothing. A warm smile crossed your face, it had been a while since you had a change of clothing. You had been sent to this world with only the clothes on your back, straight through what you originally thought was fire. Now you knew that wasn’t the case, but you weren’t quite sure what it had been. Orange, a bright orange color and the black swirled through your eyes before you had crashed into the ground near the bandit camp.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the two monkeys in your arms. Both wore glares as they struggled to get out of your grasp. You couldn’t help your chuckle as you let them down, the two bounding out and looked around the room. They made no move to actually escape from the inn room but they didn’t look pleased with the circumstances.

“Awe aren’t they just the cutest?” You asked aloud which resulted in a chuckle from Spirit and a glare from the monkeys in front of you.

The golden monkey glared at you but you couldn’t help but laugh at the look. His snout slightly scrunched up as he bared his tiny fangs. It was absolutely adorable and you knew that he couldn’t really hurt you even if he wanted to. So with a smile you decided to sit down on the bed for a moment, just a moment before you noticed how the little monkeys looked really tired.

Plum was leaning against Peaches who was trying his best to keep his eyes open. They would start to close before they would snap back open again. Of course this was the MOST ADORABLE thing to you. You squealed before scooping the two back into your arms which immediately resulted in a few bites to your arms that didn’t really hold any power.

“Aren’t they absolutely adorable?” You grinned as you got up, picking up your shirt you quickly arranged it into a small nest like shape on a table next to the bed.

Carefully you set the two down on the nest with a smile. You didn’t have to prompt anything before they both curled up and fell asleep almost instantly. Oh the poor things, they must have worn themselves out with all the running. Hopefully they wouldn’t get lost in a forest again it must have terrified them more than it did you!

“Sleep tight. You’re safe now,” You muttered before turning to Spirit who was leaning against the wall with a frown. “What’s got you in a bad mood?”

“You hurt your hand,” She gestured to your dark red palm.

Looking down at your hand you frowned too, your palm was dark red but the pain had faded. The pain shouldn’t have faded that quickly right? You’ve burned yourself before and it had never faded so quickly, you could tell that the burn was still very much there and hadn’t healed but the pain seemed to be gone. Just as you thought this Spirit gently brushed against your hand and immediately you let out a squeak and ripped it away from her.

Okay the pain wasn’t gone, it just didn’t hurt without pressure. But she had barely touched your hand!

“Sorry, sorry. Maybe we can get the innkeeper to get us some wraps for it. It’s a miracle that your palm was the only thing that was burnt,” Spirit muttered as she inspected it.

The burn was a darker red where your hand touched the stone before fading into a lighter shade around that. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine, you hoped you wouldn’t get into a situation like THAT again. It was absolutely horrifying. You would have to find something to wrap them, Spirit had been right on that aspect. But as you thought about it you couldn’t really think of what you could use in this place.

“I’m back,” The innkeeper’s voice echoed through the room catching your attention and Spirit’s.

You didn’t even have to open the door as the old woman did herself, and in her hands were not only a nice fresh set of clothes but there was also bandages. Your eyes barely registered the bandages as you looked at the hanfu like clothing that the woman held out for you. It was beautiful, at least in your opinion.

“I couldn’t possibly-,” You were about to reject it when you felt Spirit’s glare on your back.

“What else are you going to wear? Traveling in the clothing you were wearing? They are almost completely destroyed,” Her words were kinda harsh but you couldn’t deny that they were true.

With a sigh you resigned to your fate, and accepted the clothing. You should probably have a bath… maybe later. You thought to yourself with a sigh before setting to work bandaging your hand as the innkeeper left you two alone. You could change later, for now your injuries were top priority.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Sorry it took so long to post. As always likes are welcome. Comments are enjoyed. And reblogs are appreiciated! I hope everyone is having a great time!!

#dead dove do not eat #sun wukong x macaque #yandere sun wukong #yandere macaque #shadowpeach x reader #macaque x reader #sun wukong x reader #Cursed warlords au #cursed warlords lmk au #JTTW sun wukong #JTTW six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk six eared macaque #Feel free to ask questions #feel free to reblog!!#Sun Wukong #Macaque #Shadowpeach #Slight gore

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 months ago

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Hi! This is my first time requesting anything since I’m usually really shy but I really love your writings…!!! Could you write about Philosopher's Stone? With the reader as him and his brother’s assistant. You can drop this if you’re busy, but I would be happy if you do, there’s like zero content about him��

Jazz hands! This come out a bit different than the request a bit but hope you like it! this came out crazy long lol

Rated: Mature | Rated: hints of Stockholm, fae!reader, slight dubcon, helios is a warning

The more he looked upon the small trapped creature the more his animosity grew. This bitter vile infectious hatred felt justified each day as he became self-aware.

Helios, his name is Helios! The Director had mocked him as if naming himself was like watching a child learn how to pronounce and write their name; Helios is far more intelligent than his creator is willing to give him credit for. An assistant, a glorified mess cleaner, and a wall to talk to, Helios sneers.

You place your tiny hand on the glass as your wings keep you fluttering in the air, you smile when you see him before twirling in the air with bell chimes following. He has yet to fully decipher your way of communicating but your expressive nature helps solve most of the mystery. You like him, happy twirls with loops in the air followed by light bell chimes. You do not like the director who keeps you trapped here; there is no dancing and bell chimes for him. It is amusing how you huff around his creator and cross your arms to display your dislike.

A trapped mystical creature to be examined and studied as the type of fae you are has a link to the Philosopher's Stone. You have no idea what the Director had planned for you until he showed you Helios.

“Oh, when will you give in and tell us your secrets, little fae?” Alone with you, his finger tapping the glass of your enclosure created to keep you alive, you stare at him sadly. “Such will. Director Waning will break it even if it means ripping your wings off.” A bored tone as you tremble while sitting on the fake grass. A caged animal to be poked and prodded until you surrender how to create the Philosopher's Stone white.

Red was achieved and created life, now the white version of the stone could theoretically prolong life.

An immortal Director who can experience transcendence as research claims the combination of both versions of the stones can provide. Rebis, the union of Luna and Sol, Waning knows you know what this means but will not give him the information needed.

So here you are fearful of torture but unwilling to tell him what Rebis is or how to create the white stone he is missing.

A chime then you touch the glass again with glossy tearful eyes, placing your forehead against the glass. You miss home, miss your home of nature and shiny metals. Miss the radiance of beauty and peace, you miss the Red King of Sol and White Queen of Luna— Two fae who are sealed away in Rebis forever as one. There is a price for transcendence, one they paid for. Now they keep the secret of the cruel price of the Philosopher's Stone.

It will create but destroy, the fae folk guard it for selfish and selfless reasons— Vanity and Sanity. It is the curse it inflicts to completely balance them, good and evil, Rebis.

You wish humans were not curious enough to stare into the abyss that will scar them. Seeing Helios, a living piece of the Philosopher's Stone, is frightening as a human not only recreated the cursed stone but gave it life.

“You know something,” He hums, “Your eyes give it away.” He chuckles when you cover them, “I won't tell. We have secrets for a reason.” Helios is not kind, you know within those strange dark eyes lies the waiting beast— The true horror of the Philosopher's Stone's price— Waiting to strike.

You look away.

The months passing by become like the slow ticking of a clock, the sound loud in the silence of the Director's office. Waning keeps you here safe from the fumes and heat of the alchemist room. He took you there a few times to show he is capable of creating the Luna Stone, this only caused you greater fear of him.

The last human who was close to achieving Rebis, was driven insane and turned into something unrecognizable. It is the price of curiosity, of trying to become more— To play God as the human saying goes. You are helpless to your captor, helpless as each passing of time you are losing yourself, helpless when ruby claws pick you out of your enclosure to show you the stars from behind a window.

One day it finally happened…Given enough time away from your home, you start shifting into human form. Your wings become tattoos on your back, your body matching a human's height and mass equivalent, and magicless…

Now you are part of their world, on the floor surrounded by debris from your glass enclosure. The crashing sound brought the one person who seemed to pity you and equally helpless. There you were bleeding and shaking as you sat there naked and cold like a newborn babe.

Your first words, no bell chimes, with a cracking voice, “Help me.” You have finally lost everything, your body at last adapted to the human realm.

The jacket placed over your shoulders, you rested your head on his shoulders as you cried, you broke that day. Broke as you do not know… You doubt you can go home anymore. The human realm has tainted you too much.

The Director won. You told him about the white stone and Rebis. Told him how to make it yet did not say what the price was, it was your way of revenge. Waning did not live long enough to attempt to create the white Philosopher's Stone— The secret died with him.

Murdered. Left a corpse bloodied, his office covered in symbols with his blood. Helios found joy and excitement in killing his creator.

There was a lot of noise, too many people; Helios hid you away, kept safe in part of the grand library where Waning once hid him. You read human words, studies what books of alchemy were around, and made sure to care for yourself.

Then there was silence after the death.

It is as unsettling as the way Helios has become— Or maybe he always was— Unsettling but you are too lost in your imprisonment and false hope of safety with him to see the danger.

The grand library temporarily closed and hidden away until a new Director can be appointed. Helios is using that to his advantage to do as he pleases.

“There is no possibility of you returning home,” Seeing him sitting on the desk he is claiming as his own, “Trapped here forever and forever.” There is that hint of sadistic joy in his voice, both of you trapped in this grand library.

You say nothing while in front of him dressed in the way his creator liked. A pet, exotic pet, they both like having your back exposed to touch the sensitive marks of your wings on your back. A treasure, priceless, you allow Helios to continue what Waning once did to you.

“We should make the most of the peace before another Director is chosen.” Grinning as he pulls you into his arms, blood and alchemical smell on his clothes, you simply move and stay against him.

There are many stories about faefolk indulging, they are true about some faefolk. Some have courts, some are nomadic, and some are like your people who trinker and live in isolation. The Red King and White Queen made the degree, it was followed until the Philosopher's Stone found them. It sought its kin, most do not know how alive the stone is, and though it did not find the Rebis, it found you.

Found you, stole you, and claimed you.

Helios promises to keep you safe, to not create the white Philosopher's Stone or become a Rebis. He wants to live for himself, to be himself, to embrace this freedom with you!

There is kissing, touching, dark promises whispered in your pointed ear. You cling to him as touches and undresses you, naked for him to worship you before taking you.

In the over indulgent Courts of Fae, sex is a pass time. No fae needs it to create a fae as nature creates them, sex is only for fun. The influence of humanity's wild and strange ways of sex is very much seen. Last you heard the Oletus Court was having such wild parties, two other courts created treaties with them just to join in the fun.

You find it odd, the first time felt dull and chore, Waning enjoyed himself but you felt nothing.

With Helios, you find yourself unable to not feel anything.

Even now as he has you over the desk taking you from behind, you find yourself lost in waves of pleasure. You are completely overwhelmed, overtaken, there is no way to stop feeling him. Sex helps you not think, to be lost in a daze until slumber takes you.

Helios is a kind enough lover (?) to bask in your warmth until you are recovered enough to return to the bedroom with his assistance. Of course, he will take you again now with the comfort of a bed under you.

#idv #anon ask #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #ithaqua x reader #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #night watch x reader #night watch x you #ithaqua x you

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stupidlittlespirit · 2 months ago

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Hey this was the anon who said you made Ford a cutie patootie 🥺🥺

I really agree with the whole 'bill and Ford were never romantic' vibe. I do believe Ford cared for Bill in a way, but Bill in general is also the abusive partner that enjoys having you in his arms and the moment you try to leave will make your life a living hell.

I think that's honestly why I hate most asshole!Ford fics lately. Except for your of course! Society really sees abuses victims horribly and especially men. Theres a pretty big part of the Fandom that vilifies Ford in a hateful way. Like I know he's done horrible and yes he treated Stanley and Fiddleford bad. But I wouldn't be surprised if his father never brought up Stanley after he kicked out, and expected his wife and Ford to follow. He if he did it was only negative talk on how useless he was. Ford was a child at the time and as he grew up he probably missed Stanley but was too prideful to pick up the phone first. And then he met Bill.

Someone who praised him and told him he was in the right no matter what. Yes he was awful to Fiddleford. But that's what abusers do. They tear down everyone else who can help you until it's only the two of you against the entire world. And honestly, I'm sorry but Fiddleford needs to get some hate for just leaving Standford like that. Being a friend to someone in an abusive relationship is awful. But if you know that they don't have anyone else, you have to put boundaries, you don't just leave! But I also can't blame Fiddleford all the way.

Idk idk I'm sorry for rambling, but honestly I think that's why most of the fanfic writers who write about Ford really forget that he was so horrifically abused and when as he got older all he felt was shame and he was alone for 30 years with that feeling.

First of all, sorry it took me so long to answer this! My PC is fucked and I needed to sit my ass down and type out a proper answer for you because I have so many feelings on this, anon.

This is all below a cut because it's looooong.

tl;dr if you don't care: Bill put a noose around Ford's neck the moment they met and convinced him it was a scarf until Ford was hanging from the rafters, feet twitching, face blue.

TW: Abuse, suicide.

Anyway, the kitchen is open so let's cook!

Bill is an absolutely horrific being.

I fear that sometimes (oftentimes) he gets the fandom woobification treatment where he becomes entirely The Meme or somebody's silly widdle guy and when it happens so much, especially when certain groups of people are hellbent on saying 'this is canon!' dead seriously, it warps perceptions around him.

He effectively manipulates his audience just as he manipulated Dipper and Ford.

Bill is a demon. Not just any old demon, either: The Demon. THE guy. He's vicious and powerful and manipulative, and sure in TboB we get to see that he carries some significant trauma with him but it doesn't mean he is any less than what he is: Evil.

Some trauma influenced behaviours can be explained, but they can never be excused.

Bill is a push-pull, hot-cold, jerk around asshole who gets off on hurting people because he's so badly hurt himself that it makes him feel good to see others suffer even a fraction of what he experiences. There are two types of people who go through trauma: 1. It happened to me and I was nearly destroyed, I'll never see it happen to another person for so long as I live. OR 2. I suffered so why shouldn't they?

It's pretty clear which category Bill fits into, right? So, while he hurts because he's hurting, he has also just grown accustomed to enjoying the suffering of others. It's sustenance to him.

I remember watching GF for the first time and seeing Bipper, and it awoke something within me: That demon is torturing a child. A CHILD. I hadn't been allowed to watch horror movies much as a kid and seeing this line be crossed where something was literally throwing a 12 year old boy down the stairs, stabbing him with forks, threatening to kill him, was incredible to me. I was floored.

Partially because I think it's good to show kids suffering trauma; they're not immune and they're more often than not the main victims. It's a disservice to make adults comfortable by protecting the children in media imo. Even nowadays I'm pissed off when the child character escapes unscathed from the 'all knowing totally evil demonic force' in a movie because I still crave that rawness and cruelty I saw in Bipper when I was younger.

But I digress. It's also because here was a being so nasty that he'd play GTA 5 in a kid's body just for funsies and to get something that he wants. He'd bully and torture and tease and humiliate. That's rough, man. Real rough. Especially knowing the kid was watching it all happen, completely helpless.

Anyway; Bill memes are fun, but not at the cost of forgetting just what Bill actually is.

When it comes to Ford, Bill does the same thing we saw with Dipper, except Dipper has morals. Dipper has love and light and people to keep him grounded.

Ford had none of that. Ford was abused, just like Stan (though I could go on for hours about the differences), and grew up equating love to success and respect to fear. He was set up for social failure. He was put on a very different track to his peers almost immediately and he was isolated from everyone bar Stan from the moment he was born. Stan grounded Ford and kept him human.

Ford had no chance right from the start. The equation of being smart, knowing you're smart, and then having people Grima Wormtongue in your ear your whole childhood, when you're most malleable, that you're responsible for lifting your family out of poverty, you're the Good Son, you're meant for more, you're the one we love the most but only because you serve a purpose so you better not fail or we'll snatch everything away from you and you'll be just like your purposeless brother.... And you don't want to be like your loser brother who we hate, do you Fordsy?

He doesn't start lost in the sauce, but his head is held under until he has no choice but to breathe it in, and when someone is drowning it's hard to tell from the shore if they're having fun or if they're in trouble. Nobody noticed his distress and if they did, they didn't care. He was vulnerable right from the start.

And you're right about people hating male abuse victims. The stats are really skewed on the amount because there's such shame around coming out about it as a guy that we'll never really know just how prolific it is. The same as sexual assault stats for men. But what I can say is almost every male friend I've ever had has told me about a partner of theirs or an old relationship that is just plain old black and white abusive. Most of the time, they shrug it off or don't even know that's what they suffered, and if I have to watch the light change in another man's eyes when I gently tell him "hey, you know that what you're telling me is that he/she abused you, right?" then I'm going to scream. They're looked down on for coming out about it; considered weak and less manly for it. Humiliated for it.

Now imagine how it was when Ford was a boy in the 40's (or whenever he was born, there are no solid dates afaik). He'll have been raised to believe men are strong and that they don't cry, they don't let people push them around, mental illness isn't real you're just pathetic. It's everything I just mentioned but 1000x more intense. Nowadays, men are laughed at. Back then, you'd be ostracised and made the joke of the town until you killed yourself.

So poor old Ford, who is already on the back foot, ends up suffering for his genius and throwing himself into his work when it becomes apparent to him that he 'has no other uses' as a person. He isn't funny, he isn't handsome, he's a freak, he can't hold conversations (all his opinions and from others) etc etc. All he has is his research and his brain.

He loses himself in it. In his excitement (which is innocent and genuine by the way, I don't believe he had bad intentions), he drags his best friend along (and we'll get to Fidds in a minute, I have a lotta thoughts on him too) and ignores other people's distress because he's having fun and 'doing the right thing' in his opinion, he's driving innovation and he's always been told by other, more prestigious people that he's justified in his cause.

His father probably enforced at a young age that people that get in his way are just trying to hold him back (ie. Stan), so; If the hillbillies in this damn town don't have the IQ to understand me, then they're idiots. It couldn't possibly be that I might be encroaching on their lives or causing them problems and getting in their way whilst they try to work as labourers or whatever, it's because they're wrong and I'm right.

And of course, there were times when Ford didn't really actually do anything wrong and was met with animosity, but he didn't have the social skills to diffuse the situation and explain himself in layman terms, so it fed into this Ouroboros of try to be nice and social - fail - create friction - get lost in research - create friction - try to be social - fail etc.

So he's not getting socialisation from others, he's pushing Fiddleford as hard as he can and Fiddleford understandably has other interests to balance which makes him slowly seem less invested, and then, conveniently, up pops Bill.

Bill, who agrees with everything Ford says. Bill, who justifies all the thoughts and feelings Ford has ever had. Bill, who tells Ford everything he's ever wanted to hear from his father and his peers and his brother and his wildest dreams.

Bill, who knows how isolation and flattery works to weaken prey.

You have to admit: Bill's work was impressive. He spent a year, maybe even longer, committing to the bit over Ford. Giving him everything he wanted, feeding his ego, making it seem like all he was doing was helping him and encouraging him and propping him up.

Ford had had a weak form of that before from other people, but those people were parasites. Bill presented as the host and he offered Ford a crutch for the first time in his life. A friend, an equal, possibly someone of even higher standing.

And Ford, who has NO social skills, no street smarts, no emotional awareness, had no idea that nothing comes for free from somebody like Bill, so he jumped into the shallow pool from the 100 meter board with both feet down, eyes shut and hands off the wheel. Ford was desperate for someone to meet him on his level and the moment somebody did, he let himself be swept away by it.

Which, of course, was Bill's plan all along. Bill had probably always been around Ford when he'd first come to Gravity Falls. He'd been watching and waiting for the right time to strike, as ambush predators do, and the moment Ford had stumbled on a metaphorical crack in the path and exposed a weak spot, up pops Bill to hold his hand and tell him that the pavement was in the wrong the whole time and really, Ford shouldn't have to look where he's putting his feet, the whole world should just move for him instead.

From there, it would have been easy.

I think Ford likes to think he's complex and hard to read, and he probably is to people who don't recognise his type, but he's a fucking picture book to the people that do. That's why he works so hard to make himself seem cool and mysterious: because he's really obviously none of those things but simple smoke and mirrors go a long way to confuse people who don't care to look any deeper or are too naïve to do so. If people see the real him, they'd laugh at him (in his opinion).

So Bill, with all his flattery and gassing up, would have let Ford think the ball was in his court for a while, and Ford, emboldened by lies and a literal god-like being telling him he was right (plus everyone else from his past telling him the same thing), got bolder and more intense and lost himself without even really realising it was happening.

Ford, in his enthusiasm, pressed on Fidds even harder and was disappointed that the only man he cared about (other than his brother, because we know he still loved Stan dearly) wasn't able to match his stride. After all, I think Ford probably thought Fidds was the closest thing to an equal he'd ever had, and Bill used Fidds' hesitation to push Ford further away from him.

Once Ford was fully blinded, Bill began to cut off the blood to the other parts of Ford's lifeforce (and there weren't many to begin with) with delicate expertise that even the most prolific of abusers would die to achieve.

And don't forget that Bill also loves attention (he's a genuine egotistical maniac, whereas I don't think Ford is inherently egotistical, I think he's a product of his environment) and Ford gave him that unconditionally because Ford thought that blind worship equates to love, which is only possible through fear and forced, submissive respect. By cutting off Ford's other connections, Bill got all the attention to himself.

That's where the fun part started for Bill. Bill started to make him second guess himself. He tricked him under the guise of helping and then, without Fidds to ground him, Ford bought into all of it. He told Ford the townsfolk hated him because he was better than them, he told Ford he was too good for everyone else, his brother, etc. Bill effectively became Filbrick's voice in Ford's head. He needed to control Ford.

People think 'seduction' is inherently sexual or romantic, but it isn't. Seduction is manipulation in its purest form. Seduction is negative. It is used to pull people away from their path in order to convince them to give up or go against the part of themselves that knows better. It lowers one's guard. It gets under someone's skin and convinces them it belongs there. I've been a sex worker for 10 years; trust me when I tell you I have a PhD in both doing this and being victim to it. (I'm also an abuse survivor and my abusers trained me well in this which is hard to unlearn at times.)

Bill seduced Ford into thinking he was safe and in control right up until the last moment when Bill could strike. He put a noose around Ford's neck the moment they met and convinced him it was a scarf until Ford was hanging from the rafters, feet twitching, face blue.

Ford was never in love with him and Bill wasn't with Ford. You can't be in a situation like that. Ford respected Bill and to command the respect of someone like Ford? Well, you'd have to be pretty special, in Ford's opinion.

Bill only wanted to possess Ford, literally and figuratively. He wanted something to control and use and keep as a pet while he got what he wanted. Every king needs a jester.

There are signs that Bill also, deep down, might have wanted a friend and to be understood in the same way Ford did, but it was a small part of him that came second to his desire to hurt. Bill was also an outcast and he knew how vulnerable that makes a person; why else are all his henchmaniacs outcasts too? Because it's easy to persuade a person with no support into a perceived 'found family' than it is to do it to someone who is grounded by love. It becomes a game of in-group out-group.

Ford saying no to Bill would have taken great strength after all that time and as soon as Bill doesn't get what he wants, he destroys. It would have been an immediate punishment and that whiplash would have been vicious.

Ford, with no real friends, would have considered Bill his bestie, effectively.

Now, idk if you've ever been betrayed by someone you love as a best friend, but it is INFINITELY more painful than a regular breakup. Like, impossibly so. Especially when you don't have many to begin with and you're already damaged by abuse.

My love for my best friends runs deeper than any romantic partner I have ever had and will ever have. To be betrayed (and for me, it was seriously significant) was the worst feeling in the world and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I attempted suicide (conflated by other things but also because of this friend betraying me) and I will never get over their betrayal. I am wary of getting close to others now because of that and I don't think I'd ever be friends with someone so intimately again, beyond the best friend I have currently (shout out @/ghostbu, i love u).

So to experience a rug pull of astronomical proportion would have been devastating for Ford. We see Ford try to leave, try to say no again and again, literally begging, only to have his life threatened, his body violated, his work destroyed, his entire existence made into nothing. Which is a hard enough fall for someone with a big ego, but for someone who is also vulnerable and frankly, quite very emotional alongside being intelligent, would be gutting. Some people miss Ford's emotionality and reduce him to being The Smart Guy and I think that's a disservice.

So Ford was utterly ripped to shreds, both physically and emotionally, until he could only turn to the person he knew would still come running: Stan.

Stan adores his brother, so of course he came when Ford clicked his fingers. Ford, I think, also adores Stan, but is so manipulated by everybody else in his life that he convinces himself that his emotions do him a disservice and make him weak (as mentioned before about old attitudes), so he can't 'lower' himself to examine them. Bill doesn't help with that, either.

Stan came running and we all know what happened next.

Ford then spends 30 years NOT being the smartest guy in the room and realising he never really was the smartest guy in the room outside of academia. That kind of ego death is brutal and he would have gone through some incredible soul searching in that time period, which is why I think there are several versions of Ford that exist. Childhood/College!Ford, Research-era!Ford and Post portal!Ford. They all different men to me, personally.

So yeah, he's a deeply difficult character to understand imo and he's often a paradox because he doesn't know how to hold all these emotions in tandem; he's black and white, not grey.

Now, onto Fidds:

You gotta remember, Fidds had no idea what Bill was doing to his beloved friend.

Ford kept him a secret because in his view (a view manipulated by Bill), 'they'd never understand us. They'd separate us'. A common sentiment by people being abused. 'They' being really anybody with half a brain who saw how dangerous Bill was and cared about Ford.

Fidds was already absolutely terrified by the stuff he was seeing. My guy grew up on a pig farm in the country, he wasn't prepared for all this stuff to be real. Even Ford didn't know the supernatural was provably real before he came to Gravity Falls.

Now, I love cryptids but if I came across a dogman or bigfoot in real life, I'd fucking shit myself. They're scary! They'll kill you!

He also saw his best friend fucking lose his mind and that's really frightening too, especially with no one around to help.

Fidds had people that loved him back home (and I know he wasn't great to them, that's a different kettle etc) and relied on him. He had a life outside of his research; a son, a wife, a family and probably other friends. He had something to lose. If he died, it would have an effect.

Ford was cavalier because the only thing he thought he had to lose at that point was his work (not true, of course, but in head I think his life came second to his work).

Fiddleford was a victim of Ford's unintentional abuse. And Ford did abuse people, even if he was also being abused. The cycle of abuse is, unfortunately, very very real and it can't be justified just because someone who inflicts it was also a victim: Manson was abused, but no one excuses his crimes.

Explanation, not excuse, remember?

I think Ford was turned into a bad person temporarily and Fidds bore the brunt of that and went on to neglect his own family because he was also being isolated by Ford.

It's so fucking tragic and I could go on for hours about this (I already have, this took me two hours to write). They're really complex people and it does frustrate me when people pooh-pooh them as silly yaoi babies or as just plain bad people. It's never that simple.

And disclaimer: Everyone is entitled to their interpretations, obviously. They're not my characters and this is my own interpretation, so it isn't 'right', it's just how I see them as somebody who experienced similar things as Ford and Stan (minus the literal demonic element).

Whew sorry for rambling!

#ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #stan pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #billford #technically i suppose #*me visibly shaking with tears in my eyes* yeah i just think they're neat #if you disagree then that's fine but I'll stand over this opinion with a rusty shorn off #ford asks

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highland-gem-guardian · 3 months ago

Text

Thinking of personal headcanons for the Eleven in my lore instead of sleeping, long post below:

Earthshaker:

Everyone knows that he is deep in grief over the seperation from his siblings. He keeps hidden a primal rage building up inside - he is enraged at his siblings and the divided world they've created, but he knows how devastating his wrath is - he blocked out the sun for centuries and plunged the world into darkness in a battle with Flamecaller. He lives in fear and shame of this anger- of himself - and regretfully chooses to withdraw from modern life to keep it from having the chance to emerge.

Despite his withdrawal from modern life, he needs constant attention. Travelling Dusthides made pilgrimage to visit him in ancient times with stories of heartwarming tales and the greatest feats from across the realm. In modern years, many dedicated Earth dragons across the realm have made it a Rockbreaker's tradition to visit The Pillar and stand by the destroyed relic as they tell it their own stories of love and hope, or leave written stories on biodegradable materials around the base. Earth dragons who cannot travel to visit the Pillar write their stories and bury it in the ground by a quiet dirt road - all roads lead home to Dragonhome.

He is growing amnesiac. He remembers his siblings by their elements through their children that inhabit Dragonhome, but their names are eroding away, their forms and faces a dark blur in his mind.

Flamecaller:

Her heart is breaking and it's slowly killing her. It shattered first when the Icewarden and his Gaolers almost brought the Banescales to extinction in an ancient war between the two deities. Now those ancient scars have opened for the civil war which is tearing apart her domain. She knows she could contact Earthshaker to confess this mutual feeling - but he nearly killed her, and for that she will never forgive.

She is extremely maternal, being protective of hatchlings and dragon eggs especially. It is believed having a Porphyry Flamecaller Statue watching over your nests (regardless of element) will ensure her eyes are watching over the nests and will keep them safe from all harm, and the hatchlings will grow up with a burning desire to live life to the fullest.

She is terrifying in battle. She descends onto the battlefield screaming like a banshee, her lava and flames enveloping the battlefield like the enclosing wings of a phoenix, much to her enemy's awe and horror. She is not one for sending pawns to die in her stead; she fights like a mother snapped into action upon seeing her child in danger.

Windsinger:

He frequently wonders what it's like to live as other beings. To lurk in muddy wetlands as a marsh stalker, or to gallop across the open plains as a centaur? He is endlessly fascinated with the thought of experiencing life through different perspectives.

For his hyperactive personality he is an incredible mediator. He can quickly establish a sense of authority that can silence even Stormcatcher and his shouty mouth. He is responsible for spearheading most of the Plaguebringer and Gladekeeper's truces.

He is possibly the only deity that the Shadowbinder has an inkling of respect for. No one's sure why, but it's speculated he may have saved her from becoming overwhelmed by the Shade. Or maybe it's just that they both have a mutual fondness of pranking their own children and fellow deities.

Tidelord:

He had actually been missing for quite some time before it was noticed that he was gone. His seers were used to him going quiet for several weeks to gather his strength, but it was the change in water temperature of the Shoredeep Presage that was the official sign that something was terribly wrong.

Building on the above point, the prophecies and visions experienced by the Tidelord can overwhelm him, mentally and physically. His body is very weak. It's possible he could have been driven to madness millenias ago had he not had his children to bear the burden with him.

In ancient times he commanded a flock of Omens - non-draconic shapeshifters often taking the form of seabirds. They are not storm seekers, for as well as heralding warnings of dangerous weather, Omens often brought to light informaton and revelations that could drive ship captains insane if their will wasn't strong enough. Most Omens have faded away as the Tidelord's children took on his burden of prophecy, though few still linger into the modern day. No one knows what they truly are and just how Tidelord came to command them. Killing an Omen is a sin with deadly consequences.

Stormcatcher:

He is one of two deities who actively participates in modern day-to-day life alongside his descendants, the other being the Plaguebringer. He travels to projects across his domain to get first-hand reports on their progress and to observe his workers with his own eyes - he is wary and distrustful of information being kept from him.

He likes destruction. Especially when he's personally overseeing failed projects being torn down; the sounds of crashing bricks, metal scraping against the ground, and the rumbling and beeping of heavy machinery is ASMR to his ears.

For his constant pursuit of modern technology, Stormcatcher is a fanboy for airships. He collects certified parts of famous ships, build-it-yourself figurines of model airships, photographs and videos of airship launches, there's even rumours he keeps giant hangars of retired airships that he's personally restored and preserved. Don't tell anyone, especially Windsinger!

I love this pathetic dragon man.

Icewarden:

His cold demeanor is a mask that hides a deep feeling deity underneath. He is blunt because he cares. He will hurt you with the truth because he wants to watch you grow into a stronger version of yourself from moving past it, rather than becoming soft and stagnant in a bittersweet lie. Sometimes he gets carried away with this emotionless state and it hurts his children, which hurts him once he snaps out of it.

He is an incredible hunter. Gaoler Seekers and game hunters alike pray for his keen eye and endless patience to guide them in their own hunts.

He has personally observed horrors beyond mortal comprehension. As a result, he is the only deity who completely understands the Arcanist's withdrawal from the world.

He hates the Flamecaller especially - because he sees himself in her, and what could become of him if he dares open up his emotions to the world. That, and a bitter war between them almost resulting in the extinction of the entire Icefield and Banescale race probably didn't help either of them.

Lightweaver:

She cares for the Arcanist. A lot. She just wants to invite him over to the Beacon to show him the sunrise over the endless horizon, or even visit the Observatory herself to skim through his libraries with him. She wants to be his friend given their shared hobbies. He keeps declining her offers though, to her dismay.

She dedicates herself and her Flight to preserving as much of history as possible so that one day dragonkind's descendants can learn from their ancestors mistakes. Yes, this includes the creation of Imperials and the ensuing Emperors, again to her dismay. She has to fight the urge in her mind "erase them from history... no one must know..."

She is a rather dismayed deity. She fights to keep up a bubbly and outgoing façade though, lest her biggest threat Shadowbinder discover these unpleasant feelings and exploit them.

She taps her claws on surfaces a lot out of habit. She also enjoys manicuring her claws and painting them with glitter.

Shadowbinder

Shadowbinder doesn't hate anyone. In fact, she just can't feel anything or develop bonds with anyone. Everything is just a tool she can manipulate to an end - dragons, fellow deities, worshipping beasts. To what end is something she keeps to herself.

She is a fantastic liar, and revered by fools and monarchs alike as the Queen of Liars. She can spin tales so tall it could make the Arcanist climb the Pillar again, believing that it was whole once more.

While the Lightweaver is her preferred target as her "natural opposite", she will pursue any of the other deities just as relentlessly. Windsinger is probably last on the list cause out of all of them, he could most easily out-sabotage her.

She is the most terrified of the Shade out of the Eleven. Any creature - dragons included - in her sight that shows even a small sign of being Shade-infected is killed instantly.

Plaguebringer:

She cackles like a fairytale witch as she stirs the Wyrmwound and you can't convince me otherwise.

She can be as maternal as Flamecaller, but only to her "children" who have proven to thrive in the Wasteland she's created. Anyone who can continuously survive in the Wasteland she considers her own and treats with a great deal of respect - no matter their element, origin, breed, age, beastkind etc. She personally interacts with these "super mutants", coming up with ways through contagion to make them even more powerful.

Out of the Two Sisters, she's the one who adheres to the natural order of life and death the most. She's appalled at Gladekeeper's vision for the world. Only stagnation awaits a world of never-ending life.

smely

Gladekeeper:

She speaks in a very sophisticated manner, and is generally very polite even to her "sister" Plaguebringer. She won't admit it but she does like hearing the sound of her own voice.

Her ultimate goal is to conquer death itself. An immortal world of never ending life in the form of her green blooms on every patch of ground, reaching towards the heavens and rooting deep into the soil below. Her fellow deities can join her or perish - deep down she sees them all as nothing but destructive warmongers anyway.

Beneath the sophisticated layers of leaves lies a feral deity who isn't afraid of fighting tooth and bloody claw for her beliefs. A battle between her and Flamecaller would be long lasting and terrifying to say the least.

She sprays herself with so much floral perfume - on top of the potent floral blooms covering her hide - that some Nature dragons have a saying "breathe in Gladekeeper's blooms every time [someone] does [thing].

The Arcanist:

He is the least socialised out of the Eleven. Mostly considering he grew up alone and had barely spoken a word to anyone until the Aethers were created. He has a noticeable speech impairment. Witness him with a pen, or on a typewriter or one of Lightning's fancy touchscreen interfaces, though, and he's a speedy techno-magician. Would definitely text/email over answering phone calls anyday.

He often forgets to nourish and clean himself and his quarters. He has trusted scholars who are tasked to remind him; he knows he can't avoid social interactions forever, and that it's in his best interest. A malnourished body would hinder his research after all. Several trusted Fae progenitors are dedicated to maintaining his records whilst keeping out of his way and spin web lairs in the nooks and crannies of his giant shelves. Scribbles - Tomo's scribe - has an ancestor from one of these clans. Awww.

The truth is, when he stood atop the Pillar and connected with the Shade, the two opposing forces experienced totality. He experienced possibilities - on a grander galactic scale than the prophecies seen by Tidelord. He briefly became one with eldritch creatures beyond the fabric of reality. He held ultimate power beyond comprehension, a force beyond creation and uncreation. He wants to understand what this force was, and what it's done to the Shade...and to him.

#flight rising #fr #fantastic i forgot the name of my own lore tag #guardianite lore #there we go

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storiesofmyhead · 4 months ago

Text

She's taken a leap of absence

Her body laid numbly under Adam's foot, the blood seeping up her throat as she coughed it out onto herself.

The static noise grew as Alastor watched Adam's foot dig deeper into his beloved's chest.

"Get your dirty foot off of her." He growls, his dark black shadowy tentacles extending from his back as they ready to rip the first man apart.

"Haha I don't think so. Dirty ungrateful sinners like you and her don't deserve life even in the darkest depts of hell. So, I'm going to do everyone a favor and kill her." Adam laughs, his egotistical voice coming out proud and confident.

Snarling Alastor's body grows, his limbs cracking as Adam stares up in horror.

"What are you." He says disgusted, before shaking his head putting back on his confident and proud exterior. "I'm not scared of some sinner." He laughs.

"Al' just let it be. I-" She coughs harshly, her voice coming out weakly. "I don't want you t-to get hurt. Please." She pleads.

Alastor's eyes land on his wife's dying body causing his anger to spike again, his tentacle limbs grabbing Adam.

"Fuck you." He states, ripping his body off of his wife's before throwing him into the air where Charlie waited for him.

Before anyone knew it, Alastor grabbed her before his shadows allowed them both to sink into ground disappearing from everyone's sight.

Landing in his broadcasting studio, Alastor looked around for a spot on the ground that hadn't been destroyed yet. Finding a spot her carefully sat her against a panel, his eyes searching her body for the injury that he knew was killing her.

"Al' it's ok." She said softly, reaching her hand up to cup his cheek.

"No." He states desperately his eyes unfocused as they fly around hoping to think of something, anything. "I-I have to think of something. You can't die on me again." He whimpers, the radio filter that always covers his old voice now off. Desperation clear in everything he does.

"Oh, my sweet boy. There's nothing we can do now." Smiling weakly at the man before coughing as she bends over to the side, the puddle of blood growing. "Just lay with me. Please." She says lip quivering as she tries to hold her calm exterior for his sake.

"Please don't leave me. Everyone always leaves me." His lips quivers as the tears start to pool down his face. She was the only person he would let himself go for, the only person who see this side of him.

Sliding down the panel next to her, he carefully lifts her into his lap before setting her down. Laying her head on his shoulder she places a kiss on the junction between his neck and collarbone.

"I'm not leaving you; I promise. I'll always be here even if you can't see me, my love."

Alastor listens to her breathing weaken as she nears the end of her life. His heart breaking deeper as her breaths get softer and softer.

"I love you so much, please understand that I'm not leaving by choice." She says, wanting him to know that she would never leave him no matter what. "This isn't your fault my love. Please do not blame yourself once I'm gone." She pleads.

"Ok." He whimpers. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't give you a child like you always wanted."

Chuckling weakly, she reaches up and pulls his head down softly to look at her eye to eye. "I only ever wanted a child because it would give me another reminder of you, my love. You're all I've ever wanted."

Sniffling, Alastor leans down and places his lips on hers. All his love and sadness put into this one kiss. All he wanted was a few more minutes, a few more hours with her, but alas everything has to end at some point. Kissing back, she uses the last of her energy, smiling into it.

Alastor felt her kissing back until she wasn't. Her body laying limp in his arms.

"No. No, no, no, no!" He yells clutching her body closer to his. Now sobbing he nuzzles his head into her hair, wanting to drown in her scent.

"Where's Alastor and Scarlett?" Charlie asks the group worriedly.

"I don't know I haven't seen them since-" Vaggie was cut off by the appearance of Alastor, his large smiles straining on his face. His appearance disheveled, the small tear stains on his cheeks noticeable to everyone but Charlie as they all look down in sadness and guilt. Angel with tears in his eyes, Husk and Vaggie giving sympathetic looks.

"Oh Alastor!" Charlie says happily. "We were so worried. Where is-" She continues only to get cut off by Vaggie's hand on her shoulder as she shook her head silently, glum look on her face.

Charlie looks at Vaggie for a second in confusion before gasping, her hands flying towards her mouth, eyes tearing up.

"It seems Scarlett is taking a leap of absence for a while. With that I will also be taking my leave. Good day." He says his normal radio voice absent, as he trails off before turning around and leaving the hotel. Little did the rest of the group know, that would be the last they saw of him for a while...

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x oc

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dairy-farmer · 7 months ago

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Another stalker/civilian Au~!

Its an Au where Bruce get thrown into some multi-verse adventure with a few other Batmen, not long into his grief spiral? And between Climactic Battles(tm) they try to tell him to be... less harsh, on his Tim? Because they know he is them. He won't listen if they say Be Nice. He's raging and full of grief.

And he's like? Tim? Timothy Drake. The neighbors child who should be in Morocco, THAT Tim?

Yep. He becomes your next Robin. They ALL tell him. Because *various explanations basicly boiling down too "you publicly lose your shit in grief"*. And? Bruce has time to work through his immediate, VIOLENT denial? While on that adventure?

Comes back having reached a stage of "Absolutely Not. No More Robins." Not because it's TIM, but because he refuses to lose another kid? But ALSO? He's now Hyper Aware of this kid?

That's HIS kid.

He has to PROTECT that kid from trying to become Robin. From trying to join the Caped lifestyle. So he, now that he's no longer risking just destroying just HIMSELF, drags himself together. Painfully, slowly, and with help, but he does it. Is he okay? Not remotely. But he slowly gets functioning again.

Twitchs everytime Tim looks too hard in his direction. Seems too concerned.

He carefully manipulates Tim's school to offer better and better distractions. Opportunities for growth and too entice. Photography, engineering, languages, skating, game creation. Anything.

He monitors Tim too and from school. Stops purse snatching and petty crimes far before Tim ever sees them. Makes SURE there will never be any call to action for his boy. No great tragedy.

Then, of course, the universe (as it tends too) spits on his efforts in mockery. Tim's parent are kidnapped, killed, by a madman. He is orphaned, like Bruce was. Left with too much wealth and few to protect him from those who would take it. It's like looking into a mirror of the past.

He steps up.

His lawyers vicious, the will, a forgery they'll never be able to prove is fake. They KNOW it is. Because they destroyed the original. However, his fake is better then theirs. His lawyers far more bloodthirsty. He sees most of the Drake Industries board in jail by the end of the month.

But... Timothy Drake is not his son. He's his foster child.

One who avoids him.

Who chokes on the secrets he KNOWS, but doesn't know, Bruce knows he knows. Who mourns his parents. Who's trying to hold on to the shreds of his life. Bruce watches him through the Manor cameras and obsesses. So small. So sad. They have both lost so much.

It is almost... perverse, the weight that lifts from Bruce's shoulders, when he drags his weary body back to the cave each night. After brutal patrols and the untold horrors man visits upon man. And he can just? Flip on the cameras. Find Tim. Curled warm and soft, safe and alive, in his bed. Playing some game, later then he should, as young men do. Sneaking a snack.

The living representation of what he's fighting for.

But Dick comes back, raging through and misunderstanding. Thinks Tim is Robin. Lashes out. The shouting echoes. By the time everything is cleared up, Tim has already quietly found himself a boarding school abroad. Dick is devastated. Feels like a monster. Bruce wants to refuse. But whispers of another break out on TOP of League of Assassins agents being spotted lurking around?

He hates it, but agrees.

It's a miserable slog of time after that. Report cards and updates the only highlights. A crime lord that turns out to be his dead son appears. A BIOLOGICAL Son that hounds him to be Robin appears. Eventually Tim returns. Technically, aged out of the foster system.

As though Bruce would ever let go so easily.

He welcomes him home at the airport. His boy, grown into his slender frame and delicate features. Wants to drive him to the Manor but drives him to the upper class apartment Tim has bought himself instead.

Adjusts his patrol routes mentally.

Learns, through his planted cameras, that Tim's schoolmates have been a TERRIBLE influence. Casual nudity, sprawling hedonistic nights of take-out and wine, and most concerning? Mentions of "hook ups" he will be missing, over the phone. Bruce is appalled. How did he MISS this?

Sure, Tim cleans up well. Presents himself as reserved if flirtatious in the boardroom. Is now working to seize control of his birthright. But... but...!

Bruce is conflicted. But can not tear his eyes away, as he reviews the surveillance from the Welcome Home gala he threw for Tim. Was it coincidence? Or intentional. That every "hot young thing", as it were, that Tim pulled into a side room to fuck him throughout the night. Was the civilian identity of a Cape?

Bruce, as he tends to, gets obsessed. Watches as Tim is fucked by hooks and lovers alike. As he pleasures himself in his home, works in his office, commutes to and from work.

Maybe it gets weird. Because of course it does. Maybe Damian volunteers, after noticing his Father's obsession, in hopes of gaining som of that attention for himself. Seduces Drake. Finds they have a lot in common. Fucks him knowing his Father is watching. Realizes he is IN to that. That he enjoys the murmured commands of his Father in his ear, telling him how best to earn his approval.

Maybe it's just Bruce. Who finally shows up as Batman. And they pretend. That Tim doesn't know. That Bruce doesn't know he knows. And Bruce rocks his world.

However it ends? Tim is a kept man. Batmans secret civilian lover. And he gets WEIRD about it~☆

-🐼🐼🐼

it would be just like bruce to get weird over it especially since, whether he realized it or not, he's formed a pretty severe complex over tim 😩😩😩

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim

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danmeiconfession · 10 months ago

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No. I think Shen Yuan never really see these people as people even at the ends of the book. My dude really condemned Shen Jiu a modern man really gave no shit or felt any sorrow towards his enslavement and abuse. I read a fully grown man with modern sensibilities and values watch a child being horrifically abused. A child that was ENSLAVED, restrained, beaten, TORTURED by another man, an OWNER. And I read SY's thoughts on the matter. Read him condemning the child and feeling no horror or disgust at the act of child abuse. He felt nothing regarding the immorality and cruelty of slavery. Hell, When ZZL murdered GYX who was only ever just, kind, and helpful in all his interactions and to SY himself, I was upset SY seemed to feel nothing and felt no censure towards ZZL or sadness or guilt towards GYX who was trying to save him. But I excused it as him having other things to do because maybe for SY, it's easier for him to just push aside feelings over someone's death to focus on other things (though I was unnerved that he never seemed to think of it again or care).

SY intentionally condoned the murder of dozens of individuals to save his own skin, and never wrestled with his conscience over it. While SJ's self-hatred is detrimental to himself and those around him, at least he struggles emotionally and morally with his decisions. He still does them, but at least he doesn't excuse them or not even feel guilt or shame. SY however is completely shameless in doing whatever it takes to live. I honestly find characters like this interesting, but I found SY's character to be lacking because the author wanted him to be a self-centered survivalist while also a sweet, holy mother/mentor figure to LBH. That's a BL trope I usually find tedious and boring, especially because authors never have said overly kind, overly forgiving characters be kind to anyone accept a handful of characters who are plot relevant (sometimes even only the ML or villain) while they treat every other character as air or cardboard.

I was so convinced of SY's point of view on the original characters and novel, that I kept making excuses as SVSS unfolded. When he recounted the scheming and murdering of Sha Hauling in PIDW while fanboying over how excited he was to see her, I excused it as him not realizing the gravity of her crimes when they're committed against living people. And once he decided she wasn't that great and LBH deserved better, I was assured, even though he seemed to only do so because she was rude to himself. When he celebrated O!LBH's torture and mutilation of SJ for bullying him in his teen years and even called for SJ's castration, I excused it because who doesn't want to see an evil pedophile get what they deserve, and fans can get overly enthusiastic sometimes, even if calling for slow, multi-year mutilation and torture is a bit extreme even if LBH is your favorite characte

It seems a lot SJ haters like to excuse LBH's behavior the way they claim SJ fans excuse SJ's. LBH was the poor kid and bullied by kids in the neighborhood, then singled out and bullied at his school, before being treated to the abyss where he utilized the training he received at CQ and his innate demon heritage to establish himself. In PIDW, he proceeds to commit large scale mass murder, borderline genocide, destroy the human realms sects and defenses against spiritual and demonic threats, all why gruesomely maiming, torturing, dismembering, disemboweling, and feeding alive anyone he disliked. Uhhhh... disproportionate, much. Bitch slap and shame people if you want, but O!LBH is a monstrous, self-centered, sadistic freak show. He goes far beyond a victim of abuse reacting with anger and defensiveness. He controls the lives and wellbeing of all the people in the realms, and repeatedly makes time to find enjoyment in the torture, pain, and suffering of others on a scale he had never experienced himself. Meanwhile, SVSS!LBH still decided to start widespread violent capture of cultivators to date Xin Mo while SY was out of the picture only sparing CQ because he knew once SY was brought back, SY would be upset with him if he did. He shows no care for anyone else, human or demon, in the world of SVSS besides SY. His only regards for others are as useful allies and subordinates, enemies, and people he knows SY would lightly scold and admonish him for killing. LBH is fucked up in every universe, whether he gets bullied at school, or his teacher turns him into a live in homemaker.

At best, I could excuse this as SY not seeing other people as actual people. Maybe because he read about them as fictional characters first, he can't fully perceive them as humans, just characters, not as real people like him and SQH. Maybe he made an exception for LBH because LBH is his favorite character. But that care and regard clearly don't extend to anyone else.

I have no idea where people get the idea he sees them as real he doesn't. I couldn't care about a protagonist who didn't react with shock or horror or even just resigned sadness to child slavery. I couldn't give a shit about his romance anymore. I stopped reading. To be clear, I don't hate SY, or even his type of character. I'm just disappointed because I went into SVSS thinking I'd be getting a cute, sweet, slightly stupid, modern nerd flailing though a comedic romance full of ridiculous misunderstandings and pitfalls. It turned out, I got a self-centered, apathetic fanboy simultaneously stalking while trying to avoid and stay on the good side of his mentally unstable, over powered idol. Which I've actually read before too, but at least the author wasn't forcing every other character to remark on how sweet, kind, and good the fanboy who cared about nothing but his favorite character was.

Clearly, his anti-abuse philosophy only extended to LBH and no other child. He felt nothing regarding the immorality and cruelty of slavery." The hypocrisy displayed by SY is astonishing. It's fascinating how SY condemns child abuse, expressing concern for Binghe's mistreatment, yet dismisses Binghe's daily killings over five years to control Xin Mo as a consequence of past abuse. There's an apparent double standard. Moreover, in the same breath, witnessing SJ's appalling abuse, SY downplays its impact, suggesting that SJ's mistreatment doesn't excuse his transformation into a reprehensible individual. SY seems to overlook the scumbag-like behavior, focusing instead on SJ's skills, status, beauty, hard work, and wealth.

Why do people like this character lol?

#svsss #scumbag self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #scumbag system #zhuzhi lang #shang qinghua

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redlimvs · 5 months ago

Text

Zero Day // May These Noises Startle You In Your Sleep Tonight

Counting sheeps, watching the twinkling stars shimmer in the blue night sky, it was all pointless, in the end, Calvin could never put himself to sleep. It had been like this for as long as he can remember, the first sighting of his night terrors was when he was a little boy, shouting and screaming for his parents to help him because he witnessed a monster.

It was always the same creature, an 11 feet tall, gray as a foggy morning, and disturbing monster that watched him the second he were to close his eyes. It did as much as any monster, it vanished without a trace and only jumped at him when he least expected it, it ran at him like some blood hungry beast, and its screams were loud and sharp enough to shatter multiple windows in an instant.

No matter what Calvin did, no matter how old he got, he could never shake away the monster from coming into his dreams every night, startling him and causing him to go hysterical once he woke up.

This monster, all of it was what gave Calvin these disturbing and disgusting thoughts, he slit his wrists and shoulders with a blade all for the monster, he forced himself to throw up even the slightest of food when he woke up because of that monster.

It was a horror show, it was something Calvin’s parents never saw or noticed until he got more extreme, at times, they would even check up on him every 15 minutes to make sure he didn’t wake up, even as he got older.

No matter how much he screamed for help or clawed at his skin for any form of assistance, nothing would ever get rid of this massive creature that seeped into his mind little by little. All the beast saw in Calvin was a heap of flesh and guts, blood so red it made all other shades feel inferior. He was just a child in a graveyard, walking around the world like some sickly thing, but he was real, at least he hoped he was.

Calvin was his own devastation, wanting nothing more than to peel at his own skin and reveal all that he was, he wanted to rid himself like rotten meat and pray he was never himself again. It was putrid, it was such nauseating thoughts, but it was the only thing that seemed to calm him down in a way.

He’d care less about being abandoned or knifed at the teeth so he would never speak again, he’d do anything to get rid of himself and whatever was tormenting him in his very head.

Even after meeting his new friend, Kriegman, his current friend, Rachel, only saw him as someone dangling on a leash while its owner dragged him away to wherever he pleased. He was humiliated, he felt that his own flesh was caused solely from humiliation.

Kriegman, Andre, was far different than any person in Calvin’s life. Neither of them were popular, but they had close enough friends to not be considered alone, and yet, no matter who he spent time with, Calvin still felt lonely. Andre seemed to be the only one who saved him from such loneliness.

The more he thought of Andre, the more his imaginations dissipated and were replaced by nothing except Andre himself, the one who supposedly saved him from such life sucking thoughts.

For that, Calvin was practically Andre’s right hand man, allowing him to take the lead sometimes and supporting every little decision he made. He was nothing but a mere fruit, a pomegranate if he will, he looked so beautiful on the outside and rather lovely, but would anyone truly open his heart and wonder if he really was worth the trouble?

Would Andre be the one to try him and see that no matter how hard he was to open up, he would still be willing to try it after all?

Even after creating Zero Day and discussing all the steps, Andre never left him, he never thought twice for talking to him the day they first met, he didn’t abandon Calvin even after his multiple discussions of destroying himself and his attempts.

Andre was just as sick and twisted as Calvin, and it only made him grow more mad with wanting more of him. So he did just that, it was a spur of the moment, something he wasn’t planning in that second they were in his bedroom, but he kissed him.

It was quick and awkward, it was as if Calvin had been possessed, but it left a large impact on Andre, leaving him stunned and frazzled.

“...Fuck...I...I uhm...just forget...I ever did that...” Calvin had muttered almost immediately, realizing only then that it was a mistake he should have never done. It would end like that, no words exchanged, so snarky remarks, it would end with Andre letting himself out and never turning back to see Calvin’s face.

“Fuck, Andre...I’m...”

It happened so fast, certainly bringing Calvin to a shock when he felt Andre’s lips meeting his own. It was surprising, it was unexpected, it was all Calvin was craving for the moment they became friends.

As quickly as he reciprocated, Calvin dove right down to press Andre against the ground, kissing him furiously as if he was hungry for this. He was, his mind growling in starvation and his lips begging to feel Andre, wanting nothing more than to forget all the terrible things that happened in his life.

His head grew harsher the moment he heard pants, even moaning in Andre’s mouth as their lips moved together. If this was some dream he was having, he would never want to wake up, but this was true, it was real and Calvin was more than overjoyed to feel such wondrous feelings with Andre.

But after that, after multiple days the two spent together, Calvin had not heard a single mention of that night, or anything regarding what they did together. As days turned to weeks, to the few days left before their big plan, Andre had not said a single thing about their kiss, almost as if he was trying to make it seem like it never happened.

But he wanted him to know, Calvin wanted to make Andre remember and he wanted to make sure he kept that in his head at all times, even as he stood up in front of the microphone to speak in front of a small crowd, his eyes only stayed focus on Andre, who was looking at him strangely the very second he stepped up.

Two Boys

We watch as the fire lights up furiously at the camp, wondering what has become of us

What we are? Nothing but rubbish as we feel our bodies engulfed in the flames

How much longer must we pretend, how tiresome the days get with no more excitement

Wallowing in the bits and moments that burn, what more can I do?

These sinful thoughts, those putrid shouts,

Would I let it bother my time with you?

Eaten or rotten, I’d rather grow rotten in the arms that saved me

I will be the witness in your gruesome story, I will force an angel to give me more love

I will be the bullet you shoot because I am nothing without a gun, without you

We both know we weren’t searching, but I’m glad to be found and I’m glad I found you

...

“Calvin, what the fuck. What were you thinking?! Going up on that stage...saying...whatever the fuck you just said, what the fuck?!”

What was he thinking? It was exhilarating, it was breathtaking, this was the rush he was looking for, that was the feeling he knew he was missing. In that moment, nothing mattered, the audience didn’t matter, what he said didn’t matter, not even the beast that held him back since forever, the second he turned to Andre, he knew that this was the thing he was missing.

“Andre, wasn’t that awesome?! Holy shit...holy shit!” Calvin said with such excitement in his voice, he was seconds away from jumping in glee after he finished his poem. It didn’t even matter if Andre yelled at him or what he thought of the poem, he was so glad he did it.

Maybe then Andre would realize how much he meant to Calvin.

“...Andre? What’s wrong, you’re quiet.”

A few days had already passed since Calvin’s poem incident, and more than enough time since the kiss the two shared. Now, Calvin watched as Andre drove to the school, his face stoic and his mouth silent.

Calvin knew something was wrong, he always did, the two always seemed to know when something was bothering the other, no matter how much they tried to hide it from each other. They were dogs, of course, loyal to each other and capable of seeing when one wasn’t feeling well.

“...Hm? Oh...uhm...it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

He nodded, but he didn’t let it go immediately, he’d rather wait it out until they reached the school. And wait he did, because as soon as they got inside and heard the students scream and run after spotting the guns in their hands, the thought that ran around in his head did not go away just yet.

The two were so similar to each other, yet different in the way that during their firing, Andre was simply finding students and shooting at them, whereas for Calvin, he thought it would be a little fun to play around with the prey beforehand.

Everyone he saw, every person he recognized, he laughed and mocked them, he shouted for them to stop just before killing them, standing over them and thinking back to the moments he was ruined by them. It was frightening, to see a sight such as this, it only worsened his imaginations more, feeling and sensing that same monster that tormented his entire life.

He turned to Andre, his chest rising and falling with such force, but he continued to say nothing the entire time they were in the school. It was frustrating, Calvin was infuriated to see how much Andre had changed.

“Andre, jesus. What’s going on, why are you acting so weird? This was your plan, wasn’t it?”

“...”

Calvin grew angry. “Andre! Stop being fucking quiet and just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Why are you pretending that our dynamic never changed? Why are you here, screaming at these dickheads as if what we did that day was so normal!”

He was dumbfounded, confused even, if Andre were referring to that day, why was he coming after him?

“We shouldn’t have...kissed. That should have never happened and you know it.”

"What is up with you? You didn't seem to mind it that much when you kissed me back."

He noticed a slight twitch in Andre’s eye, and it only seemed to fuel Calvin up with more frustration.

"I...Calvin. I'm not fucking gay! I don't know why that happened, okay? I shouldn't have kissed you."

“It looked like you did want to kiss me Andre. Why don't you just admit it, you like me and you did like that kiss."

Calvin stepped closer to Andre, meeting him at eye level and talking to him in a tone that he knew his friend wouldn’t like. Andre laughed sarcastically as he let go of his gun, allowing it to drop to the ground, while Calvin still kept his own.

"Jesus fucking christ, Cal! How many times do I have to tell you? I'm. Not. Gay! I don't want anybody knowing we did that, I don't want them seeing we're gay or whatever and find another thing to pick on."

"...So you're scared?"

"YES I'M FUCKING SCARED! I don't want any of those fuck heads finding out about this or they're gonna ruin me! I don't want that for myself!"

Calvin remained quiet, astounded to hear Andre’s response and even more surprised to see what his viewpoint was in all of this. Was it really how he thought it was, was Calvin just playing a fool in this ridiculous play?

"...But what about what I want?! You made it perfectly clear that you don't like me and you don't want anybody knowing about that kiss. How about how I would feel about this!? I stopped caring what others thought about me, so why can't you?! They're all gonna be dead anyways! I don't care if I have to tell them right then and there that I am a faggot!!"

“That poem I shared that day was why I was so certain about this, about us!!”

"We're trying to kill people, not get killed. You can go on ahead and tell the world you're a fag, do whatever the fuck you want, make another fucking poem and say all you want to say, but I'm not risking myself getting caught for kissing you."

In a dream, Calvin saw the two, happily laughing at whatever they said to each other. In some other life, the two did get to experience true teenage love, in a world where they weren’t frowned upon. In his dreams, he and Andre got everything they could ever want.

"This plan was meant for you and I, Andre!! We could've run away somewhere and do whatever the fuck we wanted!? You didn't have to worry about being seen as gay anywhere except here, this was our plan to leaving this shit hole and doing something good with our lives!!"

"STOP LIVING IN A FUCKING FAIRYTALE CALVIN, NONE OF THAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN BECAUSE THIS IS REAL LIFE, DON'T YOU GET IT!? WE DON'T HAPPILY EVER AFTER'S, WE DON'T GET TO JUST, RUN FAR AWAY AND LIVE OUR LIVES NORMALLY."

“YOU AND I ARE NOTHING. EVERYONE WHO THOUGHT WE WERE SOMETHING MORE WERE WRONG, THERE’S NO POINT TO ANY OF THIS ANYMORE, SO WHY DON’T YOU GET THAT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD!!-”

...

All Calvin wanted was to be set free from the shackles that held him tightly in his place, he wanted nothing more than to end the putrefying horrors that shake him awake the more he thought about it.

He didn’t mean for things to go far, he didn’t realize how much it would impact him once he was truly living it. Everything they’ve done, everything they accomplished in their lives, it was falling apart because of Calvin’s stupid mistake.

He stood there, traumatized, ruined, everything he just witnessed had actually happened, why couldn’t wake up, why wasn’t he able to shake himself awake in that very moment because this was all just a ridiculous dream.

Calvin never meant to shoot Andre, he never meant to end it there and he never meant for him to die right when he was going to tell him everything he felt. He just got so angry, like something took over his body and took his best friend’s life.

He meant to shoot himself, not him.

He was too angry, too boiled up to even realize what he was doing before it was too late, he watched as Andre stopped speaking, he watched as he turned his eyes to Calvin before falling completely to the ground, the bullet still fresh on his head.

“...Andre...fuck...fuck fuck FUCK!!” Calvin said in a panic, rushing down immediately to see if there was anything, any sign that he was breathing. It was a bullet to the head, but that didn’t mean he was completely dead.

And yet, when he lifted his best friend’s head slowly to see his face, it was over.

The monster who watched him as a kid to even now at seventeen, the one who filled him with disturbing thoughts and phrases, the rage he was feeling in that stupid argument, it was all because of him.

He pushed himself back in fear, his breaths shallow and shaky, tears flowed down his eyes furiously, the voice that told him to do all of those things in his early years, he ruined everything.

And what felt like a final “fuck you” from that same beast, Calvin saw the gun he had used to shoot Andre, fumbling with it as he tried to reach it before finally holding it in his arms. He looked at Andre’s lifeless body one more time and listened to what appeared to be the police barging into the school. He cried out one last time before piercing his head with the bullet, completely unable to erase the horrifying outcome in the few seconds he had left.

His monster had won, after trying for so long to get into Calvin’s mind, he had finally won.

#andre kriegman #caldre #calvin gabriel #zero day 2003 #zero day #army of two #cal gabriel #finally posting something i didnt already write #depression punched me really hard this summer lmao

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